Blog It Out, Bitch

by Perez, Nina

  I'm sharing this with you because it's the truth and I wish someone had told me ahead of time how bad it could get. Maybe I wouldn't have felt like such a loser and been so depressed for the past two weeks. You see, I didn't feel pregnant, I felt sick. I wasn't happy and glowing. I was miserable and throwing up constantly. I didn't feel connected to my baby. I actually resented my baby. I even resented Donny sometimes for being able to get all the good stuff out of this experience without having to suffer through any of the bad stuff. I felt immense guilt - guilty for not feeling connected to the baby and guilty for spoiling Donny's experience by being so sick and needy. I felt like he wasn't allowed to express his joy, happiness, or excitement about being a Dad again because it was so the opposite of how I was feeling.

  I felt guilty for not spending enough time with Kali so soon after Christmas. She had all these games she wanted to play and I was barely able to participate so the lion's share of it went to Donny who was also doing all of the bill paying, housework, and cooking on top of going to work every day. Go look out a window right now and look towards Georgia. You see that bright light in the distance? That's Donny's halo.

  I don't know that if someone had told me feeling like this were possible it would have made the experience any easier, and that I wouldn't have had the feelings I had (and sometimes still have) but maybe I wouldn't have felt as bad about my feelings. I can't tell you how many times I cried because I couldn't understand why I was feeling the way I was. I want this baby. I love this baby. And if it happens to you, you will too. But there may be moments when you feel like you can't take it anymore. When you feel like being pregnant is the last thing you want. And you know what? That's okay. I would cry for hours because I felt like I was asking God for a miscarriage. Of course I wasn't, but I felt like I was being less than a good woman, a strong woman, a good mother, because I had the nerve to express how miserable I felt, how tired I was, how fucked up bad morning sickness can be.

  There is nothing wrong with acknowledging that your pregnancy sucks. That it's difficult. That it's taxing. It doesn't mean you don't want or love your baby. It just means that you don't want to be throwing up everything you consume. It means that you don't love getting headaches and vomiting because the smell of your husband's shampoo now makes you ill. It means that you don't relish the idea of your boobs doubling in size and feeling like they've been gnawed on by trolls. It means you're human. Imagine that.

  When I was first thinking about sharing this last week I was going to be all about telling you guys how I'm not ever, ever, ever, doing this again. I even told Donny several times that this has to be a boy because I'm not doing it again. I felt bad seeing the disappointment on his face. I've spoken to women over the past two weeks that agree that you really do forget the worst of it or else no one would have more than one child. Here I am just three days of feeling better and I'm already thinking, "Well, if it's a girl, maybe I'd be willing to try once more..."

  What?! I don't even know what that's about and I don't have the energy to try and figure it out. You're more than welcome to try. I still have my moments. There are times when I actually forget that I'm pregnant. Sometimes I feel like I'm just laid up with the flu or something. It helps to talk about the baby. Donny will sometimes do that while I fall asleep. We already refer to the baby by the boy name we have picked out. (Positive vibes and all that.) Maybe things will change when I'm finally over this first trimester hump and I can feel the baby moving around. (And that's for another blog because I'm telling you that there are times when I actually feel stuff going on inside of me. I don't care what anyone says.) Maybe I'll feel more connected and better about everything when I know what the sex is for sure. I hope so.

  Anyway, I share all of this personal, somewhat embarrassing, stuff because maybe it will help someone else not feel so alone, so guilty, so like a loser. 'Cause if I can get through it, and I will, maybe someone else will know they can too.

  The Way You Make Me Feel

  January 10, 2008

  Is that Michael Jackson song now stuck in your head too? Good.

  You will soon discover that my emotions are all over the place. When you see pregnant women on television, crying over any and everything - including toilet paper commercials - that's not really that much of an exaggeration. I'm sick and miserable one day and jubilant and excited the next.

  When I was about 19 or 20, I was living in Durham, North Carolina and working as an executive assistant to two high-level managers within IBM. I had a friend, Felicia, who was about my age, maybe a bit older, who had a little girl. One day we got onto the topic of her having more children. She said that she couldn't imagine having another child because she didn't think she could love another child as much as she loved her daughter. The love she felt for her daughter was so immense, she was sure it couldn't be duplicated. I told her I was sure that wasn't true. I had siblings and I guess I didn't want to think that could be possible. Did my mother love one of us more than the others? No, I was sure she was wrong.

  Then I had Kali about five years later and I knew exactly what she meant. You know that silly game where someone asks you, "If your mother and your father were both hanging from a cliff and you only had the strength to pull up one and the other would fall to certain death, who would you save?" Now, assuming that the people I'm about to name are in your life and that you have equally healthy and loving relationships with them, who would you save? Your mother or father? Your sister or brother? Grandma or Grandpa? It's impossible to answer. I think it's because it's all the same kind of love. Now, toss your child into the mix. Your mother or your son? Your daughter or your brother? It's true when they say that the love you feel for your child is unlike any you'll ever feel for anyone else.

  Then the moment I hugged Donny after telling him the news, I was filled with more love. More love for him and for Kali. New love for this little tiny thing inside of me the size of a fingernail. And it's weird because he or she has no idea. Donny and I talked about it last night. I told him, "He has no idea how much I adore him already." Seriously. After about a week on Earth this baby is going to try and crawl back inside of me just to get a break from all the attention bestowed upon him from all three of us.

  Another thing I've been feeling that I didn't share with anyone until Donny last night, and now here with you, is this urgency to get it all over with. I just want it to be August already. I'm so glad I'm taking six classes this semester because I'm hoping it will make the time go by faster. By the time the semester ends, it will be the end of May and that's a lot closer to August than now. But the main reason, besides the joy I know it will bring to have the baby home, I really want to get this over with is because it's a huge responsibility.

  Women, this is the most important thing you'll ever do. It's the scariest thing you'll ever do. On one hand, I'm amazed at how little I seem to be involved. It's kinda like, just fuel the body and it does the rest. The fact that I'm capable of harvesting, for lack of a better word, a set of lungs, a liver, kidneys, fingers and toes, another heart, etc., is AMAZING to me. Since seeing the baby's heartbeat, and hopefully we'll get to see it next week, but insurance companies are notoriously stingy with ultrasounds, Donny has said to me at many random times, "I can't believe there are two hearts beating inside of you right now." And I'm all, "I know." Then I usually go throw up.

  One the other hand, you feel like it is so amazing and important you're bound to fuck it up. You should see me walking down the stairs. I'm tempted to start scooting down on my ass one step at a time like a toddler just to avoid falling. Just a few hours ago I was walking up the stairs and I didn't place my foot on the next step firmly enough and I kind of teetered backwards. I don't think I was in any real danger of falling, but it still scared me. With your uterus growing so rapidly your center of gravity is thrown off and that's why pregnant women get so clumsy.

  Last night I had another crying fit as I admitted to Donny how scared I am. It's like life is too perfect. Perfect
daughter, perfect husband, perfect home, perfect grades, perfect eyebrows (don't judge me), and you wonder when that other shoe gonna drop. And you pray to God that it doesn’t drop with this baby. You know? Donny couldn't be less afraid and more confident. He says that since we tried so hard for a year to get pregnant with no results, and that this baby was conceived without us really trying, that it just proves he's meant to be here. And he's going to be fine.

  The other kind of fear I'm feeling comes with not having done this in nine years. I remember April 19th, 1999 so well. It was a Monday and Kali was exactly one week old. Her first week here, I was always surrounded with people – Sophie, my Mom, my Dad, stepmom and sister were visiting. But by that Monday everyone was gone and I was alone with Kali for the first time. Some time that morning I called my mother.

  "Hey, um... I need to take a shower."

  "So, go take a shower."

  "Well, what am I supposed to do with Kali?"

  "What is she doing?"

  "Sleeping in her little chair."

  "Then go take a shower and leave her little butt right where she is."

  "Are you sure?"

  "What are you going to do? Take her in the bathroom with you?

  I snort. "Duh. No."

  So, Kali sat in her bouncy chair on the bathroom floor while I took a shower. It was the quickest shower in the history of ass washing. I fear I may do the same thing with this baby. I find myself wondering how I ever slept when Kali was first born. How did I not watch her every moment to make sure she was still breathing? Why are we even decorating a nursery, which now seems miles away from my bedroom, when I know I'm probably going to insist the baby stay in our room? I was at Pottery Barn Kids website yesterday looking at nursery furniture and wondering if I should go ahead and buy the baby a twin bed now... you know, so I can sleep in it in the nursery at night while he sleeps in the crib. Don’t judge me!

  Finally, I have that fear of "what kind of world am I bringing this child into?" I remember April 20th, 1999 clearly as well. I was home with Kali and called my mother at work once again.

  "Ma, these two crazy ass white boys just shot up a school."

  Later that day, I watched Kali sleeping in the crib and cried my eyes out. I wanted to put her back inside of me because I thought of all the times her feelings would be hurt, or the times her heart would be broken. I thought I just brought a child into the world, and even the white schools in good areas weren't even safe anymore! Just when I thought I had gotten used to a whole new set of worries for Kali, I'm going to go through all the old ones with this baby.

  And physically? Whew. They say that the more times you're pregnant, the sooner you'll feel the signs. This is for two reasons. One, you've done it before so you can recognize the flutters for what they are earlier. Two, your body has that muscle memory thing going on. Even if you had an abortion or miscarriage, you were pregnant and your body remembers. Each time the egg implants I imagine your uterus lets out a weary sigh, "Ok, boys, you know the drill. I'm going to start stretching out a little more every day. You, organs above me, yeah, you. Scoot up. Lungs? Get ready for some company. It's gonna get cramped up there."

  And let me tell you, I feel it. I can no longer sleep comfortably on my stomach, back, or left side. Don't ask me why. Well, the stomach is obvious, but when I lay on my left or my back I have shortness of breath. Also, laying on my right side makes gas come out easier when I have it. TMI? Perhaps, but it's true. And unfortunately that position puts my butt right in Donny's direction so we're thinking about switching sides on the bed... again.

  And finally, physically, let's talk about the boobs. I can no longer bend forward to pick things up. My boobs feel like they are being pricked with a thousand tiny needles when I do. They have already gotten bigger. When I lean forward it's like all the blood and whatever they're filling with (colostrom?) just rushes to my poor nipples. And speaking of nipples. They are constantly hard. Ok, maybe not constantly, but they spend a great deal of the day at attention and I don't know why.

  And guess what, guys? We still got 7 months to go!!

  A Great Doctor Visit

  January 18, 2008

  Let me just tell you that I hadn't left this house since December 29th. As I got ready to go to the doctor this morning (you know, bubble bath, shaving, coochie maintenance) I thought, "What the hell am I going to wear?" My jeans won't close! Correction: They'll close, but it's not comfortable.

  Donny came home to take me to the doctor. "Awww, you're so cute. We need to get you some spandex."

  "Fuck you. I don't do spandex."

  "Oooh, you know what we should get? Those little jogging suits with the hoodies. And you get the ones that say stuff across the butt."

  "Yeah, so as my ass spreads the words will be all stretched the fuck out."

  "Yeah, and people will have to walk from left to right just to read it."

  "Fuck you, Donny. Fuck you."

  The woman's clinic where my doctor is located is connected to, and affiliated with, the hospital where we went to the emergency room last month. We decided to stop there and pick up the ultrasound records from our visit in case the doctor wanted to see them. When we got to doctor's office, while we waited to be seen, Donny starts flipping through a magazine. I start noticing a trend in all the articles and flip it over to read the cover, "Conceive."

  "Uh, we already did that."

  So, we're finally seen and Donny is sent to wait in the exam room while I get weighed and my blood pressure is taken. I warn the nurse, "I can't button my jeans so they're wide open under this sweater."

  "Bless you're heart. You're so cute."

  As she weighed me I explained that I had just lost 20lbs before getting pregnant. She said she had lost 50lbs and then got pregnant. Twice. I liked my doctor almost immediately after he walked into the room. He was this older white man who has a slight limp. We first talked about the vomiting. He said that it sounds like I have the hyper-thing. The thing (that I can't pronounce) means "vomiting" and the hyper means "vomiting a lot." (Sometimes I spell vomiting with two "t" and I have no idea which is correct, but I'm thinking one looks better.) Anyway, he said I can keep taking the stuff I already have:

  1) The Zofran tablets that dissolve under my tongue. They last 12 hours, but I only get nine pills per month from my insurance. It's the stuff they give to cancer patients to help with the nausea caused by chemo and radiation.

  2) The phenegran, which is cheaper, only lasts 6 hours and knocks my ass out.

  He also suggested Sea Bands. Divers wear them on their wrists to ward off sea sickness. There's a little ball that presses against the inside of your wrists and hits a pressure point that eases nausea. They also have Relief Bands that are larger, like a small watch, and the part that covers your inner wrist is larger and hits more areas so is sometimes more effective. It releases an electrical charge. The Sea Bands are like $6, and the Relief Bands are like $50. Some of the bands come with rechargeable batteries.

  Then we talked about the cyst in my right ovary. He explained that it is normal, but he went into greater detail than the woman who took my ultrasound at the hospital. He explained that when you conceive, the ovary grows a little cyst that releases the pre-egg into your uterus. As the egg fertilizes the cyst remains and it releases what the baby needs to grow during the first trimester. Once the placenta is fully formed (anywhere from 10-12 weeks) it begins to take over and release the hormones and stuff the baby needs and the cyst dissolves. He said it's rare, but sometimes the cyst grows, becomes painful, twists, and has to be removed before the baby is born, but again, it's really rare.

  He said that over the past 25-50 years they've learned a lot about these ovarian pregnancy cysts. Apparently, many years ago women would have them removed early on because cysts = bad, but then they would miscarry and doctors realized that it was because the cyst wasn't around to do its job. He and the nurse agreed that this should have been explained to me before. He also said that intercours
e can aggravate and sometimes rupture the cyst, but the rupture part is really rare as well.

  "Don't worry. I'm too busy throwing up to think about intercourse."

  And damn if his old self didn't laugh and blush. I love this doctor!! Oh, I didn't tell you guys. The radiology department in the hospital gave us my records on a CD-ROM, so when we told the nurse that she wasn't sure they'd be able to view it. "I've never seen the records given that way." When we told the doctor he was like, "Well, let's go to my office and have a look. My laptop is on." As we headed to his office we passed our nurse who said, "Oooh, I want to go too. You guys will be the first. I want to see if this works."

  So, we all sat around the doctor's desk, in his very nice office, and watched as he loaded the disc. And there everything was. It was so cool. I have the disc and I'll try to take some screenshots and see if I can post the pics in a blog. Anyway, he gave me a new due date of 8/12, but he said that may change next week as they take new measurements. Yup, I'm keeping my Tuesday appointment and that's when they'll be doing a new ultrasound.

  He explained that it's going to look drastically different than it did just three weeks ago. The baby now has a neck and arms, legs, fingers and toes. Finally, I asked the question I'd been dying to all visit.

  "Um, this is going to sound totally vain, but when can I relax my hair and touch up these gray roots?"

  I thought his old white ass might not know what relaxing was but he just scoffed, tossed his hand in the air and said, "You can do it now. It doesn't get into your blood. I have patients who have had multiple pregnancies and they're beauticians. They're inhaling that stuff all day and processing their hair and their babies are fine."

  Finally, he explained that in another week or so the baby will be done developing and then just growing and gaining weight. I'm so close to being past the hard stuff, he assured me.