With little fanfare (hell, not even an actual conversation with the OB) I gave my first vials of blood for this pregnancy to the lab yesterday afternoon. And then later that evening proceeded to completely lose it.
Of course last night I made the mistake I often do in this situation (gah, there's a fucked up word, often). I spent way too much time on the boards, and on the interwebs. Haven't I learned? Shouldn't I know better?
The symptom watch. The failing-to-find-a-symptom watch. The fatigue - is it because I am pregnant or because living in a constant state of anxiety would exhaust anyone?
Life's tiniest setbacks are spinning my emotions out of control. The leak in my tire that caused me to burst into tears on Sunday afternoon. Then yesterday, the nail discovered in that tire by the mechanic who didn't have my tire in stock. Of course he didn't. So today, instead of lying around the pool with Niblet enjoying the sunshine I will be driving my sagging car to the mechanic. Because life throws nails at my tires.
And poor Niblet. "Why are you crying Mommy?"
And poor Husband. "Why did you tell Daddy he wasn't helping you, Mommy?"
The kind-good-not-sociopathic part of me is thrilled that most women will never ever experience the living torture that is recurrent pregnancy loss. The anxious-fraying-at-the-edges part of me hates feeling so alone. Wallowing in the crazy. Isolated and freakish.
I miss the beach.