Wednesday, October 10, 2012
SOS - Sperm Missiles Invading!
Operation Cheers To The Second Time has been launched. Yes - we had unprotected sex. A little sperm missile invaded my egg. At least I think it did. It's too early to tell for sure. I know it doesn't sound especially romantic, but once the purpose of sex is baby making, I see myself as an assembly line. I blame my scientific background for it. This is not to say I did not enjoy the means by which one gets pregnant. I did. But that's not the point. The point is that I am convinced I am expecting. I know it usually doesn't happen on the first try, but odds are a strange thing (and may they ever be in your favor).
I know I said that we would only start with the baby making efforts after I run the half marathon on Sunday. But I went for my annual exam last week and the nurse practitioner told me that based on what she was seeing, she'd recommend we hop to it that night. I checked my calendar to confirm that I was indeed ovulating and had no better plans for the evening, and decided it was time for me to face my fears. As far as the marathon, I figured I could still run it. Based on my previous pregnancy, I should have at least 3-4 more days before getting nauseous. The only thing I didn't think through was the imodium I was going to take before the run, which of course I am not allowed to anymore (in case those missiles hit the target). So in the end, I might not be able to finish the race, because I will be stuck in a porta potty somewhere around mile 8. Such a bummer!
I've heard from a few people that I should be more positive and optimistic about this pregnancy for my own (and presumably everyone else's) sake. I don't think I am being negative or pessimistic. I think I am enlightened. I want to be ready this time. I had faith before. I believed I could beat the morning sickness. (This is a good time to clarify there was nothing "morning" about it. I had the misconception that you wake up sick, puke and go on with your day. I thought that even if you puke more than once a day, you still feel somewhat normal in between. I didn't. Puking was the easiest part. If you've ever had a stomach flu, or a really bad hangover, or if you get car sick, that is exactly it. Now imagine you are stuck in that car for 9 months. Car sick and hungover. That's a very long time. Even if you get your own cute little lamborghini at the end of it, it is still a very long time.) I did every single thing recommended - ginger, saltines, normal portions, iron free vitamins, B6, raspberry tea, acupressure, exercise (which made everything hundred times worse) - nothing helped. I waited to get past the first trimester and it kept going. I waited until the end of the second trimester, and then I accepted it was not going to end until the kid was born. Which was exactly right. It takes a lot out of you when you keep hoping and believing, and you are let down day after day after day. It's not always true that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Sometimes it makes you shatter into pieces that are never to be put back together exactly right.
It is said that some degree of nausea, with or without vomiting, occurs in 50 to 90 percent of all pregnancies. However, only 5 percent continue with it until delivery. I think it is safe to say that most women don't know what it is to be in the 5 percent (if you want to be precise, about 95%). It is also safe to say that zero percent of men can relate. I met a woman in my son's gymnastic class that is pregnant and suffers from (morning) sickness. We talked about how you plan your meals based on how they are going to taste coming back out. (Example - chocolate milk is much easier to vomit than jamba juice). I immediately liked her, because she gets it. You can't have this conversation with just anybody, because they lack the experience. Which is precisely the reason why I would recommend that people who do not belong to the 5% don't give out advice. How often do you welcome advice from people who have no experience on the subject matter? If you want to be supportive, then offer empathy, condolences, and maybe a personalized bucket. Don't tell me how I should feel, how I should think, how I should react and don't state the obvious - that it is all worth it in the end. Please.
The next time you'll hear from me I will have the results of Operation Cheers To The Second Time - round 1. I wonder if the odds will be indeed in my favor.