Without a doubt one of Mother Nature's cruelest yet most exciting moments in time. My hopes, dreams, AND fears have all been amplified. My body has been put under a very unforgiving microscope. My mood swings have taken on epic proportions leaving me seriously considering being committed. I've cast aside a couple of strong values, changed my perspective and back again, and have cried a ridiculous amount of tears while laughing my head off. I was eventually just able to say 'F*** It' and move on. It took two weeks.
In the beginning it was exciting to dream about the possibilities. To imagine what was taking place moment by moment, day by day, and thanks to the Internet, I had pictures to go with those possibilities.
We had so much fun going back and forth on our top baby names for boys and girls. We reminisced about what life is really like with a newborn in the house. We delighted ourselves with the notion of Sophie being a big sister and how that would affect her future.
Of course with all of that excitement came fear, mostly of the unknown. Fears of potentially declining health, based on an incredibly difficult first pregnancy. Fears of life threatening complications mixed with the reassurance that it's out of my control and we have hired fantastic doctors with which to entrust our confidence.
Fears of a rocky financial situation as incredible expenses are sure to come with the addition to the family. Fears of providing a life better than we ourselves have had in order to promote the future of our children. Fears of what could happen--what may not happen--and most importantly what we want to happen. Are we really being careful about what we are wishing for?
All of this happened in just the first two days of the two-week-wait.
For the next 7 days the mood swings kicked in as the effects of the clomid wore off. During these swinging days I have been motivated yet devastated, tired yet full of energy, happy yet crying--basically about as crazy as a person can get.
I started several projects--yet finished none of them. Obsessively cleaned my house then looked down my nose at the thought of those tasks. Washed the laundry, but didn't put it away, cooked like an iron chef for days and then literally ignored my own kitchen for a week. I have several unfinished posts, millions of unedited pictures not yet displayed in cyberspace, and an immeasurable amount of friendly blogs went unread because there has simply been 'No comment' from this blogger for awhile now.
I cried at the drop of a hat for both happy and sad reasons and laughed out loud for the same exact reasons. The more control I forced on my life, the more my emotions made sure I had the opposite effect-and I lost all control. At times I'm sure poor little Sophie didn't even recognize her own mother. But in the end, it will be worth it right? We will come out stronger when this is all done--and with more than we can imagine being added to our family. Right?
During the last 5 days of the two week wait, I had the pleasure of really getting in tune with my own body, physically and emotionally, and questioning everything I discovered.
Is my stomach getting bigger? Am I cramping? Is this implantation? Am I uncontrollably angry because of the hormones now running through?
Am I tired because I'm pregnant? No, make that exhausted--so I must be, right? Is there an octopus playing football in the middle of my tummy?
My skin looks good, I'm not breaking out as usual, this can't be PMS can it? Frito's wouldn't taste good on a pizza hut pizza, or would they? Do I really want to try it?
Is this all in my head? Am I making this up because I want it to be true?
Yeah, such an amazing two weeks. Eye-opening, emotion inducing, with all sorts of excitement brewing -- literally-- in the pit of my stomach while waiting, waiting, waiting, for an answer.
On the 13Th day I was nervously awaiting the answer. I was afraid to feel anything, crave anything, or even think anything. Even without the calendar this was one of the creepiest Friday the 13Th's I've ever experienced. Didn't even make it out of my jammies last Friday. I was terrified just to go to the bathroom--because I didn't want my body to tell me anything. I wasn't ready for the know-the skinny-the scoop--because I knew I wasn't ready for whatever Mother Nature was going to hand me. I could handle yes or no--because I wasn't prepared for the no.
On the 14Th day of the 2WW my body had yet to give it up--what's the result? Did we score a goal? Or strike out in extra innings? When will we know? When will this end?
It was this day I felt ready to know. Ready to celebrate--or commiserate-- and ultimately accept either way if we accomplished the goal. We had two plans to implement based on the grade, and I simply can't remember EVER being that anxious before a test in my life.
The 2WW is cruel. The 2WW is just. un. necessary. It's not fair-and simply stupid that modern science can't knock it out. It needs to keep trying. please.
While implementing plan B we began the grieving process-because this is a test I will have to do over. We packed in a whole bunch of denial in a few short hours that afternoon while simultaneously bargaining with God to make the test wrong. Then came anger as Mother Nature kicked in her most painful and ridiculously mean sign that the test was accurate. Sunday was the perfect depressing day. Gloomy, cold, and snowy weather started the day, the Bear's lost, and a broken spirit sat in self-pity.
Finally turned on Joel Osteen and he talked of acceptance and letting God stay in control--no matter what happens.
Good old Joel. He always says just the right things. Process done.
It's almost Monday morning, and after many choice words with God, a few pounds of chocolate, and marathon night of my fave West Wing in front of a fire with my beautiful family, I'm ready to finally say 'F*** It--Let's keep moving forward.'
As I frantically began finishing all of the unfinished projects (just like Trixie) I. REALIZED. SOMETHING.
A lot of people who have had the unfortunate experience of the 2WW don't have this:
Impromptu trips to the zoo on an unseasonably warm November afternoon.
(I tried to fix the pic from the delightful camera booths, but this was the best I could do) Or this,
The chance to care for a little one with a cold 2 days later. Or this,
A fun surprise at Target (Christmas!) when she's feeling better.
The chance to snap the picture of the little girl distracted from her crazy mom on freaky Friday by the addition of the Marshall Field's Mistletoe Bears!
(She's named them after the 5 surviving dogs from the movie Eight Below btw, so if anyone has 3 more bears to part with I would LOVE to add the 3 poor dogs that die in that tear jerker of a movie!) Or this,
Just a little silliness before bedtime with a camera.
I consider myself lucky.
After the 2WW is over, I have my little cuddle-bug, my butter-bee, my little mouse to keep me going. I get to spend Christmas with a beautiful little girl and enjoy the holiday like a kid all over again for years to come with my favorite person in the world. She's the one I am really grateful for everyday. Thank God for Sophie.
Sophie and I will spend the next 2 months or so appreciating our time together, remembering what we are grateful for each day, and celebrating a very special holiday season.
I'm lucky alright!
Now the only question left to ask is will we do this again? Can I go through it without thinking about it? Can I just do the footwork and not think about the outcome?
Two days ago the answer was NO WAY; yesterday -not so sure; but today, right now I know, absolutely! we are moving forward. We will keep going. I want what I want and I won't stop until I get what I'm KNOW I'm going to get--Sophie will have a little sister. Maybe a little brother. Maybe even both-God willing.
Yep--if it doesn't kill you--it will make you stronger. I have the muscles to prove it. And the smile, see?
Oh and note to self:: when the effects of the clomid kick in next month--do not touch the scissors and attempt a haircut. Apparently bang mutilation is a hormonal side effect the doctors are hesitant to disclose. So is going to the eye doctor to get rid of the glasses--I still can't believe I haven't switched back to my contacts yet! Welp, at least there's jergens natural self tanning lotion to keep me less-than-pasty this winter!