First trimester ... complete

As promised to myself earlier in this pregnancy, this blog is serving as my way to vent through this pregnancy.  It's only for me to work through stuff.  At the end of the first trimester I find this all sinking in ... and I don't like how I feel.  It's not just that physically I am exhausted, and puking, and generally a hot mess, it's deeper ... and a little daunting.

I confessed to Jon the other day that I don't feel any connection to this baby growing inside of me.  At first I thought it was God's way of letting me down easy because I was going to lose the baby in a miscarriage.  I've had a miscarriage, years ago.  It was my first pregnancy and I think that loss will always be a miserable and painful memory.  I don't really care about the scientific "there was something wrong with the pregnancy and that's why you miscarried" reasoning ... all I know is I lost a baby I was connected to at the word, "you're pregnant."

I have death issues with this pregnancy. 

Jon and I had a deep discussion the other day about what would happen if something went terribly wrong when I have this baby.  I asked him point blank if there was a choice to be made, me or the baby?  He made it all sound very medical and whatever the doctors would say was best and it was a non issue anyway because it would never happen.  I'm not sure.  When a doctor looks you in the eye and says you can die ... it hits you in the gutt.  What if I bleed out ... I've found myself staring at my three little boys these days thinking, "I'm sorry... I'm sorry I wasn't more careful and I got pregnant.  I'm sorry if anything happens to me and you are left without a mom.  I'm sorry I won't be there to watch you grow and become men."

The guilt of having another baby when I KNEW the risks is almost unbearable.  I find myself going around the house "preparing" in case something goes wrong.  I'm purging items from my house by the garbageful.  Things that once seemed really important I now see as stuff I've carried around with me for years, but never even used or looked at in just as many.  It's as if I don't want to leave any stone unturned, any loose ends, anything for Jon and the boys' to have to contend with.

Then there's the loss of connection.

I have to wonder if the guilt and impending sense of incredible doom to have no connection to this baby ... Jon said he thinks I have excitement over the pregnancy confused with connection to the baby.  "The reality, "as he says, "is that this isn't your first baby.  You know that babies and kids are hard work, you have three at home already, Caden is only 2 1/2, that's a much closer age span than any of the rest of the kids."  I guess he's right ... and he's trying to be supportive and helpful (really, this sort of insight from Jon is rather impressive as I usually only get ignored so that I'll stop talking like a crazy person).

When people find out I'm pregnant the excited response is always the same, "are you hoping it's a girl ?!"  I just smile and say the atypical response of "sure, that would be nice in this house full of boys," but I really want to scream and yell and cry.  "I'm dying inside! I have no connection to this kid, I feel guilty every day when I look at my boys, and even more guilty that I can't make this baby inside of me somehow send some message that this is okay ... and "it's" okay ... and I don't really know how I could be so irresponsible when I knew the risks involved getting pregnant again."

I used to have a functioning Dad that I could talk to about things that seemed terribly irrational, but very real to me.  I don't have that anymore, and I suppose there is a part of me that's really angry that I feel so helpless and he is the only person in the world that could make the world seem rational when it felt like it was spinning out of control.  At the end of the day, I have to make sense of all of this and confront all of these fears.  I'm doing everything I can for this baby ... it makes me feel some semblance of control in the final destiny.

I would like to blame my feelings on fluctuating hormones and feeling like my body has simply given up on me.  I don't think any self respecting pregnant person is supposed to talk about what they really feel.  It's as if being pregnant is such a big blessing and miracle that the world assumes you are ecstatic and hopeful.  I'm not ecstatic or hopeful ... and I wish I were. 

As I start to "grow" and my clothes are getting tighter, the reality is setting in.  This baby is coming to the world, I'm going to make it happen, and my body has to hang on and protect whatever is growing inside.  I have yet another doctor's appointment next week ... I'm tentative and worried, but I know that when I see that little heartbeat the fear, guilt, and lack of connection will fade for one precious moment.  I hope that feeling lasts.