Crack Whores and Roller Coasters

I have heard (and read…mainly read) so many laments of how perfectly good, healthy, sane, stable and loving people can’t get pregnant, but crack whores can.

It’s bizarre how this process makes you look at some people of undeserving of fertility. But understandable: Women dealing with infertility issues are usually the most health conscious people I know. They deserve to be pregnant. Many stop drinking and smoking and drinking caffeine altogether. They watch what they eat. They see therapists and acupuncturists and doctors. They try to get exercise or do yoga or go for long walks. They read and research infertility enough to be able to open their own clinics or, at the very least, field difficult questions. They drink special teas and eat special foods and take special vitamins. They visualize and meditate and pray and vent in journals and blogs. They believe in karma. Thy support other women in the same boat with compassion and kindness, offering support, love and friendship in abundance over the Internet without judgment. They weather relationship storms and trials unlike any other. And they are strong, withstanding the inane questions from others who want to know if they are pregnant yet or watching everyone around them get pregnant and deliver healthy babies. Infertility wasn’t exactly a club I wanted a membership in, but I must say I am proud to be in the ranks of people like this.

Yet since I am pregnant I guess I belong among the ranks of pregnant people. But I don’t relate. I still find more in common with the TTC people, much more so than with the pregnant women. It’s weird. At just over 11 weeks, I still feel like this isn’t happening. I still don’t feel pregnant. My stomach seems larger, but I feel certain that is because I am eating more than I should (after all, last night’s ice cream with caramel and sprinkles and chocolate chips needs to settle somewhere on my body). I still can’t bring myself to read pregnancy books or browse the aisles at Buy Buy Baby or sign up for the dreaded “This Week” emails that detail what is developing in the baby this week in utero. And here I am, almost at the end of my first trimester. I haven’t really enjoyed one day of this so-called special time. It’s hard to, when you are constantly looking over your shoulder.

The roller coaster is another familiar refrain in the infertility world. I too used to view this journey as a roller coaster. But a recent casual conversation with Nicole about Disneyland made me realize that infertility is nothing like roller coasters, really. On a roller coaster, you can see what’s coming up. You can see the big drops, and armed with this knowledge, you can steel yourself for the plunge (a little, at least). Most importantly, you see the end coming ont he horizon. But in reality, with infertility you have no idea what is around the corner. Drops come randomly. Sharp turns come without warning. The good and bad are mixed up in such a manic way. You have no idea when the madness is going to end. Infertility is more like Space Mountain. You are in the dark and have no idea what is going to happen. And you are so grateful when it is over.

Today I have my first OB/GYN appointment and I am scared to death. I can barely concentrate. I haven’t had a sonogram in two and a half weeks, which is quite a while when you are accustomed to weekly check-ins. I’m not supposed to get a sonogram today, but I will refuse to leave until I am wanded. I am convinced the babies are dead. In fact, I had a dream last time about it. Was it a premonition? Instinct? Or just worry? The appointment isn’t until 12:45, but I plan to get there a full hour early just in case there is a chance I can get in. I'd rather wait an hour in a waiting room than sitting home fretting.

There has to be a lesson here. Does the pregnant crack whore worry and fret? Or does she just sail through pregnancy with confidence and security (and denial, in the face of daily drug use), and little to no prenatal care. What does one have to do to achieve an even disposition for pregnancy? Worry, after all, gets me nowhere; that much I know. But that isn’t stopping me from worrying.

Nicole left a note on my orange juice this morning, telling me to say hi to the babies when I saw them today. Such optimism. It made me happy. I wish I had her indefatigable spirit when it comes to the health of these babies. Maybe she should have been the one to carry these babies. I bet she wouldn't even insist on a sonogram today if it were her.

Four more hours till I see if my worry was warranted or not.....