 | Diary Navigation:
|
January 2, 2003
The first chapter of 2003 is turning out to be some revelation! This entry is all about me but trust me when I say, it's relevant.
I know *everything* about my body. I know when I’m getting sick and how long I have to head it off. If I start guzzling extra water in time, a cold usually passes in three days with minimal fuss. When something is amiss, I know pretty quickly. The older I get the more I learn about my body. But, another thing I have learned about getting older is that your body will betray you. You can’t always predict biology and one may sneak up on you from time to time. The year before we conceived Jarod, my cycles became shorter for no apparent reason. But they came regularly every 25 days and O stayed put at day 14. I didn’t stress about it.
After Jarod was born and I began exclusive breastfeeding and pumping for all his daytime feedings, my cycles became slightly irregular. I still had the reliability of my natural fertility signs and I didn’t worry about the fact that I was on a 23 day cycle when weaning happened. I assumed it was part of getting closer to 30 and depleted hormones. With my PPD and ongoing battles with depression, I decided that the hormonal roller coaster of the pill, Depo shot or Norplant were not for me. The pill was always more trouble than it was worth as far as I was concerned. Steve had no problem with the Trojan man coming between us and I was happy that I had one less thing to worry about.
We decided during my pregnancy with Jarod that two children were plenty. When he got here and we discovered all his problems and then Jaida was diagnosed, it became a concrete decision. Unfortunately, we never got around to scheduling Steve’s vasectomy. One of the kids was always sick, we had appointments up the wazoo and work was hectic. We barely had time to be alone together, much less calculate the perfect timing to conceive again. Needless to say we kept putting it off. When I had my breast reduction surgery, I fully understood I would probably never be able to nurse again and I wasn’t planning on needing that particular bodily function anymore anyway. We had a consult with a urologist in November and scheduled Steve’s procedure for January 2.
Well you know what they say; man’s mind plans his way but God directs his path. As Christmas came and went, I waited patiently for good old AF. I forgot to mark my personal calendar when she made her last appearance so I just thought I had the dates wrong in my head. Then I started to notice some subtle changes in myself. I was experiencing full blown PMS but I was really sweet between outbursts. I also had no chocolate or sugar cravings. That is about as normal for me as sprouting feathers. I did have a week-long thing for McDonald’s Big-n-Tasty burgers that was a little abnormal, but I chalked it up to AF. Steve even commented that I was being so nice to him the other day.
I also noticed a weird euphoria. I had these little voices inside my head saying things that didn’t make sense. When I passed my old OB’s office last week, I thought to myself, I never got to visit his new office. (They had built a new building during my pg with Jarod.) Somewhere inside my head, a voice said ‘you’ll get to see it soon enough.’ I brushed it off and kept driving. Then there was the little voice that said, ‘what about that night early in December? You did O the very next day.’ I told myself I was making all this up and I was blowing simple PMS into something bigger than it was.
At the risk of making you all think I’m totally certifiable, I will get back to the story. Okay. So I consult the savviest, most supportive women I know, the diary writers’ email group. They all told me to just buy a pregnancy test and get it over with. After fighting with myself over being so paranoid, I snuck out to CVS on New Year’s Day and bought a double pack of Clear Blue Easy to find out before the men with the nets showed up. While I stood in line reading the back of the box, I felt really stupid. I hated to waste money when I should have been at home waiting for AF like I’d been doing for nearly a week.
I got home and tried to sneak past Steve with the test in my back, tucked securely in the waistband of my sweats. He asked me for a kiss and I stalled, “I’ve gotta go to the bathroom, I’ll be right back.” I closed the bathroom door and the door to the powder room area. I figured if he followed me in the way he does sometimes, I could hear him coming. I opened the box and read the instructions. I ripped open the foil wrapper and did the deed while counting to five. Before I could sit the test stick on the counter, a blue line popped up in the big square window. I grabbed the instructions and frantically tried to confirm that was the control window. I was holding the paper wrong and I had the Spanish side. Sheesh… Then I saw it. The small circular window was for control.
What does a blue line in the big window mean!? I threw the instructions on the floor and grabbed the box. I looked at the stick and then at the box, back at the stick and back to the box. Oh my God. I felt my hands shaking and I didn’t know whether I should laugh or cry. A line in each window means you’re pregnant. I almost took a chance and called the help line. Maybe I did it wrong. I never used this brand before, EPT is my favorite but they were out of that one. What am I going to do? How am I going to tell Steve? I know he’s going to pass the hell out. Oh Lord, I know you are in control but this? I can’t do it! What if this baby has more problems than Jaida and Jarod put together? Or maybe the third time’s the charm? For crying out loud I need a Pepsi… but caffeine is bad for the embryo. I realized I was already thinking about this little being and putting it before myself. We’ll get through this and we’ll be fine. I know how to handle *almost* anything, I can do it. We can do it. I know we can.
Since Steve is almost as intuitive as I am, I decided to keep this to myself for a while. During my other two pregnancies he knew because I kept dropping hints and bringing up every possible symptom. This time I want to surprise him. I've kept this to myself but I almost spilled the beans several times. During his procedure today, the nurse asked how many children we had and I almost said three. It's certainly started to sink in over the last 24 hours. Jennifer S. from TT said we could postpone the V for now. I said the only way that would happen is if every urologist in a 100 mile radius got hit by a bus on the same day and a tornado destroyed each one's office. :o)
Our first day back at work is Monday and I plan to have flowers delivered to him at work. That also happens to be the date we became a couple in 1990 and we always mark the occasion every year. It’s as important to us as our wedding anniversary. I’ve decided to write on the card: “Happy 13 years to the most wonderful man I know. You are an excellent husband and the best father in the world to our two children. I can’t wait to see you hold baby #3.” I figure at least I’ll have witnesses if he keels over and maybe it will buy me some time before we get home that night. Flowers should soften the blow, don’t you think? He’ll have a few hours for the shock to wear off and I can cry on my co-workers’ shoulders if he reacts negatively. Oy vey! I’m neck deep in it this time!
Kim, Jaida, Jarod & lambchop (EDD 9/03)
 |  |
|
want to keep a diary on iParenting?
Authoring a diary on the iParenting network allows you to chronicle your family's story, preserving it for years to come. It's also a great way to get the most out of the iParenting community. Click here to start...
|
The iParenting Media Awards program helps parents find the best products for their families. 
