October 2nd, 2003

Pregnancy

So I decided to do a pregnancy pee test again this morning. It's possible that I actually concieved as late as Thursday of last week, so I figured it might just be too early for the test I took on Saturday. So I tried another one this morning. It still turns up nothing, but in reading the fine print it says that it is 99% accurate in women with normal hormone levels. I know my hormones have always been out of whack, so the answer may lie there or it may still be too early for the damn things.

It is not, however, too early for my own internal sensors.

Symptoms have not gone away. I've been noticing smells at about 30 times their usual volume, as far as I can guestimate. Broccoli and mushrooms both made me really queezy. My bras don't fit at this point. I had to eat crackers in order to get out of bed this morning without throwing up. I lost the fight and threw up in the shower trying to brush my hair when I got a little over warm.

I'm pregnant. I don't care at this point what the damn pee test says. If I start bleeding tomorrow it will be because I had a very early miscairrage. I no longer have any internal questions on the subject. I will do as the doctor's office asked and wait until next Thursday to come in for a blood test, but the evidence is too overwhelming at this point for me to even maintain doubt. This is not something that is subtle in my body. It is too entirely far from normal and in too entirely weird ways to be anything else.

*meep* The whole thing scares me.

(no subject)

So, I called the doctor's office. I talked with one of the ladies at the front desk. I have an appointment scheduled Tuesday to confirm what I already know. I talked over my symptoms with her on the phone and the receptionist lady said "You're pregnant. Congratulations." When I didn't immediately respond she carefully said "or not?" I explained that it was both a cool and a scarry thing and thanked her.

Symptoms as the stand:

extremely sensitive nipples
Aereolas starting to show some pigment. (They were previously only obvious if you got my nipples erect. It's not a lot yet, but they are faintly purple and changing)
Sore breasts (Dear god, yes. I feel like my breast glands are being stabbed repeatedly and at random)
Breasts that don't fit my bras anymore
leg cramps
delay of menstration (no sign since last Thusday when it was supposed to start)
nausea in the morning (Oh yeah)
nausea at food and smell triggers (Let us just say that the perfume counters at dillards take on a whole new realm of distressing than their once dramatically unpleasant but navigable state. That and onions, broccoli and mushrooms have all triggered strong waves of nausea)
magnification of smells
vommitting
feeling sleepy and exhausted
frequent headaches (the first time in my life I've experienced headaches that didn't lead to migrains)
appetite fluctuations
bloating
hormone related mood swings


Would you be able to maintain neutral disbelief in the face of all that? The receptionist and I can't.

(no subject)

Ferret asked me an interesting question about whether congratulations were in order, which I've gotten a few times now. Long winded as I am, I feel compelled to explain.

See, I grew up in hell. I spent a lot of my young life wishing I could manage to kill my mother or at least myself. Baggage like that never goes away. The pain dulls with time, the edge wears down and blunts, but it's always there in your reality, in the decissions you make and the life that you lead.

Being a parent is something that I desperately wanted as a young child. I was sure that I wanted 10 kids and twins and triplets among them, the more the merrier. And then my life darkened a lot. I began a list of rules of things that I would never do to a child of my own in my boughts of hatred for my mother. Eventually I became convinced that I was the monster not to be trusted, just as my mother was.

It took a lot of work and courage to get to the point that I asked the woman I saw every day, and who was always delightfully friendly to me if I could work for her in a children's program. I was scared shitless.

In the end I was damn good, but I tended to kill myself doing it. There are a handful of children's lives that I changed forever by being the only thing consistent and loving and unwilling to give up on them in their lives. It meant the world to me. It was the most important thing I'd ever done in my life to that point or since. Eventually because of the politics of government beuracracies and a broken ankle, I got mostly out of one on one child care for a while, which, while a tough decission to make, I think I needed. I had been burning both ends of the candle too much and I knew that getting right back into it would mean that those kids wouldn't get my all.

And so children has not for many years been an easy topic for me. I've struggle with fears about what sort of mother I would be, would I get overwhelmed too, etc. I've struggled with never feeling grown up enough or whole enough to handle it. I've struggled with my own ADD and needing to get that under control enough that I could be a functional enough person to even consider it. J spent a long time positive that he didn't want children because he was afraid of raising a duplicate of himself, not really having aknowledged that he was neglected pretty badly as a child and he could make different choices. His fears on the subject don't really set me much at ease. I am afraid I'm dragging him into something he understood that he shouldn't do.

I once in my teen years swore that I would never have children until I felt that I could support them well on my own. This was both a product of an inability to trust anyone at the time, and an indication of how strongly I felt that children did not deserve the shit many people place them in.

Chidren, to me, is a painful and delightful topic. It is one that holds much power, much fear and much hope for joy. Add all of those things to the emotional roller coaster I'm on right now, and you get someone who doesn't know what to think. I'm happy and terrified. I'm afraid to believe that it might be the healing thing I feel it has the potential to be. I'm afraid of fucking it up badly enough that I feel like the world I brought them into was loaded from the start to destroy them.

Our government scares the holy living crap out of me at the moment. Much about our world seems to be unravelling. I have read a lot of horror stories of people with alternate lifestyles and the messes courts, teachers, social services, etc cause for them because they don't want to understand.

So I'm pretty much a mess at the moment. But I am also happy. I know that part of the strength of my reaction is because it is new ground and new ground often unearths new pain when you lived through abuse. I know that somehow I will make do, but I am also an earth spirit. I don't like sudden changes. I want to move at glacial speed and real life doesn't work that way. I even know I need the changes for ultimate good in my life, but that doesn't mean I don't struggle with them while they're happening.

I'm also just not all that femme in real life. I had to learn never to be vulnerable to protect myself for many years. I had to learn to roll with the punches the way many boys do. I have struggled with a certain amount of my own gender dyspohria, always having felt more boy-like than girl-like, in part because I feel like I missed the bus to brainwashing class or something. So I honestly do not get most female behavior and have never really known how to elicit it, interact with it, trust it, etc.

So congratulations are accepted and appreciated, as are hugs and understanding that the next few weeks will be a rocky road at best. I really do think the good things will win, but I'm sort of still in shock. I guess I just really didn't believe that I was probably usefully fertile without help and so some of the blank "buh?" stare hasn't worn off.

When I told a lady here in the suite, she nearly lept across the desk in joy. I just didn't even know how to respond. It was sweet and novel, but I am so not used to certain "normal" female interaction that I was just stunned. Somehow a fertilized egg in my reproductive organs has given me a membership to a club I've only ever watched from the outside, never having felt welcome before. So I'm still figuring it all out.

I do appreciate the good will though. I'm just akward about it still. :)