The first trimester with Gaines #2 has been simultaneously easier and harder than with Gaines #1. With Ella, my Gallbladder was slowly but surely giving out over the course of the first thirteen weeks, so I blamed baby for what was actually a failing organ. I believe most of my vomiting and cramps were attributed to the gallbladder rather than the fetus, but over the last year, I've been terrified of being pregnant or ever feeling that way again. It was enough to make me consider never having another baby. Was she worth it? Absolutely. Would I do it again to get her here? Absolutely. Would I ever re-live it for nostalgia and memory lane? Not in a million, trillion years. Whenever the time rolled around that Cody was even brave enough to mention baby #2, I immediately said "Not until Ella is potty trained." As friends and family started asking (sigh), we always laughed and said "We'll probably just get pregnant tomorrow. May as well do it while we're tired!" So I'm sure this pregnancy won't come as a shock to many people, but believe me whole-heartedly when I say, this sweet baby was a wonderful surprise. The Lord knew. He knew that I would put it off until it was too late to logically have another one. When I saw those pink lines, did I weep tears of happiness? No. I cried a lot of tears of selfishness, frustration, and sadness. Were a lot of those feelings hormone rooted? Yes... but some of them were just human nature. Ella was still breastfeeding almost exclusively, and waking up almost every two hours at night. Looking back now, we see that she was genuinely starving because my supply was drying up faster than it could produce for her. When I was put on the progesterone supplement, it only accelerated the process, and it finally came down to her pediatrician and my doctor saying "Hey, we respect you for trying, but you're both miserable. It's time to wean." And you know what? It took one day. One Tuesday afternoon, I skipped a feeding and offered milk instead, then waited to see how long she would make it before she melted down for more. When she was hungry again, she pointed at the bottle sitting on the counter, and never tried to breastfeed again. Y'all. I cried for three days straight. I mean sobbed. Like, huddled in a corner and gasped for breath. Like, Buried my face in Cody's chest and blew my snot into his t-shirt. My heart was broken into a hundred different pieces. Every feeling I could feel was hurt. And Ella just kept right on living in Ella's world... only exponentially happier. And sleep? Sweet Mercy, the child slept for twelve hours the first few nights after moving to milk. We had our own struggles with the transition, like we initially had to switch to lactose free for awhile before moving over to organic whole milk. Diaper rash was a brand new rodeo for us, as breastfeeding never gave us those problems. We dealt with tummy aches and how much milk was too much milk for the first time in her life, but after a couple of weeks, we hit a groove, and we've never looked back. I still find myself saddened that I was only able to breastfeed her for 13 months, but this break has also been wonderful for me. Sleeping at night as been the answer to so many of my mood swings... I already dread the newborn phase.
I've also been informed that the progesterone supplement is likely what caused the majority of those awful exhaustion feelings. I always shrug off warning labels on prescriptions, like "May Cause Dizziness or nausea." Hey friend, don't shrug the progesterone warnings off. Mercy gracious. The first day I took the pill, I took it almost immediately, because obviously I was terrified and wanted it pumping through my system. Mistake. Dumbest Mistake. The room was actually spinning. At one point, I asked Cody if my recliner was turning, because I was so dizzy, I couldn't remember the basic function of my equilibrium. On top of that mess, the nausea that accompanied the drugs was miserable. It was never enough to send me running toward a trash can, but enough that I curled into a ball and cried some days. Eventually, I learned to take the pill long after Ella went to sleep, because functioning as a mother wasn't possible during the first hour or so after taking a pill. I was so happy when Dr. Lane told me I didn't need to take them anymore at my 9 week check up. Another month of those things probably would have done me in.
After weaning Ella, I was roughly ten weeks pregnant, and the exhaustion was still almost more than I could handle. I believe this can be contributed to chasing a one year old almost non-stop, and pushing through the tired because I really don't have a choice this go-around. I can't call in tired to mom duty like I did to a desk job. By the time Cody made it home every day from what has honestly been the busiest season in his work history, there was a silent battle for who was more exhausted. I'm humble enough to acknowledge that I was annoyed with his yawning, as I'm sure he grew frustrated with me saying "I'm too tired to cook." We spent money we didn't have eating out, and I'm sure that Cody silently stressed over the bank account, but I couldn't bring myself to care. I am one hundred percent sure that the sleepy/fatigue/hit by a bus feelings were worse with this pregnancy, but I would still choose this first trimester over my first trimester with Ella. So I'm very, completely, totally thankful for that.
Otherwise, this pregnancy has been pretty by the book so far. Of course, true to form, my blood pressure was off the charts at each of my appointments, so we fought a battle of medical degree vs. a woman knowing her body. A compromise of a 24 hour urinalysis was the peace treaty, and as gross as it was, the results landed in my favor. They're still monitoring it closely, but I'm thankful for an attentive doctor. Looking back, I see now that I didn't have that kind of care my first pregnancy. I had a great doctor, and my baby is here and healthy, but he was a little old school, so things went from fine to scary in a matter of minutes. I would prefer not to do that again. As gross as it was to complete the urinalysis, if we start seeing symptoms of pre-eclampsia with this pregnancy, I'll repeat the test and they'll compare the two results and be able to confirm the diagnosis. OR they'll finally say, "Kaylea is a big fat chicken and suffers white coat syndrome. All of this drama has to do with a psych-out she gives herself each time a blood pressure cuff is attached to her arm." I tried arguing this point to the doctor, even going so far as to request being admitted for a 6 hour monitoring appointment. The entire time I was in labor with Ella, my blood pressure never moved from about 116/70. I was never given magnesium, wasn't forced to lay on my left side, they eventually removed the cuff from my arm completely. I will fight this fight until I'm blue in the face. I don't believe I have a blood pressure problem. If white coat syndrome is a real thing, I'm a victim.
Wow, look at that. All I have to do is pretend somebody on the other screen is rolling their eyes at me and it sends me on a tangent. Let's blame that little rant on the hormones, Yes? Apologies. Anyway. I think that sums most everything up. I'm happy that we're almost done with this part. I still see no sign of my energy returning, but being removed from the progesterone supplement was a wonderful, magical morale lifter. I'm beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel, but now my job is to drag my pregnant legs toward it. We'll see ya... well... Whenever we see ya!
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