9w 4d curses

I realized three things yesterday.

1) Junk food does not make upset stomachs any happier. In fact, eating potato chips, a Snickers bar, cheese curds, and mini cream puffs will only make me want to curse the gods. Bad, Lindsay, bad.

2) I have the best husband ever and you can't have him. Every day he asks me how I'm feeling, and when I tell him the truth (sick enough to curse the gods), he asks, "In the bad way? Nothing is wrong, right?" He loves us both. ♥

3) Soft-smelling Partylite candles solve a problem. Namely, when certain smells induce that lovely have-to-vomit feeling (such as the smell from frying those cheese curds... eau-de-frying-oil can stick in our house for up to 48 hours), light a few candles and the stomach settles back down. Much less cursing of the gods.

Four days to the next doctor appointment!

From "All I Wanted" by the completely awesome Paramore.

I could follow you to the beginning
Just to relive the start
And maybe then we'd remember to slow down
At all of our favorite parts.
All I wanted was you...

9w 1d whale

Ahhhhh! Are you serious? This is nine weeks pregnant, in a first pregnancy?

Granted, there's some weird driver's-license-esque shadowing going on there, but what the H? I'm blowing up!

According to the Internet (how on earth did our mothers survive their pregnancies without the Internet?), I'm probably just the most bloated I've ever been in my life and it'll be a month or two before that bubble of whatever is replaced by actual baby.

Or else I'm well on my way to looking like a beached whale come May 2010.

Quotes from maternity shirts seen online... Anyone have any other good ones?

I'm not fat, I'm pregnant
I'm a virgin... but this is an old T-shirt
I think I might be pregnant (worn on someone far along)
Touch the belly, lose the hand
Watermelon smuggler
Coming to a hospital room near you
Birth control is for wimps
I grow people. What's your superpower?
Yup... I swallowed a basketball
Don't touch me. It's contagious.

9 weeks birthday

"Happy Birthday! Twenty-seven years old... do you feel any different?"

"Yes, I feel bloated, sea-sick, starving-yet-revolted-by-food, exhausted, nervous, and happy. You?"

I'm officially older than my parents were when they had me. A couple months ago, that idea was disappointing, but being pregnant right now it just feels right. It's really happening, finally.

My naked self is... something I need to get used to. Things have re-proportioned themselves. I'm the only one who would ever notice it as drastic. To husband I'm a tad softer... and a tad overstuffed in a certain area. But, Baby, you're making your presence known to me.

You're about an inch now, I think... like a big grape with fingers and toes. A California Raisin, perhaps? I heard it through the grapevine...

It goes against reason, but I know (as in feel, acknowledge, perceive, experience, recognize) that Baby Schultz is growing. Without a doubt or plausible reason, I know that this is occurring, and it is the most comforting gift I can have at this moment.

Miscarriage used to feel inevitable, a countdown, tick tock tick tock. Now that ticking only marks my impatience to see Baby Schultz again via ultrasound, to feel Baby moving, to meet Baby out here in the world. Is it dangerous to think less about miscarriage, to stop preparing myself for the terrible fall, to finally open the door to that often unwelcome guest -- optimism? Yes, I'm setting myself up for disaster. Love will do that to you.

Tick tock tick tock tick tock

8w 3d history

A few words on my history with babies. I have none.

I have an older brother and two older cousins (none of them parents), and that's it for my entire generation in my family. That's literally it.

Before I met my husband and became ingratiated in his wonderfully large family, the closest I'd ever come to an infant was passing one in the supermarket. Am I intimidated by my own ignorance? Of course. But I'm more scared of "being told" than of not knowing. Meaning: I can't wait to figure it all out for myself. Next summer is going to be hard and exhausting and maybe the toughest time of my life so far, but it will also be the most exciting, hopefully the most rewarding. I won't know until I get there.

Today's symptoms and their reasons:

Nosebleed. My blood vessels have expanded, as well as the volume of blood pumping through my body. Apparently the blood vessels in my nose couldn't take the pressure. Thank you, box of Puffs on my desk and boss's sage advice to "pinch."

Shortness of breath. According to the Internet, I need more oxygen when I'm pregnant, and a certain hormone is telling this to the respiratory center in my brain.

Onions. I smell them when they're not here. I want them. On everything. I also want oranges, but not with the onions.

Bad taste. There has been a constant bad aftertaste in my mouth (not related to onions), every moment of the day. As if that weren't irritating enough, it makes it so that nothing tastes right. Possible reasons are that my body is releasing toxins through the lymphatic system, or it's somehow my body's response to its increased physical demands. After the awful nausea, this is the worst symptom to deal with.

Nausea (still). Constantly feeling like I should be at home, sick, is not easy. Though it hasn't found the cause, science points to a few likely factors: the rising level of the pregnancy hormone, prenatal vitamins, or a poor diet (onions?) are possible. Then there's evidence that suggests that it's supposedly worse (hmm) when you're carrying a girl...


9:07 p.m. update: onions are overrated

8w 2d letter

Dear Baby:

You're one-fifth of the way done. You've started moving, though I won't feel it until December or January, and your heart flutters at 150 beats per minute. Your face is beginning to take shape, your arms and legs continue to grow, and tiny feet and hand buds have appeared. Soon, you'll be an inch long.

Just keep growing strong, Baby, and I'll take care of the rest. I can handle it.

Love,
Mommy

From "Fumbling Towards Ecstasy" by Sarah McLachlan.

All the fear has left me now
I'm not frightened anymore
It's my heart that pounds beneath my flesh
It's my mouth that pushes out this breath
And if I shed a tear I won't cage it
I won't fear love
And if I feel a rage I won't deny it
I won't fear love...
Peace in the struggle
To find peace
Comfort on the way
To comfort...

8 weeks creation

I was sick throughout the entire day today. I can't decide if it's worse with or without food in my stomach. Either way, it feels like my body doesn't know what it's doing anymore.

Then there's my belly. I've been thin my whole life. I guess it doesn't look too different yet... but it definitely feels different. When I complained about it, Andy said he liked my "belly dough." Ugh.

I'm using doctor appointments as milestones to try to manage my impatience. Fifteen days until the next doctor appointment. After that, Andy and I will decide for sure how long we're going to wait before announcing the news to family -- Thanksgiving or Christmas.

In my typical fashion, I've been overeager for the Christmas season to start. When my iPod shuffled to "O Holy Night," I even let it play. I do this every year around this time, but I feel even more emotional about it this year.

Periodically, I look up the progress the baby may be making now. So much change, so much growing is happening while I go through the motions of the day, acting as if there's nothing different. But I am home to a miracle, and even with everything science shows, the creation of a brand new life is unfathomable. This tiny person is as amazing to me as the creation of the world.

Rather than song lyrics, today I'm quoting scripture: Ecclesiastes 11:5.

As you do not know the path of the wind, or how the body is formed in a mother's womb, so you cannot understand the work of God, the Maker of all things.

7w 2d womanhood

What is the definition of "woman"? I'm not looking for the obvious, but instead I'm considering all the often-talked-about feminist ideas of womanhood and "the female experience."

As a side note, why is womanhood a thought topic much more so than manhood? It isn't so common to philosophize about what it means to be a man and explore the male experience. Is this still the feminist movement in action, caused by remnants of continued gender discrimination? At what point will the amount of female discrimination equal the amount of male discrimination (in our country, anyway)?

Well, back to the so-common-it's-blasé topic of the female experience. Certainly, there are stages in this experience, elements that added together make up the full possibilities that a theoretical woman may collect in the course of her lifetime... elements that make such a lifetime into a celebration of our gender.

Trying to come up with a list of said elements brings to mind a certain Shania Twain song that touts men's shirts, short skirts, etc.

Some elements are taboo in common conversation as they fall under the too-much-information category -- menstruation and, part of this blog's focus, miscarriage are two of them. Sorry for any men that stumble across this page, but all the (of age) women you know do bleed down there. It's a part of life, and one that (menstruation, anyway) should be understood by all and shrugged at by now.

However, that doesn't mean it's intelligent to treat topics like miscarriage and abortion on the same level as what you're having for lunch today. If you haven't already heard of the Madison-based CEO who told the world via Twitter of her relief at having a miscarriage, I'm sorry to be the one to bring it up. Truly, her story is a waste of space. As a fellow public relations person, I can say that Penelope Trunk (a name as fake as it sounds) is someone who clearly plotted out her little publicity stunt. It earned her a new business title and the kind of national coverage over which we PR people drool.

Ms. Trunk is an insult to the nearly overwhelming pain, joy, and weighty substance of the clichéd female experience. Enough about her.

This blog of mine is small and simple. It doesn't even have followers at this point, because I haven't done anything to garner it any attention. But I still hope that it is able to convey the heaviness of these female experiences -- trying to conceive, miscarriage, pregnancy, and motherhood (coming soon). At least, I hope it shows respect.

At just seven weeks pregnant, I'm still at the starting line of this element of the wondersome female experience. It feels as though my life is culminating, like this enormous change is something for which I've been waiting a long, long time.

My remarkable ignorance at what is really coming for me actually only adds to the experience. No matter how much thinking and preparing I do, having an infant is going to blow my mind. So why am I grinning?

7w 1d* precision

The way Andy and I share this secret is so precious to me. As eager as I am to announce the news, I love that this is ours, and only ours. I've never felt closer to him than I do now.

Our second appointment with Dr. Hicks was brief and wonderful. "Yep, there it is," she said the moment she started the ultrasound. "That's the little heartbeat."

It's so tiny and so fragile, yet so alive. Andy said, "I guess I can't deny it now," and smiled. I love you.

At the moment, the due date widgets here are a little off, technically. Normally, today would be 7w 4d, but according to the ultrasound we were just at seven weeks yesterday, making my due date May 31. Of course, that's subject to change based on how Baby Schultz grows. I suppose I should've labeled my entries by date.

I told Andy I'd have to adjust all my calendars now. He was nice enough to describe me as "precise" rather than "obsessed." Thank you. My "precision" is a product of overactive thoughts due to excitement (and fear), and possibly a need to feel like I have some level of control in this situation.

When the doctor says that the chance of miscarriage goes down after 12 weeks, all I hear is that the chance of miscarriage is up right now. I want to tell my head please to stop constantly thinking thinking thinking about it before I go totally insane.

But then I sigh and smile like a silly person, just at those two little words... our baby. These are the thoughts of which I will never tire.

It's so overwhelming that it's really there. I'm scared I'll wake up from this dream. Here's the picture with the size computed -- not even half an inch yet. Grow, baby, grow!

6w 6d development

It's official. I've gone from 32C to 32D. I thought shopping was hard before... Now the only bras out there that come in my new size are nursing bras, and even then I can only find them online. Unsurprisingly, Andy is not bothered by this development.

I'm still sick, which is also not surprising. As long as that means Baby Schultz is healthy, keep the nausea coming.

6w 5d sickness

I am so so so sick. I can't function. Lord, help me. The second trimester can't come fast enough.

6w 4d ultrasound

Yesterday was our first ultrasound, and the doctor couldn't find the heartbeat. I keep telling myself to calm down, that it isn't a big deal. The doctor wanted to see us again in a week, so we'll be going back for another ultrasound on Monday. In the meantime, here's the shot of the amniotic sac.

I never thought pregnancy would be easy, and I was right. The nausea has picked up. If I felt this sick normally, I wouldn't have gone in to work. Additionally, I've never understood the word fatigue until now. It's like trying to crawl out of quicksand when you really would rather just sink. I'm so dizzy it's difficult to stand up -- having a blood pressure reading of 87/44 may have something to do with that.

If I felt like this for any other reason, I'd be curled up on the couch right now. That's a little difficult to swallow. I just have to remember why I'm here, that this is all for that tiny life (whose heartbeat I WILL see next week, damn it).

I love you, baby. I'll crawl through quicksand for the rest of my life if I have to.

Andy is still in a different place from me in the pregnancy process. That seems normal, but I can't help wishing for more enthusiasm. He said he'll be excited when baby gets here, or when the time comes that the pregnancy will be obvious by looking at me. It's all very rational.

I'll just sit over here by myself and stew in my early excitement alone. That is, if I don't vomit or faint first.

From "These are the Days" by Van Morrison. Thank you, God, for my little miracle.

These are the days of the endless summer
These are the days and the time is now
There is no past, there is only future
There's only here, there's only now...

These are the days by the sparkling river
His timely grace and our treasured find
This is the love of the one great magician
Turned the water into wine.

6 weeks alien

According to the widget on the right, this week my baby looks like something out of the Aliens movies. Cool.

I took the time last night to embed videos for all the songs I've been quoting in my posts, so if anyone ever does read this blog, they'll be able to listen if they want.

Some of my daydreams of what life will be like in eight months are a little scary, as they should be. I was getting ready for work this morning in a house that was silent -- just the cats and me wandering around from bathroom to bedroom and back, so quiet. Doing as we please. What will it be like when there is this small, crying person that requires near-constant supervision and assistance with all bodily functions?

What will it be like taking care of a baby as well as two cats? Will I be able to fully train the cats to stay out of the crib? Will the cats be jealous and cause trouble? Will I be so preoccupied with the baby that I neglect the cats entirely?

A song for my little alien -- from "Feeling Good" by Michael Buble.

Birds flying high
You know how I feel
Sun in the sky
You know how I feel
Breeze drifting on by
You know how I feel
It's a new dawn
It's a new day
It's a new life, for me
And I'm feeling... good

5w 6d song

Will I ever stop being afraid? The image is burned in my mind -- crouching on the bathroom floor saying over and over again, "Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me." Will the day come that I'll be crying, "Don't do this to me again."? Being back on that floor is my greatest fear.

Will God let you come this far just to take you away? I'll never stop wondering how much time we have left together, never take for granted the gift you are.

I cried listening to this Billie Holiday song, "The Very Thought of You." My dear baby, you're in everything I see and everything I do. I feel you growing inside me, and when I think of you I'm floating. Together we are simple, warm, lovely. Like a smile.

This is our song.

The very thought of you
And I forget to do
Those little ordinary things
That everyone ought to do

I'm living in a kind of daydream
I'm happy as a queen
And foolish though it may seem
To me, that's everything

The mere idea of you
The longing here for you
You'll never know
How slow the moments go
'Til I'm near to you

I see your face in every flower
Your eyes in stars above
It's just the thought of you
The very thought of you, my love