I went a bundle of nerves, and when the nurse asked me to pee in the cup so she could dip the stick, I had the thought, “Oh my, what if she tells me I’m not pregnant? How embarrassing would that be?”

I still am. Since the paralyzing morning sickness wasn’t enough to convince me.

Once in the room, I met a midwife in training who was so sweet and told me all about what she did, what my midwife did, how much she loved being there, how much she loved the hospital we are going to be in. She explained how they have tubs, birthing balls, a birthing bar (not to be confused with tequila shots while in labor – an actual bar for gripping), and are there to let the mom have whatever birth she wants while encouraging as little medical intervention as possible.

In short? I died of happiness. I can have a judgmental free epi if it gets down to it again, but I can also try for a pressure free natural birth.

And no one will care either way. 

Then she took my history with Bella, who was in the room with Sam. I told her about charting and having 25 days till I ovulated both this and last time, hyperemesis, 90% effacement at 31 weeks, 6 weeks of bedrest, preterm labor 3 times, and an old placenta when Bella was born at 37.

And you know what she did? She looked at me with concerned eyes, wrote it all down, and said, “So tell me more about this, let’s get this all figured out so we can set up a great plan to monitor it all the next 7 months.” And I heard her tell it all to my midwife, who came in and wanted to know more. Wanted to talk. Wanted to share her knowledge and tell me that while they would push for 40 weeks, the chances of it were slim – which no one had ever said. I was glad to know this. That they would prescribe Zofran and then watch to see how long the hyperemesis lasted this time. That she wanted to see me in 2 weeks instead of 4, and they would do a dating ultrasound on me so everyone was on the same page. That they wanted a detailed-as-it-gets birth plan around 6 months so they could make sure I got everything I could and wanted, and they’d help to make this pregnancy the best it could be.

No one rolled their eyes. No one cut me off. There was no time limit or acting like I was being dramatic.

I held back tears as I watched their faces reflect empathy and true concern for what I had dealt with. They made the fears that so many others had brushed off or said, “Luck of the draw,” real to me. To everyone. I had a right to be worried this time, and they were going to make sure I was taken care of.

Then we got to hear the heartbeat. Knowing I’m only about 6 weeks 5 days, I thought we might not and wasn’t going to worry about it. But both of the midwives heard it, ever so faint and fleeting but we all got a good listen for just a few seconds each time. The little whoosh, the reason that being so sick is all worth it again. Sam and I grinned at each other from across the room.

We tried to get Bella to listen but she was too busy freaking out at why Mama was in a pink crunchy gown with people poking me on a table.

I left with all of them excited to work with us. I have an ultrasound in 2 1/2 weeks, an appointment in 2.

I’m so glad I switched. So very glad I didn’t stay with the first Dr we saw here who never asked me one thing about myself – and shrugged when I told her what had happened last time. I feel so comfortable and accepted at this place. I know this is going to be a wonderful pregnancy.

It’s pretty amazing what taking a few minutes to listen to someone can do for them.

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Yesterday morning was a disaster.

Last night just Bella and I went to dinner as Sam had 24 hour duty. I cried on the way home thinking of how pretty soon these times would be few and far between. Even though wonderful times are coming. Ah hormones.

This morning I woke up at 4am to calm a terrified Bella and almost hurled on her bed. I took a half of a Zofran (safe for pregnancy, did it 7 months with Bella, hoarded them like crack) and laid in bed in terror, waiting to be sick. Once I start to throw up I can’t stop and no one was home to help me.

Right now I’m eating a bowl of cereal for the first time in 2 weeks without gagging. Bella is still asleep. Birds are chirping. There is sunshine. Somewhere there is a person who invented Zofran waiting to be hugged.

This afternoon we have our first midwife appt – I actually get to meet her. I’m super nervous and excited. Also, asking for her thoughts on giving me a prescription for Zofran – because I honestly can’t do this without it. I have just been such a train wreck. It gets worse every day.

I’ll let you all know how it goes. Also hoping for a dating u/s as I had such a crazy cycle and didn’t OV till 25 days in. Which really changes my due date vs a doctors due date. I’m bringing in my chart to help with this.

And just hoping for a u/s so I can get a peek at the tiny one making me want to vomit 24-7. Because really, nothing makes it more worth it than to see a little heartbeat on that screen.

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And I? Am stumped.

Not so much as why – but how to explain it to her. I want to tell her to hold while I type out a post or pull up an old one and then have her read it.

As I stumble my way through talking about it, I begin to realize we are on different pages. More so than she and I thought previously. Not bad ones. Not better ones. Just different.

This is one of the first times I’ve started to see how much of a bubble blogging can put you in.

I started this blog and found a community of women that tend to have the same ideals, values, thoughts, and lifestyles as me. Even when we disagree, or we do things different, they know enough of my history and I theirs to have a mutual understanding of the hows and whys in our decisions.

Real life? Face to face? New moms? Not so much.

At times, it still startles me to run into a mom who, no matter what I say, isn’t going to see my side of things. Because on here? Those people usually read and click off. I never even knew they found me.

So sometimes transferring the community I’ve found to voice my opinion and really find my niche can turn into me being very vocal on topics some people have no knowledge on or don’t want to talk about. I forget not everyone “gets” homeschooling or cloth diapering or being an Army wife. Or vice versa – I don’t understand why someone wouldn’t want to hear about how my husband is a recovering alcoholic, we nearly lost our home 3 years ago, and I had a rough pregnancy. I dive into details that make some people uncomfortable.

There is a fine line in all this. I’m proud that blogging has changed my voice from unsure to stable and strong these past two years, because I know there are women out there who deal with things I’m dealing with. But it’s crucial for me to remember that this tends to be a bubble, and if I believe in something, there are people who will ask why and how or just plain disagree with me. And I’ll have to give them an answer in that moment. One that needs to be carefully weighed with how we know each other.

However, in the case of the snobby millionaire moms at my last playgroup, nothing pleased me more than to inform them all that we were poor, renting, didn’t have a nanny, no housekeeper in sight, and haven’t taken a vacation in years. The look on their horrified faces as it sank in that they had actually spoken to me at one point (and let their child *gasp* play with mine) was worth spilling my guts, then never going back.

And I can thank this blog and it’s bubble for the balls to pull that one off.

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Sam was home this weekend so he was able to take care of everything, but it was still hard. Hard not to be able to play with Bella, hard to lay on the couch hour after hour and wish I could do something. Even when we did get out for fresh air to the park I spent most of the time sitting and trying not to be sick.

And it’s just massive headaches, stomach aches, and constant nausea. But the kind that puts you flat on your back. 

Because it’s slowly getting worse, I started to worry. What if the hyperermesis I had with Bella comes back? What will I do with her from 7am-6pm 5 days a week (sometimes 6)? How much TV can we watch before we both explode? How will I get anything done? We have no food, I can’t cook, the house and laundry need to be done (very badly).

So yesterday, laying on the couch and trying not to move and be very still, Bella tugging at my arm and asking me yet again to play – I lost it. I started to cry, the guilt of it all washing over me as I realized just how much this could impact my little girl. I didn’t want it to. I think part of me had forgotten just what a mess I was last time – physically. I know it’s not going to hurt her to watch a few days of TV, but if I started to throw up again and be as sick as I was – we’re talking months of this. MONTHS.

I spent the day trying to do anything I could to entertain her for a while. Trying to get myself to feel better.

Last night as Sam and I knelt over her in her little bed to pray, I squeezed her hands in mine and said ever so fervently, “Dear Jesus, oh please, don’t let me be this sick again. For Bella, for Sam, for me, please just let this time be a little easier on everyone.”

This morning I woke up and tried something that had never, ever worked while being pregnant with Bella. I ate Saltines before I got out of bed. Sipped water.

And while I was queasy, once it hit me it was almost gone. I ate breakfast without gagging. Played with Bella and read her books. I can feel it – it’s there as a reminder, but it hasn’t taken over.

With Bella, it simply got worse every day. Until by 7 weeks I was so sick they did a u/s on me for twins. It never let up. Never went away. Not for a day, an hour, nothing. I just got to the point where I was on meds and knew I would throw up several times a day my entire pregnancy.

So this? Today? This is a small miracle. It truly is. I will grocery shop this afternoon. I will clean my house. I will play with my child and I will rejoice in the fact that I had today to do it all.

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 Yes, that’s shaving cream. Adds a whole other textured element to it.

 But then of course, one she starts she can’t be stopped. Heaven help the mother who tries.

 In fact, why bother with paper at all? Let’s just use the table and go for it.

 Or eat it. That’s cool too.

 Quite the mess.

Thank goodness she’s adorable. Makes cleaning it up all worth it.

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