I’m So Excited! … I’m So SCARED

I have some news…

That’s always how these things start. They’re usually followed by uterus photos (if the “news” is delivered by text) or high-pitched squealing from the receiver (if the “news” is delivered in person).

It’s true, I am pregnant. Notice, I didn’t use an exclamation mark. That’s because I’m not exclaiming it, I’m not necessarily excited either. When Chris and I started sharing the news, we mostly said we were “cautiously optimistic,” because my main doctor said exactly that, she’s “optimistic.” But if we’re being completely honest, “cautious” is operating a hell of a lot stronger than “optimistic.”

When Chris and I decided we were going to attempt to have a living baby, I tried hard to prepare and pump myself up. I talked to all of my therapists about how I wanted to be excited. I wanted to be less nervous this time. I wanted to “cherish every moment.” I wanted to be grateful for every day I had with my new baby. I thought I could think these things into being. I thought I could just erase a year + of trauma. It’s not that easy. I haven’t gotten there yet. I’m trying, but I’m failing.

I was explaining recently to my one remaining therapist (other-therapist-breakup-story coming later) how I felt like such a failure not being able to get excited. I’m in this infertility/loss community now where I know many women would be so grateful and excited to be in the spot I am in, but all I can do is be scared. My remaining therapist said, “maybe being ‘excited’ is too much to ask of yourself.”

Right now, it’s true, excitement is too much to ask. My real feelings are: I’m scared, I’m anxious, I’m worried, and I’m nervous. If you didn’t catch the reference in the blog title, it’s from Jessie Spano’s popular caffeine-pill-induced breakdown on Saved by the Bell from November 3, 1990.

While I have consumed zero caffeine pills, I definitely feel the same. I can tell myself a million times that I’m excited, but right now, I’m really just scared. I am also happy. For now. Every time I say I’m happy, I get the nagging feeling like someone is tapping on the back of my brain, and saying, “but for how long?”

At one of my doctor’s appointments, Chris was out of town and couldn’t come. I knew myself, though, and I needed a chaperone, so I brought a friend. As I casually had a borderline panic attack in the waiting room and my Fitbit logged 33 “activity zone minutes,” my friend tried to distract me. When we went into the exam room, and everything looked great with the baby, I was crying, as usual. The doctors said, “it’s ok, everything looks great!” I couldn’t speak because of the tears and the snot and such. My friend said, “it’s just… she’s been here before.” She took the words right out of my mute mouth.

In recounting this story to my therapist (can you tell we talk a lot?), I said, “sure they say everything looks great… for now!! Meanwhile I was just thinking, ‘yea well everything looked fine last time… until it didn’t. So, when is sh*t going to hit the fan this time around?’”

She reminded me about dialectical thinking, which I struggle to use as a default, but I’m trying to train myself to think more consciously about it. I try to shift my thoughts from “yeah but…” to “yes and.” Instead of, “yea everything looks great now, BUT when won’t it?” I try to make a minor shift to “everything looks great now AND someday it might not. For now, though, it does look good.” The minor shift from “but” to “and” helps me think a little less negatively. Yes, things may go south. AND for now, they are looking good.

There have already been many comedies of errors. First, a 2.5 hour wait at the doctor that led to me almost missing a flight. Then, a pharmacy called to say they didn’t carry my meds and hung up on me. Then, there was a lab error on one of my blood tests which led me to believe I was heading into liver failure AGAIN. Then, the lab where they sent the replacement test lost the vial of my blood. Then, I had an ultrasound where they couldn’t see anything and I thought the baby was gone, but eventually with an internal ultrasound everything looked completely fine. It’s been a roller coaster and I’m barely in the second trimester.* After the initial lab error, I said to Chris, “I had tricked myself into thinking that I deserved a pregnancy that was smooth sailing, but I guess that was too much to ask.” He agreed, we were not likely to have an uneventful time.

When I broke my pregnancy news to a friend recently, she asked me when I was due and I wasn’t even sure. My doctor has never mentioned my due date to me, I had to look in my chart to find it. Thinking to the future to a full-term baby, that’s way too far away. “Full term” is not the goal. “As far as I can get,” is the goal. “Staying alive” is the goal. “A living baby” is the goal. I remember last pregnancy, I hoped I wouldn’t share a birthday week with my baby. This time around, I just hope our baby gets a birth day that isn’t the same week as a death day. To say my expectations are different with my second pregnancy is a gross understatement.

The best thing people have said to me when I share the news is just, “congratulations,” because then I can simply say, “thank you.” Some people have asked me how I am feeling, which is a very difficult question to answer. Physically, pretty good. But mentally? I’m a wreck. I’d need a novel (or a blog) to explain that, so I usually just say, “so far so good,” which is definitely a lie. According to the notes in my chart from my doctor, I have “significant anxiety.” I wonder why…

Despite my millions of doctor appointments and the ever-present sharps container on the table and ultrasound photos on the fridge, it’s still difficult to believe. Will I get what I want? Do I deserve it? Does anyone NOT deserve it? Who even am I to get what I want? These are all existential questions and I have no answers.  

I am taking things one day at a time. Sometimes I’m at the hospital three times in a week. But everything will be worth it if it is worth it. And I can’t tell the future, so I will just operate in the present. Feel free to extend your congratulations, but don’t ask me how I feel, because I honestly don’t know and it will probably be different tomorrow.

* Writer’s Note: I wrote this blog when I was heading into my 2nd trimester. Despite what I thought I would do, mentally I couldn’t bring myself to share about this new pregnancy until I made it through Maliyah’s first birthday. I’ve pre-written many, many blogs about this pregnancy as I felt the urge to get my thoughts on “paper,” and I will be sharing them in the coming weeks, even if the language and my thoughts no longer align with the timing completely. Therefore, at the end of each blog, I will share the gestational age of baby #2 when I wrote the post.

(Written at: 11 weeks, 6 days)