« Smite makes right | Main | If you meet the Buddha brandishing an ultrasound wand, kill him »


How'm I doing?

I have a hard time talking about how I'm feeling these days, especially since I know that many of my friends would give anything to be in my situation: pregnant and nearing the end of the first trimester. You'd be happy. You'd be hopeful. You'd trust. Wouldn't you?

I'm not, and I don't.

The feelings alone are hard to contend with. What's almost as hard is the knowledge that it reveals a failure to appreciate my own good fortune, an utter lack of grace. Because I want to be liked, I sometimes try to conceal that. But because I want to be honest, I occasionally come clean.

If you can't stand to hear a pregnant woman complain — and, really, who could blame you? — please read no further.

I'm fine. And I'm not.

Physically, I feel great. I have no nausea, no aches or pains, not even a hint of breast tenderness.

Emotionally, I'm a wreck. How can I be 9w3d pregnant, how can everything still be going well, without any of the above? I have no indication that anything bad has happened. Nor do I have any indication that everything is okay.

The situation is complicated by the fact that I had no physical sign that my last pregnancy was ending; I can't simply assume that no news is good news. The situation is complicated further by the fact that my last pregnancy ended sometime between 8w0d and 8w5d. With a promising scan at 8w0d, but nothing since, how can I know it hasn't happened again?

I'm not much fun to be around these days. I don't daydream. I don't think of names, I don't visit "your pregnancy minute by minute" sites, and I don't even slow down when I near the maternity shops in the mall. Instead I'm consumed by morbid thoughts, bitter memories, and contingency plans for the direst of circumstances.

I cannot visualize myself eventually holding a baby.

I don't think there's much that could make me feel better. I could prevail upon my local RE's office for yet another scan. And it might reassure me, but the relief would be short-lived; I've heard too many stories that end, "...and we'd just seen the heartbeat the day before." At any rate, I'm pretty sure any temporary consolation would be outweighed by my embarrassment at having capitulated to my seething neuroses once again. And a girl has her pride, after all.


I don't know when this ends. Once I pass the first trimester? Once I feel movement? Once the baby is born, if it's to happen as I don't quite dare to hope?

It has to end sometime, right?