When I took the pregnancy test, the positive line was faint. It worried me, slightly, but I was too excited to think about it. While in California last week, my anxiety kicked in. I became weepy, angry, depressed, and frustrated with everything around me. My husband was confused by my sudden alteration and finally confronted me. In the quiet and safe place of the guest room, I unloaded all my worries.
What if I'm not pregnant?
You took a test, it was positive.
But what if it was wrong? What if I had a miscarriage early on?
I think that is pretty rare, but we could go buy another pregnancy test if you'd like.
No, I'd have to take it in the morning (don't ask) and we don't have time. If I am pregnant, why don't I feel sick yet?
You're not that far along. Be patient.
Yes, but, but, but, but.....
And the list continued on and on. If I had been thinking clearly, I would have recognized my anxiety and severe mood swings as sure indicators I am pregnant. Thankfully my husband did not mention that.
My pregnancies follow a simple order. Five weeks: nausea. Six weeks: excessive vomiting. Seven-fourteen weeks: IV therapy. Fourteen until the end: continued nausea and/or vomiting but no IV therapy. Thus, not feeling sick immediately reminds me of my miscarriage, when the symptoms did not arise and I knew something was wrong.
We returned from our trip and almost immediately the nausea set in. It wasn't overpowering, at first, but enough to make me smile. I would feel the urge to vomit and happily tell my husband. I think he thought I was losing it.
I am sitting now, in front of the computer, closing my eyes against the nausea, willing my stomach to keep my dinner down, and smiling. Because to me, sickness means a healthy pregnancy and I really want to meet this baby.
My Beautiful Children
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