Alyson Wonderland: July 2015

Everyone who knows me well, knows that I am absolutely terrified of pregnancy. As in, if you look up pregnancy phobia in the dictionary, there's a chance you might see a large, wide-eyed, photo of me staring back at you. My unconscious mind seems to have some strange vendetta against babies and it has made sure to provide me with plenty of quite gruesome and horror movie worthy dreams surrounding pregnancy and giving birth. I knew I wanted to be a mother eventually and, as several years went by in our marriage, my excuses for delaying kids were quickly running out and I was starting to panic. Shortly after Ryan graduated in 2014 however, I woke up one morning and it was quite literally like a switch had been flipped. I went from considering pregnancy and having kids as one of my top fears the night before to being 100%(okay, maybe like 95%) ready for it by the next morning. That was my "sign from God" as I considered it, so we began trying.

Several months and negative pregnancy tests later, I was starting to get a little worried that I had delayed kids for several years only to find out that having kids might not be as easy as we had first thought. Luckily, my fears were not confirmed and towards the end of the summer I found myself holding my first positive pregnancy test. There was no mistaking it: a strong, clear positive within seconds. For months, I had envisioned some elaborate plan for surprising Ryan with the news but when the day finally came, I found myself instead sprinting downstairs in excitement and practically throwing the positive test at him. I was on cloud nine and he was excited as only an engineer would be: on the inside.

We decided to wait several weeks to tell my family, since they were making a trip up from FL soon, and we would be able to surprise them in person. My parents and aunt and uncle arrived a few weeks later and we skyped with my sister and niece as my parents opened the gift that told them they were going to have another grandchild. Everyone was ecstatic and we enjoyed a nice weekend together discussing future baby plans. A couple of days went by and my family left for Williamsburg to continue their vacation on Saturday evening. Sunday afternoon, I miscarried. I sat on the phone with the doctor-on-call that evening feeling empty and numb as he explained nonchalantly that there was nothing I could do about it and to just stay home until the next business day when I could come in for them to test and make sure I had actually miscarried. I was bitter toward my body for not being able to do the task it was born to do naturally. I was young, lived a healthy and active lifestyle, and there were no other health factors that would contribute to an increased risk of miscarriage.

I arrived at the lab Monday morning, already knowing that I had lost the baby but needing to see confirmation of it displayed in test results. I got to the waiting room to find myself surrounded by pregnant women waiting to take their glucose test. I sat down awkwardly, shrinking into the corner and trying to drown out the steady drone of all of them excitedly discussing their babies with each other. Finally, one of them looked over at me with a big smile and said "Congrats! Are you pregnant too?" For half a second I considered punching her in the face despite her good intentions, but I instead mumbled with embarrassment and probably a little too much hostility, "Well, not anymore." To say I made an awkward situation worse was an understatement, but slowly, many of the women started to tell me their own stories of miscarriage and I realized that, however empty I felt in that moment, I was far from alone.

I was lucky enough to find myself staring at another positive pregnancy test a few months later, but this time, instead of excitement, I found myself feeling only caution and dread. Instead of letting myself be optimistic, I woke up every day convinced that I was going to lose this baby too. Long past the twelve-week mark, when most couples excitedly announce their pregnancy to the world, my husband and I were the only ones who knew about the pregnancy. As the weeks went by, I slowly gained more hope for the pregnancy to progress and we finally told our families, then announced it publicly a few weeks later when we found out the gender.

Fast forward several more months and as I sit here writing this post, anxiously awaiting the arrival of our little man any day now, I feel only gratitude for this healthy baby now and for the first little life I got to hold inside of me if only for a short while. As grateful as I am, I have to stifle a laugh and keep myself from rolling my eyes when some women tell me that they sincerely enjoyed being pregnant. While growing another human being inside your body may be an amazing experience, it is certainly not a glamorous one. And while some people tell me I'm going to miss feeling this baby wiggling around inside, I'm quite certain I won't miss the crippling feeling of heartburn every hour of the day, the overwhelming fatigue during the day and insomnia during the night, the well aimed kicks at the ribs and feeling that he is trying to break out from the inside, and the plethora of aches and pains that my body can't ever seem to find a moment of relief from. Oh and I almost forgot. Best of all is a particularly bad case(or according to my Dr., the worst case he's ever seen) of the dreaded PUPPP, which I would never wish on anyone(if you don't know what it is I advise you not to look it up, it might disgust you). Occurs 1 in every 200 pregnancies and I happened to draw the short stick.To all the moms out there, I salute you and have a new found respect for you. And to think, I haven't even reached the hardest part yet.

Now, if you made it this far, you earned a virtual high five from me. I promise my future posts will be a little more light-hearted and probably much more heavily laden with sarcasm(I can't help myself). On to the nursery tour. =)