How can a woman that had trouble getting pregnant with her first daughter be terrified of getting pregnant again? I don’t know, but I know that I sure am.
After five and a half years of trying my husband and I finally went to a specialist to get some help and six months later we were pregnant. Nine months later in October of 2007 I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. Right before that my husband and I talked about trying to get pregnant right after having her do to the fact it is said you a very fertile the first three months after giving birth. I was almost on board due to the difficulty we had conceiving our daughter, but I knew me and I told him I wanted to wait. I explained to him that although I loved being pregnant it had scared me. The first four months I bled, put on bed rest, and had to constantly go the doctors. Then I began developing pregnancy induced hypertension in my sixth month which brought on bouts of pre-term labor. Then at thirty-five weeks was told I would be lucky to make it to thirty-eight weeks. At the end of my 36th week I was put in the hospital to be induced because my daughter wasn’t measuring right. On a Monday they started the induction and I didn’t have my daughter till Wednesday so I was in labor for seventy-two hours and that doesn’t count that I had started having contractions the Saturday before. Then you add that I pushed for three hours straight. Lastly, I had to stay in the hospital till that Saturday night because my daughter had jaundice bad and she had to stay in the hospital till her billarubin numbers went down.
Well, here I am five and a half months later. And I am terrified. I just had my appendix taken out because it had ruptured and my blood-pressure has been wacky for the past months and I am waiting to go to the doctor. I know that things do not go back to normal over night after having a child, but things were never normal before my pregnancy, but things actually were pretty normal for the past few month. Like clock work old aunt flow showed up every twenty-eight days. Except for this month and last month was the month of our accident. Then to add to my anxiety is all the signs I had with my daughter are showing. Maybe it’s PMS, but I doubt it.
Then other day my husband comes in and asks if I had started. When I informed him I hadn’t he grins and says, “Gotcha.”
Which I hadn’t said anything to him and for him to even notice that I hadn’t started dumbfounds me. That made me start thinking and count. I am currently almost two weeks late. Maybe I am over reacting. I don’t know, but I have to say. If I am I will be happy, but if I am not I will even happier.