Today, I’m 13 weeks and 3 days pregnant. It’s been a bumpy ride so far – we had some uncertainty for a while but baby seems to be holding on strong now. Let me start at the beginning…
I took a test on a whim one night, and it was positive, but only very slightly so. I only had the one test at home, so I waited until morning and bought a second test – which was negative. I brought a photo of the first test to my doctor and we had blood tested, which was also negative. I assumed it was a chemical pregnancy or early miscarriage, and moved on with my life. Two weeks later, another positive test. This time, blood tests were positive, and increasing as expected. At that point, it was very real!
We had a dating ultrasound where we got to see the little Peanut, though at 10 weeks it was more of a gummy bear-shaped blob than anything remotely human. A couple weeks later I went in to see the prenatal doctor, and got to hear the heartbeat! I told Mark that I couldn’t believe I could be so enamored with basically the sound of a washing machine.
Things have been a bit rough – I haven’t had a ton of morning sickness beyond nausea and heartburn, but what I’ve had has been brutal. I keep saying I wish I -could- throw up, because then I might get relief for a few minutes. Fatigue has been the worst part – any days I have any free time, I’m either sleeping or preparing for sleep. I’m hoping this will start to calm down as I get into the second trimester, but for now I’m just trying to take it as easy as possible and rest when I need to.
I’m being a bit selective about who I tell and who I don’t, which is a bit odd given that I’m posting about it here. It’s not so much that I care who knows, but I care who tells the news. It’s an odd, complicated sort of thought, but I want this story to be mine and Mark’s, not everyone else’s. This is a good place to get my thoughts out without judgment or (to be honest) much chance of anyone reading it!