8 weeks, 3 days

So far in this pregnancy I have been more struck by my lack of these typical pregnancy signs.  No morning sickness, no fatigue, no crazy cravings or aversions.  This week, however, I’m going to focus on dreams.

One of the hallmarks of pregnancy is vivid, crazy dreams.  This might be more noticeable for people who aren’t me.  I’ve always had crazy vivid dreams, dreams that I could remember in great detail.  My parents used to tell the story that when I was a child I would regale them in the morning with the most detailed, imaginative dreams.  When I would finish telling my story, my younger brother would jump in to share his dream.  Which always bore a marked similarity to mine.  I didn’t realize it, but not everyone remembers their dreams the way I do.  And not everyone remembers them in such detail.

I haven’t noticed my dreams to increase in vividness or craziness.  I was hoping that I would have dreams of being pregnant, or being a mother, but I had more of them before I was actually pregnant.  Like a couple of weeks before when I dreamt that I had triplets, delivered by one of my coworkers. This week however there were two notable exceptions.  The first one I think was spurred by the watching of “One Born Every Minute” a show which I will probably dedicate a post to in its entirety one of these weeks when I have nothing new to share.

That night I dreamt that I had gone into labor.  I was at the hospital with J when I got really hungry.  Somewhere, the two of us had heard that you could make gelato in your…birth canal…to keep it as undisgusting as you possibly can when talking about making ice cream where a baby is supposed to come out.  You would pour the ingredients in, and when you started pushing out the baby, out came the gelato too!  We decided it was worth a shot and I got into stirrups so J could start pouring in the ingredients.  At some point, the nurse came in.  I remember her telling us that there was no way this ice cream was going to be ready by the time I was going to have to start pushing.  I meanwhile just kept wondering what was going to make the gelato thick, since none of the ingredients were a thickening agent.

My other pregnancy dream wasn’t nearly as funny or strange and took place at the opposite end of the spectrum.  I’m sure it has something to do with my lack of typical pregnancy signs and constant anxiety.  Our first appointment is this Tuesday.  In my dream, J and I were at this appointment and waiting for forever. Someone, I think a nurse practitioner came in and seemed very confused.  He told me that I wasn’t supposed to have a cervical exam.  I told him that they were supposed to do an internal ultrasound because this was my first visit.  He left to go check on that, and never came back.  We kept waiting, and waiting, and finally I decided I had to get to work.  So I headed out the door as they handed me a manila envelope with documents in it.  I opened the envelope when I got to the office.  It said that I was no longer pregnant. I stopped reading at that point, so I don’t remember whether it said I had a miscarriage or was never pregnant, or what happened.  It made sense that the nurse practitioner was acting so strangely.  (Upon awakening though, it didn’t make sense how they knew I wasn’t pregnant since they hadn’t examined me at all.)  Shortly thereafter I got a phone call from my mom.  J had called her to tell her the news.  I remember getting off the phone with her very quickly and going to J’s office.  He was there, with the door closed. I went in and he was crying with mascara running down his cheeks.  He was far more upset than I was. 

7 weeks, 1 day

I completely skipped a week.  I know.  I’d blame pregnancy brain, but I was fully cognizant I was doing it. First I couldn’t think of anything to write.  Not that much changes from week to week, this early on. At least that’s what I thought.  Then I just got really busy and overwhelmed.  I like to write these on Wednesdays, so I don’t have to worry about that awkward “0 day” part of the heading.  But Wednesday I went out after work, and then I never seemed to get back caught up.  Before I knew it, it was Tuesday night again.

I said that not a lot changes from week to week, but I’m beginning to notice that my symptoms change drastically on Wednesdays.  Last week the frequent urination began.  Technically, I think it started Thursday, but we’re not going to quibble, right?  I noticed it because although I use the restroom on an hourly basis during the day, I’m usually able to sleep through the night.  Not anymore!  I don’t even know where most of the stuff comes from, since it’s not like I’m drinking any more than usual.  On the plus side, the constipation and cramping have completely disappeared.  The bloating started last week too.  It’s not so evident in the morning, when everything fits as it should, but right around 4pm, I feel like Violet from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.  My middle must be expanding, because all of a sudden I am ever so aware of the waistband of my pants.

And this week?  Well this week we can add the joys of desperate hunger which has begun today. Severe hunger which makes me feel frantic, like I might be forced to gnaw off my own arm.  It’s obsessive.  I can’t think of anything but what I can eat and when.  I can’t wait to see what the rest of the week holds in store.

5 weeks 1 day

I’ve already turned into the crazy pregnant lady.  I have dual conflicting fears.  The first is that I’m going to lose the pregnancy, and the second is that I’m having a hysterical pregnancy.  Seems silly to have both fears, right?  I mean, if I’m afraid of losing the pregnancy, then I must be pregnant.  And if I’m not pregnant, then why should I worry about losing it?

My biggest problem is a near total lack of symptomology.  I’m not sure if that’s a real word, spell check doesn’t recognize it, but it sounds awfully medical.  Other women who are around the same stage as me are complaining of ravenous hunger, unbearable fatigue, breasts that are so sore that they have to stand under warm water to release the pain, cravings, morning sickness, increased frequency of urination, and bloat.  I’ve got nada.  I’ve got gas (both ends) and constipation (probably related to the gas) and mild cramping on my left side that I constantly remind myself is NOT evidence of an ectopic pregnancy.  I know I probably should consider myself lucky to have “gotten off easy” so far, but it’s hard to sit back and enjoy the ride when I worry that maybe something is wrong because I’m not unbuttoning my pants after lunch and collapsing on the couch in a pile of blankets at the end of the day. 

My other craziness relates to “things to avoid.”  Before I was pregnant I swore up and down I wouldn’t become one of those people obsessed with cutting out everything that may or may not be bad.  I’m going to eat soft cheeses damn it.  And I even decided that I’d have a glass of wine or two throughout the pregnancy because French women?  They don’t give up their wine and cheese when they become pregnant.  And there is an entire country of perfectly fine and healthy French children.  And I figured it would keep the secret a secret for a while longer, because I’d be out with my friends, sipping a glass of wine, lulling them into a false belief of my extreme non-pregnant state. 

And then that second line appeared.  And I stopped eating turkey sandwiches.  And I purposely chose a burger with pepper jack cheese instead of a sandwich that included blue cheese.  And I’m consciously avoiding bacon.  And then of course, came the night when I went out for drinks with my coworkers.  All thoughts of “a glass of wine” flew right out the window.  I couldn’t drink a glass of wine. I WOULD KILL THE BABY.  I came up with a brilliant idea to order a glass and take baby sips throughout the night, leaving at least half of it.  As my coworkers got drunker and drunker they would forget what glass number I was on.  And then they started calling me out.  Asking if I didn’t like the wine.  The bartender even offered to switch it out for me.  And my boss, MY BOSS told me he noticed the level of my glass wasn’t going down very far at all.  I texted J and told him I was going to drink a glass of wine and to PLEASE tell me it was going to be okay – because around this time, Muppet is working on the cells that will make up the nervous system and brain and the last thing I want is for our Muppet to end up with an arm growing out of the brainstem.  So much for my plan of a perfect French woman pregnancy.