*) And so am I!
I am typing this after wiping my own barf from my husband’s bathroom sink.
[Aside: we have separate bathrooms to keep us together. This was a sound advice from Meryl Streep whose Hollywood marriage lasts for more than 40 years.]
It would have been two seconds too late to throw up in the toilet bowl. And after I saw the damage all over my neat-freak husband’s sink, I panicked. I then scraped my half-digested pizza/leftover breakfast out from the sink and into the trash bin. It was my new personal low as far as vomiting goes. Because: 1) I was not hung over after a night of partying⎯something a girl in her twenties would feasibly do⎯and 2) I’m pregnant and I had pizza for breakfast!
Yeah, even my stomach was like: “What the hell are you trying to feed your growing baby? You should be ashamed of yourself, woman!”
Seriously, it wasn’t even morning sickness. I am in my second trimester, for crying out loud. I was just being irresponsible and my body put my mind to shame. While others glow in the second trimester, I’m just making it an extension to my first trimester, which sucked.
I should probably tell you that this pregnancy was, in a way, an accident. Due to my business travel schedule and wish to have an extended honeymoon period, Matthew and I planned to wait till December ’12 to even try. But a bad reaction to birth control pill put me off it. And like dumb love struck teenagers, we didn’t use any form of protection or preventative measures. Within a week after being off birth control, we conceived. Of course.
(Let this be a warning to you dummies who think that you can’t get pregnant if you only have unprotected sex once. Quick biology lesson: one time is all it takes.)
And I knew we conceived before the next page of the calendar. All I was feeling those weeks was best summed as: not well.
These are things I experienced weeks before the stick finally turns blue.
1. I couldn’t sleep well.
2. All I wanted and could do was curl up in the sofa.
3. I wanted to eat but couldn’t really enjoy it.
4. I only had the energy of an 80-year-old grandmother.
5. I could only run for 15 minutes before feeling like I’ve just finished a marathon.
6. My stomach was a bit plump, hard and tight.
7. My breasts hurt.
8. I need to pee all the time.
9. I need to sleep all the time.
10. I wept at the slightest touching scene on television.
But no, four home pregnancy tests said I wasn’t pregnant.
Matthew insisted that I was just having an epic PMS due to coming off birth control pill mid-cycle. It makes sense. Some research does say that I could have been experiencing that. But I refused to believe it despite an ultrasound that said my uterus line was thickened but there’s nothing else there.
Matthew and I got our blood tested. Mine: to detect the smallest trace of human chorionic gonadotropin, if there is any. His: to check his blood type and group to determine whether or not there’s a possibility of conceiving a baby with negative rhesus blood group since I am a B+.
[Aside: Matthew’s lack of knowledge in his own blood is so inconsistent with the fact that he’s a hypochondriac. Oh, and his parents also forgot his blood type.]
The result: Matthew is an A+ and I had 2.56 hCG, which is half the amount for a woman to be considered pregnant. My doctor said that I did conceive but the pregnancy may not “take” so I should expect a natural miscarriage in form of heavy period within the week.
I thought, at least I was right: we did conceive. But, I didn’t want to lose this pregnancy, especially as I had all the symptoms! I didn’t want to suffer for nothing. Yes, I’m a selfish bitch.
Two weeks later, still no period or bleeding, I was scheduled to fly. Matthew insisted I should retry peeing on the stick. It was a faint positive! Wow! Then I wanted to make sure that I was not endangering my baby and inconvenience fellow passengers, so I got another ultrasound.
The doctor saw the prominent gestational sac and that I was healthy and strong. He explained that we had what’s called a delayed conception. My ovulation day was postponed by a week due to the whole birth control saga.
He said, “Congratulations on the success of your first try. Here’s your flying permit.”
Yep. Have bump. Will travel.