Here Comes The Krazee!

TeaI’m so glad you all know! Now, brace yourself…I’m about to unload a month’s worth of anxiety onto you…(WARNING: The post crosses way over the land of TMI. Feel free to turn back now.)

I’ve not been sleeping for shit. Even though I’m freakin’ exhausted. I stay awake every night thinking about bleeding, and miscarriages, and symptoms coming and going and – basically? I’m a mess.

I’ve never gotten morning sicknesses with pregnancies. I had some nausea with E, but never puked. All of the other pregnancies since – Nada. Not one wave of queasiness. And while many of you hate me for that – it’s one of those symptoms I would love to hold on to for reassurance. BUT I CAN’T.

I had really sore boobs for a few days and then – BAM – it just stopped. WHY DID IT STOP? It’s not supposed to stop until the end of the first trimester. WHERE DID MY SORE BOOBS GO? The worst part? I’m constantly grabbing my boobs to double check. It’s become so subconscious…I don’t realize I’m doing it anymore until it’s too late. Do you how embarrassing that is? To suddenly realized you just fondled yourself in the middle of the cereal aisle in the store? IT MAKES YOU FEEL LIKE YOU ARE LOSING YOUR MIND.

In case you’re wondering.

So, basically, I’m a huge mess. And of course – I’m overeating to cope. And I can’t even balance it out with exercise, another stress reliever, because I can’t run or lift anything heavier than a gallon of milk. So, I’ve gained 7lbs in the last month. This would be fine if I knew for sure I’d stay pregnant because it would just blend in with the other weight gain but all I keep thinking is – What if I’ve gained all this weight and then I miscarry? I mean – then I just become the overweight girl who likes to grab her own boobs randomly while looking like a zombie because she hasn’t slept in months.


And let’s don’t even get started about the constant toilet-paper checking. Now that the bleeding has stopped I feel cautiously optimistic. But…BUT…that’s happened before. The pregnancy before Wes I had bleeding, went to the doctor and got an ultrasound, saw a heartbeat, was insulted by the jackass doctor who thought I was overreacting, and then a few days later I lost the baby in my bathroom in the middle of the night. That was – by far – my most traumatizing miscarriage I think. And it all started with more blood on the toilet paper. So, of course, I’m frantically checking every time I go to the bathroom. And I say a little mantra, please…no blood…please…no blood. Another one of the MANY things right now making me feel LIKE A COMPLETE NUTCASE.

So…that’s what you’ve been missing. Aren’t you glad I filled you in on everything so that you could be privy to this inspirational content you’d be otherwise missing?

I Really Need You.

One month ago I took a home pregnancy test that turned up positive. I couldn’t talk about it here because – different since the last time I was pregnant – a lot of regular, real world people read my blog and I didn’t want to have to worry when/if we miscarried about spreading the bad news. My real world peer group is not as privy to my tendency to spontaneously miscarry as you guys are. Only because I stopped introducing myself as, “Kim…the girl with the shitty uterus.”

The next four weeks KILLED ME. I wanted to tell you guys so bad. I wanted to celebrate my good blood work and commiserate about the phantom cramps. I wanted to brag on myself for running 20 miles while pregnant, I wanted to cry when I was scared of another miscarriage. I HATED NOT HAVING YOU GUYS THERE WITH ME like the other times. I told Donnie at least 20 times in those four weeks, “Not being able to blog about this is KILLING ME.”

Then, Sunday, I started bleeding bright, red blood. We had a house full of company for family dinner and I hid in the bedroom crying and asking Twitter for mysterious support.

The bleeding subsided. I had an ultrasound today and I saw the heartbeat! Unfortunately – there’s also evidence of another subchorionic hematoma. Which I had with Nikki, if you’ll remember correctly. The doctor feels like things look good…everything looks sealed up and healing…and my bleeding has stopped. BUT…we are still only cautiously optimistic.

I’m back on progesterone and I’m off running for a week. I’m telling you guys now because I can’t go through this without blogging my stress. I really thought the ultrasound would show a dead fetus, so the heartbeat made me bawl my eyes out. The technician was like, “You’re not out of the woods yet…” “I know,” I said, “but just seeing that heartbeat…it gives me hope.” But, I’m still terrified and still over-analyzing ever tiny phantom cramp I’m having. I’m overeating to cope with stress because I can’t have my nightly beer. I’m crying every time Wes pats the head of the baby brother of Nikki’s soccer teammate. I’m begging the universe: Please…Please let this happen for us.

And I can’t do that without my therapist…this blog. So I’m coming clean. I’m pregnant. About 8 weeks. It’s already been a rough ride and we’ve already cried at potential loss. We’re still not telling Nikki and Wes because they don’t understand my medical history. We told E before we told anyone else, almost. If all goes well, I’ll be producing his last musical with a giant belly and I’ll be holding a new baby at his high school graduation. Please keep your fingers crossed for us. We need all of the hope we can get.

My Favorite Pregnancy Article EVAH.

If you’re pregnant, have ever been pregnant, or are possibly partnered to a pregnant woman right now…go read this article be made a better person because of it. Amalah treats the top of S-E-X while pregnant with the same humor she does everything. Some of my favorite parts:

And then there’s the bloody LOGISTICS. Your favorite positions might not work anymore, and trying to find comfortable alternatives can feel a bit like playing Tetris.


(And by “it” I mean O-R-G-A-S-M-S and can you tell that I don’t write about sex that much? I am a delicate little flower. Painted by Georgia O’Keefe. You know. The ones that look like V-A-G-I-N-A-S.)

And the best not-sex-related part? How she figured out how to paint her toenails without her belly getting in the way. BRILLIANT. Who needs a husband when you have STAIRS. You must go read it for yourself.

Trying My Best To Stay CALM.

I remembered while unsuccessfully searching for several of NikkiZ’s birth photos on flickr, that I didn’t use flickr yet when NikkiZ was born. How did I survive without flickr? Who knows. Either way – I thought I’d upload a few more as I think back to the day she was born, looking for some sort of reference for tomorrow. Then I realized that everyone would think they were pictures of AndyZ so I made them “private” until AFTER AndyZ gets here. Then, we can compare the two when we finally post some of her brother. Who will be here TOMORROW. HOLY SHIT.

When I went in for my last cervix check yesterday (Still closed! AndyZ is going to be in for a surprise tomorrow!) Dr. SoNice said, “So…want anything done to your tubes while I’m in there?” I thought about asking for a little sprucing up, add some ribbons or glitter or something. But, since we had considered getting them tied up for awhile, I figured that was probably more of what he was referring to. So I politely declined any modifications and just said, “No thank you.” I mean, it was nice of him to offer.

Today is the last day to get my pre-baby prep done. I dropped our comforter off at the dry-cleaners and ran to the bank yesterday. Today I have to take LilZ to get his haircut and pack NikkiZ to spend 3 nights at her Mimi and Dampaw’s house. I feel the same thing I’ve felt with my other two kids: HOW IN THE HELL AM I READY FOR THIS? And since I don’t think there’s anything I can do to actually get ready, I’m going to busy myself with the mundane. Maybe if I vacuum ONE MORE TIME, then I’ll feel ready to add another kid to my brood. Right? It does work that way…Right?

No? Oh well. Then I guess I’ll just veg out with a bag of chips and the latest issue of Entertainment Weekly. If I can’t prepare, I might as well take advantage of my last few hours of slovenly living before this other human demands to be sustained. Am I right?

Clarity would be nice.

LilZ was born a million years ago when I was a very naive teenager who didn’t realize her memory would fade with the years. In other words? I have very little memory of the birth process itself. I mean – he came out the normal way after 17+ hours of labor – that much I remember. But the details and the feelings? Have kinda faded. Too bad I wasn’t blogging then.

NikkiZ, while more recent, is still just as faded. If not more so. If you were around here during that time, you know I did a series of blog posts (first one here) doing a play-by-play of the induction process. Up until things went horribly awry and I ended up being wheeled into the OR while crying for my husband fearing for our daughter’s life. IT WAS AWESOME. But – the point? I had been up all night (blogging…of course) and then was cut open and operated on and doped up with morphine. It created quite a haze for my daughter to be born into and I remember very little of it. I read the entries and the birth story and think, “Hmm. Funny. I don’t remember that.”

This time? I’m praying I will walk away with a very clear memory of the events leading up to my son’s birth. I plan on sleeping the night before (even if it requires someone bashing me on the head to knock me out) and I plan on documenting everything either digitally or with pen and paper as it goes on. I have been approaching this entire pregnancy as though it is going to be my last. Partly because we have that nasty habit of repeat miscarriages, but also because we’re not positive we are going to have anymore. So, I really want to make sure I have a good record of what happens the day this child is born. I want at least one of my kids to have the gift of their Mom’s sober and clear memory of their birth.

Or maybe I’ll just ask for the morphine early and just sleep through the entire thing.