Well, baby Shelby is half way done in the baking process and now it's time for her to rotate! Just kidding! Though I have been able to feel her moving, daily, for the last week or so. Her favorite time of day seems to be the afternoon. Definitely not a morning gal (takes after her mom) and I am secretly hoping she keeps those same habits once she's here, though I know it's unlikely. She'll just have to get use to have a troll looking mommy coming to her aid in the early morning hours.
It has become evident that the bigger the belly gets the more it starts to become a reality that we are going to be parents. Like real parents, to a real human child. No tamagotchi redo's or start overs if we accidentally forget to play with them. In fact, the other night Tim turned to me on the couch and said, "You know you have a human growing in there. A real human." Thank for the news flash babe, I thought maybe it was a puppy or some kind of half breed dog/human child...
When I feel her moving it's a combination of awe and disbelief. Disbelief that there's a tiny little human INSIDE me and that she's ours, and awe because my husband is adopted and Shelby opens a whole new door in his world, a biological door.
Now, I know pregnancy has been around for forever, but just like miscarriage is different for each mother, having your child growing insides you, there's just no comparison and I firmly believe no two pregnancies are alike. Each mother experiences pregnancy in her own way. Some love it and some not so much.
With that being said, I am not one of those pregnant ladies that absolutely loves being pregnant...I don't. I love that we created a tiny little person from the love Tim and I share, but I do not love being pregnant. In fact, the whole thing has been rather uncomfortable...and I'm only 5 months along!
I know there are going to be some haters out there, let them hate, no one said you have to enjoy being pregnant. The constant aches and pains associated with the dispersal of your insides to make room for your growing bundle; the sleepless nights either from the inability to get comfortable or the constant need to pee; waking up one morning to find the pants that fit you so well just the week before are bursting at the seems; or the fact that you just dropped $150 on new bras that fit you for a grand total of a 2 weeks. Pregnancy is hard. Hard physically and hard mentally, but I have no doubt the rewards are well worth the discomfort. Still...don't try to talk me into liking being pregnant, it's not something you can be talked into.
Oh, and another thing, is there an imaginary sign that only outsiders can see that reads:
"YES! It's okay for you, a total stranger, to stroke my belly even though I have absolutely no idea who you are,"
because if there is, do me a favor and imagine there's another sign that reads:
I have no problem when Tim says 'hello' to Shelby, or my mom, or even close friends, but if I don't know you, keep your paws to yourself unless you ask! You wouldn't want me rubbing your beer belly or stroking your food baby out of the blue so don't assume it's okay to reach out and rub my tummy either!
On to the next 19 weeks!!! Praying and hoping for a continued healthy pregnancy!!!
So I’m just about 5 months along in this crazy pregnancy journey and one of the most commonly asked questions I get asked is, “is this your first?” Seems like a harmless question... in fact it’s a question that should be harmless, but for someone who has had a miscarriage (or a few) how are we supposed to answer?
If we say “no” then there’s the explanation that inevitably follows the answer. Some might think we’re just seeking sympathy, and others might feel like we just need to let go and move on. If we say "yes," well that may not sit too well emotionally. I’ll admit, I’ve answered this question with a few different answers, and my most recent answer made me feel a twinge of guilt. Guilt that I have thought about quite a few times since the day it happened.
I was getting my hair trimmed by a new hair dresser and she inquired about the bump, asking how far along I was; if we knew if it was a boy or girl; and dun, dun, dun, if it was my first. I simply answered “yes,” and that was the end of that.
Hair freshly did, I was heading back to work and the twinge settled in. Sure, Shelby technically will be our first *fingers crossed* born, but she is certainly not our first conceived, or loved. I felt like in some way I had betrayed our angel baby simply by not acknowledging his existence when asked if this was our first.
Miscarriage is one of those things that carries a ripple effect. It doesn’t only impact present day, but it continues to reappear for weeks, months, even years into the future. Certain days that held no meaning now take on a completely different significance. Whether it be the day you found out you were pregnant, the day you lost your baby, or the day that could have been their birthday. Miscarriage may only be one small chapter in a woman’s life, but it’s a chapter that sneaks into new chapters throughout the rest of her life...even if it's just a single sentence.
So what's the right answer when someone asks if its your first and you've had a miscarriage(s)? The answer, there is no right answer. It's whatever your comfortable discussing with that person. My hairdresser was a stranger. A professional making small talk because it's part of her job. I'm sure she hears enough whining and complaining from the customers who patron her chair. Besides, this is a happy time in my life and although I will never forget our angel baby, I am trying my damnedest to not bring negative juju into this pregnancy.
Shelby Annmarie has a sibling she'll never meet, and some will never understand, but in my heart I will always be the mother to two amazing kiddos.