Wednesday, June 04, 2014

Write It Out (In Which I Share With You ALL THE FEELINGS)

For the last several weeks I've been having all kinds of weird food reactions.  It's miserable and aversive to be in pain every time you eat anything, so I lost 5% of my weight in about a month, not on purpose.  (It's frightening to be so little in control of one's body.)

Last month I was out gardening with my friend C.  It was a very, very hot, sunny day.  I stood up too fast and got very dizzy, and she said ..... "Is there any chance you could be pregnant?"  "NO!!" I said.  However, later that day, I discovered her words to be prophetic.

(I would like to specify, purely for the sake of my pride/ not looking like a total idiot, that I had a functioning Mirena hanging out in my lady bits for A WHOLE YEAR, doing its job.  Right up until... oh, a bit before April Fool's Day.)

Words can hardly express how upset I am about this.  Imagine a great deal of screaming.  Then more.

My health is precarious- of course! - which is why I took RELIABLE steps to prevent this (except not reliable enough).  I am physically miserable.  I wake up in pain five times a night or more.  I have no expectation of this improving in the next several months.  Contemplating unrelieved chronic pain is extremely depressing.

This is the equivalent of a tornado upending our next year's plans.  Many choices have been pushed from 'eventually' to 'now run around and panic.'  I have exactly two infant things left- the most adorable of the baby clothes - because I GAVE IT ALL AWAY.  I feel extremely dumb, like I don't know where babies come from or something.  (This article: giant irony klaxon.)

I am still interviewing for a job, which makes the whole situation even more complicated.  The nature of the job means I should probably tell them before I accept any offers, because the hiring committee is made up of the job's direct supervisors (this deserves its own post, possibly after I finish interviewing).  And, of course, maybe they won't hire me!   Stultifying in a tiny town with a newborn sounds like a fantastic recipe for misery; taking a new job with an infant (again!) sounds... I don't even know.

The few people I have told (see also: nearly fainting in their gardens) say 'Congratulations!'*  and I want to scream "NO!!!! THE OPPOSITE OF CONGRATULATIONS!!!" - clearly, in any event, I should wait to tell people until I can stop bursting into tears every time.**   For various reasons, my spouse and I are choosing to continue with this pregnancy, but how I wish it could have gone to someone who wanted one.

The only bright spot: Dicletin is back on the US market.  So now I only feel like throwing up a quarter of the time.

*I do realize this is the only socially acceptable response.
** Today, I did tell someone who found herself unexpectedly pregnant at age 46 - three years ago - so at least she knows exactly how I feel.  Her youngest kid - the older ones are almost 30 now - and my kids are best pals.  

24 comments:

  1. This is, in truth, a most inconvenient (and scary, dangerous, ill-timed, and many other adjectives) miracle pregnancy. God has a very strange sense of humor. I do hope you can make it through the next few months with a minimum of medical complications. I know the house logistics make you want to pull your hair out, and I also hope that gets resolved soon.

    As for the job, I really don't know which is worse: small town with a newborn or new job with a newborn. I vaguely feel the new job would be preferable, as you could afford to send the children to daycare AND have several hours a day with brain-fulfilling work. I know your children are delightful, and frequently maddening, screaming, willful, etc like all other children.

    In short, I wish the very very best outcome of all possible outcomes in this terribly unexpected, teeth-knashing, clothes-rending, hair-pulling situation. At least you will have sympathetic friends to listen whenever you need to vent.

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    1. Thank you; you're very sympathetic. :)

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  2. I still remember the sinking feeling I got with that first pregnancy test. Yes, I wanted a kid, yes I love my child tremendously, yes, she's wonderful, but, wow, I really didn't want it to have happened then. It's harsh. And hard.

    I did the small town with a newborn. We moved there when Gwen was 18 weeks old, and stayed there for about 15 months. I took to going shopping and describing to this inert lump of an infant everything we walked past simply as an excuse to get out of the house. When my maternity leave ended and she started daycare at 4 months, I positively skipped into my office, SO FRIGGIN' PLEASED to have something to do other than wander around a stultifying city where hardly anyone spoke my language (in a quite literal sense).

    Good luck with everything.

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    1. I remember that stage! "And here is a tree. And here is another tree. This one has flowers, see? Oh, gods, it's only been ten minutes."

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  3. All the hugs. I can barely imagine what you're going through. I wish you the best possible outcome in this situation!!

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    1. Thank you. It's... very surprising. Very. I'm still surprised.

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  4. All the hugs and empathy (and everything-free-magic-internet-chocolate)! Contemplating adding a baby to little ones must be enough to make you want to scream, however wonderful babies are and however much you will love your children.

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    1. Thank you. Mmm, chocolate. You capture it precisely: babies are wonderful, and eventually I will probably be happy/resigned about it, but eventually is not now.

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  5. Lordy. You know of course that I know exactly what you're going through. When I found self in similar situation a couple of years back the first person I told - and only via email because I couldn't actually bring myself to say the words out loud - said (she had twins at the same time I had #2)- have you tried throwing yourself down the stairs? Which made me laugh, but also touched me because it was JUST what I wanted to hear. No: Congratulations!, or It'll Be Fine! or Oh, A New Baby... just an acknowledgment that it wasn't what I wanted to happen, and in fact was REALLY what i DID NOT want to happen. But we survived, and I have to say that while having three is harder, logistically, the family dynamic between the kids is much better. (eg: instead of 100% of my children fighting 100% of the time, only two thirds of them fight about 50% of the time. also, the toddler is my favourite person. if I didn't have her I'd be irritated with all of my children, all the time. see? updsides!), The newborn months I have, however, blanked from my mind. remember: time passes. the days are long but the years fly by. Sorry about the pain and discomfort. I wish I could send you something... Tiger Balm?? (Singapore is awash with tiger balm. crap for everything else, alas). xx

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    1. I look forward to more widely distributed fighting.

      A friend just offered me her sincere condolences which was, likewise, exactly what I wanted to hear.

      I think they might even have Tiger Balm at Walmart here. I'm afraid I might be allergic to it (only partly kidding).

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  6. Oi. I won't claim to understand beyond the fact that deviations from the expected fertility are always stressful and tend to upend your plans. But your health concerns make this extra tough. I so much hope that this pregnancy will go easy on your body. And that the job and house issues somehow work themselves out.

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    1. Thank you. It's... the exact opposite of still longing for a child to hold, you know? I'm sure everything will work out for us eventually.

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  7. anotherscientist2:55 AM

    ho boy.
    maybe you'll have postpartum-immune-resetting and all your sensitivities will magically be cured?

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    1. I can only hope. Dear Immune System: Cut it the fuck out.

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  8. I am imagining myself in your position and I'm about to cry. So many FEELINGS, as you might say. I am FEELING for you.

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    1. About to cry OR throw up! Or maybe both!

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  9. wow! what an earthquake sort of news. I won't say congratulations. Just. Wow.
    And also, I know you will figure things out.
    And YEAH for diclectin - my Canadian friends have loved it.

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    1. I'm glad the FDA finally pulled their heads out of their rears. Next up: revamping their useless A/B/C/X double-blind-only drugs-in-pregnancy classification!

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  10. Darcy7:56 PM

    I don't know what to say other than that I am thinking of you . . .

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    1. Thank you, my dear Darcy. I appreciate it.

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  11. YE GODS. Jenny. What a little bombshell in your already tough situation. This child will be awesome and loved and amazing and that said...I'm SO SORRY.

    I too was reminded of those movies in which the person gets hit in the head and has amnesia and then gets hit in the head again and it's cured. Please let it work that way for your immune system.

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    1. ... instead of my T-cells being all like GROUNDHOG DAY!!! Yes. I hope.

      I'm trying to resign myself to the fact that most of this last year was kind of terrible and most of next year is going to be kind of terrible. Also great in many ways, but awful. I'm not there yet. Thank you for your condolences. I, too, am very sorry. Full of love and hope, well, I have until December to work around to that.

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  12. Wow..I totally get your feelings on this!! And know that's it's totally okay to be sad, mad, scared, frustrating, WHATEVER. It's not something you signed up for and that's always scary. I know if it happened to me I'd be totally devastated (and I think about it happening and what would I do...).

    Just know we are here to support you, however you're feeling! I hope things work out for the best and the journey isn't too painful for you (on all levels).

    HUGS to you.

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  13. Sending you love & hugs -- with an open invitation to 1) talk on the phone anytime; 2) come to DC to visit, if desired/manageable; 3) have us descend upon you in situ, if desired/manageable!

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