But this trip was very difficult. Before the trip even began, I started spotting the night before. Very little, very dark brown, but remember, I'm the girl who literally checks, holds her breathe, with every.single.wipe. Until birth. That night before we left, it took several hours for my amazing husband to calm my anxious heart and quite frankly, Jesus received more ejaculatory prayers from me than He has probably received in all my life.... "please, Jesus, Not this, Jesus, Oh Jesus..." If you've never just sat and said His name over and over and over again, it does have a rather calming affect. But my shaking was out of control- and my hubs was worried about me. We wound up going, although, I'm fairly certain I should have stayed home, and I only had a few more episodes of spotting. It was enough to make my depression go even deeper and my heart sink even farther down in this spiral of crazy chaos known as my life. I was probably not the best person to be around this past week, which is probably why most of my husband's family either avoided me, or just didn't bother with me. I can't explain why I have been in such a funk, other than, the fact that my hormones have been on a raging racetrack ever since I realized I was pregnant.
Don't get me wrong- I am madly, deeply, and passionately in love with this baby- hence why I felt I would nearly die when I realized I was spotting- but it was a difficult acceptance to see that God's plan is not my plan, and I struggled with that ugly green monster terribly. I dreaded the reactions of people. I dreaded the fact that once again, it would take two years to get my body back. I dreaded the fact that now more than ever, we need to move back south in order to afford to continue to live-considering my husband is literally kicked out of his job when this child is 11. I forced myself to think about and pile on tons of unnecessary guilt. I prayed, talked through it, and worked out my issues- depression is something that clearly runs in my family. I struggled with it after my first miscarriage- (that's when I realized medication can be good and it can be bad)and I developed excellent coping strategies when I felt depression coming on. My husband can also tell when depression is coming on. I have noticed up here, where the winter lasts a tad longer, that it's a bit more difficult to sometimes shake it, but I have adjusted.
So it was not altogether the worst week for me, but it also was not the best week for me. I am feeling that I'm almost to the end of the all day, all the time nausea- each day came with a slightly better feeling and now that I'm officially over 13 weeks, I think I can safely say, I feel "better" in that area.
I realized though that despite my best effort to remain compression stocking free- I probably should have brought them because new and exciting purple and pink earth worms and road map lines emerged from my right leg. It now looks as though I've had a slight run in with a giant purple, blue, oh and pinkish red marker. My 5 year old is even impressed with the drawings.... (so easy to please her...)
So yesterday after spending eternity in the car I donned on the sessy beasts and set to unpack. Now, before the stockings, I could not stand for very long without my right leg throbbing constantly and feeling as though the blood was going to burst out of three places- all around my knee cap and my inner thigh, but with the tights, I can stand probably longer than I am, but definitely long enough to accomplish ONE task! Which is monumental. I had gotten to where I couldn't do a thing without sitting every few minutes. My blood pressure was also extremely low- which it's low to begin with, but I'm talking 87/52 at one point, I felt as though I had run a marathon walking from the chair to the couch. Next door to each other. I was feeling nauseous, and then to boot, those hemorrhoids? God help me!!!
But through this I have rediscovered my sense of humor. I was seriously feeling very depressed and therefore, my humor had left the building and my humor (at least to me) helps me cope tremendously.
Today, I have decided to write a book. It will be co-authored with another friend who is pregnant with her 9th child at 45 and I (who at a "young whipper snapper of an age at only 41!!!). It will be a book about the musings of pregnancy after 40. I tossed around some titles I thought would be catchy- "Pregnancy during Advanced Maternal Age- you may feel you're falling apart- but you're not alone."
Or- "Pregnant and 40 something? We promise, what won't kill you, will only make you crazy...."
I have also discussed multiple chapters including an exclusive one with details in regards to hemorrhoids. People need a realistic viewpoint of this. Did you know that there is virtually ZERO medication you can use on hemorhoids when pregnant? And those little medicated pads? They are about as worthless as tits on a boar. (sorry, that is from my husband...) Women need to know this! They also need to know they are NOT ALONE in this crazy anti-pregnant over 40 world!!!
So back to my book before the squirrels that are walking around in my head take over-
One chapter will be about our bladders. yes, a whole chapter titled, "Depends Undergarments is NOT an admittance of defeat!" Not that in seven pregnancies I've ever used them, but the thought has occurred to me as each one of the six so far has weighed over 8 pounds and three were almost 9 pounds, so you can imagine the shape my bladder is currently in....
Another one will be about the antics of our aging spouses. My funny, funny, husband, who seriously does understand the problems I've been having and always says things in jest *wink wink* likes to occasionally ask as I'm reclined on the sofa or in his favorite chair if he can get me anything- grapes, a massage, etc. etc. Funny guy he is, but sometimes I sense sarcasm.... Perhaps, it will be titled, "When your silly man tries to make joke...." Or, "Relax, he's not the only who needs a man cave to retreat to during this hormonal time...."
So that's where I am now. Mentally I'm feeling my head is coming out of the clouds and onto more greener pastures, and emotionally I'm recovering from feeling very alone, very depressed and very blah. I see that God gives me hope, even when I refuse to see it and want to bask in my own self pity- I see how He has wanted me to return to my silly sense of humor because quite frankly, since coming up with this geriatric pregnancy book idea, I've felt incredibly better.
Almost human again- and then I look at my legs and well...
Not everyone can look this good in compression stockings and shorts and still keep a straight face.