Not my proudest moment

There has been no more blood.

I just wanted to get that out there before I go on with my real post.

I spent Saturday pretty much in bed. My back hurt from laying around and doing nothing.

I woke up Sunday morning feeling like a human being. My boobs barely hurt. From 15dpo until Saturday night, my boobs hurt BADLY. I mean really, really badly. One day when I took my bra off I literally almost cried. And then they didn't. This, of course, caused me to the freak out. No bloaty feeling in my belly, no breast pain, and spotting on the TP the day before lead to a very cavey Trish.

Early in the day, the husband asked how I was feeling and my reply was "not very pregnant." Little did I know that would cause the issues it did.

Because my back hurt so bad from doing nothing on Saturday and because I'd decided that my pregnancy was over, I decided to do some small things around the house. I started some laundry, but only carried a few items at a time so as not to lift anything heavy. I took the ornaments off the tree. Not much, but enough to get me moving at least a little.

David tried to put some blankets in the washing machine and one point and I snapped at him that I was doing laundry and would take care of it. I was defensive because I'd been a lump all weekend and felt like it was for naught.

Later in the evening, a friend sent me a nice message telling me she was thinking of me and David caught me with tears (of joy) in my eyes. When he looked at me funny, I explained that someone just said something nice and it made me cry.

He replied "Yeah, I bet. That must be great." When I asked what he was talking about, he said that it sure would be nice to hear something nice every once in a while.

I looked at him a little funny because I'd said lots of nice things to him throughout the day (thanking him for cleaning, telling him the house looked nice etc.) and I said "What?"

He said that when he asked me how I felt that I'd snapped and told him "not very pregnant." He went on to (again) tell me how all I do is bitch. That all I've ever wanted to be is pregnant and now I am but I can't just be happy.

Man, did that hit a nerve. Guilty as charged. At first I rolled my eyes, he just doesn't get it and how can I explain that I'm scared for the millionth time for the person that I REALLY feel like should get it?

But he kept going.

I started crying.

I started begging him to stop.

He kept going.

I started screaming. I don't mean yelling. I mean screaming. I don't think I've ever actually screamed before. I mean, not w/o the conscious thought of "I'm going to scream now... ahhhhhhhhhh." I mean, really screaming. Think lifetime movie, bad acting, screaming. And I couldn't stop. I kept thinking I should stop, but I couldn't. Every time I'd stop screaming, he'd start again, and the screaming would start again. I wasn't in control.

Now, those of you who know me, know that I don't really "do" out of control. I may be an emotional girl, but I'm typically in control of what I'm doing, even if I'm not making the best decisions. This was not one of those times. No control.

And still, he wouldn't stop. I honestly don't even know what he was saying at that point. It was just his voice. When I finally stopped screaming and dissolved into sobs, I started begging him to leave me alone. The only thing I can remember him saying is "No."

So I got up and got my keys and tried to leave. No shoes. No bra. Crying hysterically. Yeah, that's my white trash heritage showing through. He came to the car and told me I wasn't leaving. I was in no condition to drive. (True enough.)

Since I'd finally gotten him out of the bedroom, I ran back to the bedroom and locked the door behind me. Do you have the full vision of a COPS episode yet? It was pretty much like that except there was no violence or cheap beer.

After I laid in the bedroom sobbing for probably 45 minutes (again, I couldn't make it stop.) I opened the bedroom door and found him standing there.

The first words out of my mouth were "I don't want to do this anymore. When we lose this baby, I'm done. No more trying. I give up."

He shook his head and said that I didn't mean that. I told him that I did. He argued that I didn't.

I told him that I can't take it. That I seriously think I'm losing my mind. I can't take it. He doesn't understand what it's like. That I know I'm a miserable bitch to live with. I know I have nothing nice to say. I know. I'm sick of myself, but I can't help it. It's who I am. I have every right to be scared, but I'm tired of it. I'm tired of being afraid to take an ibuprofen even when I'm not pregnant because what if it's still in my system when we get pregnant. Scared to drink a Pepsi, or eat cold cuts or take a warm bath. I'm tired of being in physical and mental pain. I'm tired of pills & poking & doctors. I'm tired of planning our whole life around maybes and what-ifs.

I can't take it anymore.

He said we can take a break. That if we do lose this baby- and he's not convinced- we'll take a break. We do need a break. But he isn't giving up. I said that we can take a break and discuss it again, but I couldn't guarantee I'd ever be ready to try again.

I cried and cried and cried. He asked me what I needed and I told him that I needed him not to make me feel worse about being scared. He couldn't ever seem to agree to that. I told him that I needed reassurance that we'd be okay. I emailed him during the day on Friday after the sort-of-okay beta and told him that I needed a pep talk when I got home. It never came. All I wanted to hear was that we'd be okay no matter what, but even that seemed to be too much to ask.

That's when he started to cry. I'm not married to a crier. So, of course, when his voice broke and he said "Trish. If we never have kids, we'll be okay. We have each other. I have you. That's all I need." I cried even more.

He kept asking if I was going to be okay. I said I didn't know but I didn't have much choice. After nearly 2 hours of crying, I finally stopped. I think I ran out of tears. Plus my head hurt like a bitch.

He cooked dinner (a very late dinner by then) and we ate. He must have asked if I was okay about 15 more times. What can I say? I'm not. But life goes on anyway.

By late Sunday night I was much calmer. I think I was too exhausted to be anxious anymore. And most of today, I was mostly okay. I was sensitive. This wasn't a day I could hear "Everything will be okay." But I was fairly calm.

I called the doctor this morning and told them about the spotting. Basically I'm on pelvic rest until further notice. Good Nurse Crystal was very encouraging & sympathetic but said she wasn't TOO concerned about the spotting, but wanted me to take it easy anyway. I'm to go to work, come home and put my feet up and do nothing else.

Again, there's been no more blood. Trust that I've inspected the toilet paper thoroughly. My boobs hurt really bad again early this morning, then didn't again, then did again and currently really don't. So who knows?

I wish I was more convinced that things were fine, but I'm not really. I've had moments today when I've thought maybe everything was okay. But mostly I think I'm steeling myself for a bad u/s on Monday.

After that, I don't know what.


I share this none-to-flattering story with you not because I'm proud or because I'm defending my own actions, but because it's part of our journey. Whether we end up parents or not, and if so, how we get there, this is part of it. It's ugly and it sucks. It makes normally logical people insane. It sucks.


--Trish