JANUARY 27, 2007

Quickly, and to the point, before I puke.

When it comes to making entries I usually write in the early evening which, coincidently, is when my pregnancy symptoms are at their worst and that's why I've been struggling with writing on a regular basis. Suffice it to say it's difficult to get much of anything done when you feel like you have the world's worst case of the flu but, at the same time, not writing makes me cranky so I'm trying to soldier on and do it anyway, regardless of how I feel. Of course, one way to get around pregnancy symptoms interrupting my writing would be to write earlier in the day but, since the window of time in which I feel well enough to get anything done is very short, I haven't changed my schedule since I use the earlier part of the day to get essential things done, like the laundry. Not that I prefer laundry to writing but Ross and I have this strange fetish for wearing clean underwear so, for the time being, I have to use the short periods of time when I'm not passed out asleep or fighting nausea to get the pesky chores of living done. Hopefully this situation will change soon but, until then, what gets posted here may be short and/or incoherent.

As of right now I am still pregnant but, based on the dire discovery last week that the yolk sac is too big and the fact that my pregnancy symptoms have been weakening, it's likely that I won't be pregnant much longer. I did some research online and, from what I can tell, a yolk sac that is too big almost always results in losing the pregnancy and my weakening pregnancy symptoms suggest that the level of pregnancy hormones are decreasing so, based on those less than stellar facts, we're pretty much assuming that this pregnancy won't make it and we're bracing ourselves for the worst. Granted, there are some cases where women do go on to have healthy pregnancies despite large yolk sacs, so there is a chance this still could turn out ok, but we know the odds are greatly against that and I'd rather be pragmatic and prepare for what is most likely than irrationally pin my hopes on near impossible odds and get my heart yanked out even more as a result. Hoping for the best but preparing for the worst, that's pretty much the way we're living and, damn, is it ever a tough way to live.

I'm scheduled for another ultrasound January 31st so that's when we'll likely find out what's going to happen. If the fetus is still alive and developing, they'll measure it and record its vital stats and then schedule me for another ultrasound in a week. If the fetus has stopped developing properly or has flat out died, well, that will obviously be the end. If that's the case, I'll have the choice of either triggering a miscarriage with medication - which can take several days or longer to work - or of having the doctor go in and remove it, and I've already decided on the later because I don't want it to be a long, drawn out process. For now, though, we have to go through the long, excruciating process of waiting to find out what's going to happen and living with that immense unknown has my poor little psyche on the verge of snapping. Suffice it to say that eking through the days wondering if you have a dead or dying fetus inside you can really do a number on your sanity.

So that's where things stand right now and life is unbearable because of it. Trying to occupy my mind and time and get through the days is rough, especially when I'm also sick, but I am taking solace in the fact that I have an appointment with a psychiatrist who specializes in this type of thing and I'm hoping that will help me through. If the pregnancy continues, the psychiatrist can help me with the pregnancy depression that has been coursing through my veins like the black plague of mood disorders and if the pregnancy ends, the shrink can help me deal with that and also help me come up with a plan to deal with pregnancy depression should I ever decide to get pregnant again.

For now, though, I'm off to graze on one of the only things my stomach can tolerate these days - triscuits and cheese. It may not be gourmet or the breakfast of champions, but at least I can keep it down. Although something tells me nabisco isn't about to adopt "doesn't make you puke" as the new catch phrase for triscuits. Eh, their loss.

listening: depeche mode . reading: --

walk: 0 minutes . weight lost: 12 pounds

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