me:1 negative self:0

The VP just walked into my office to tell me she just finished reading a “very glowing review” that my manager had done on me and that she is very impressed. She also mentioned that all the writers and editors love working with me. She is “ecstatic” to have me working here.

So there negative self – take that!

Stop running yourself down and assuming the worst all the time. You do a great job at work and you are in a place you love.

I’m writing this down so I can look back on this and remember on those days when I tell my mirror self how fat she looks or worry that I am not adding up at work or as a wife or, eventually, as a mother. So I officially announce today to be Give Yourself a Break Day. This is for all the women out there that are hard on themselves and critical of how they perform in their day to day functions (employee, wife, mom, sister etc).

Today, when you have a moment to yourself, pour a nice glass of wine or cup of hot chocolate or whatever, sit down and reflect on something positive you did or have done, or are doing and give yourself some credit for working as hard as you do. Take a break from self-criticism today. Stop worrying about everything and give yourself the night off.

Yule A.K.A. Rusty A.K.A. Smelly Dog

The poor old dog we adopted did not work out. We brought him home Saturday afternoon. He and Charlie got along famously. We all went running around in the park together, came home and played some more, ate our dinner together…and then Yule, who’s name is actually Rusty on his Rabies tag, went after the cats. Not good. We barricaded the doors, we ushered the cats upstairs and moved all of their earthly possessions up there with them, but to no avail. Yule/Rusty/Smelly Dog wanted a piece of those cats. Then, he peed on our floor, many times. Then, he rejected the dog crate; a place in our house where all the good little doggies go to sleep for the night, so the parents can have an hour to themselves before going to bed. He actually bent the bars on the dog crate. He was in there for a total of 2 minutes.

We returned Yule/Rusty/Smelly Dog to the farm on Sunday. Both of us were heartbroken about it. I know he has a good life on the farm, but I know he really wanted to live with a family. I spent the rest of Sunday in tears. Apparently it takes me about 3.2 seconds to get attached to an animal and then I am a blubbering mess if I can’t help them and keep them. So that’s it for the dog thing. Charlie is going to have to be an only child for the next little while.

In other news, my review here at work went very well. Everyone loves me and I am getting a raise. Wonderful. I still have not told my boss that I am pregnant. I think its becoming a secret little game I am having with myself. How long before anyone starts to notice and then I have to tell? I walk boldly through the hallways without sucking in (though this would prove to be almost impossible at this point), my tummy obviously protruding. Perhaps people think I’m just getting fat.

Anyway, back to work. My mood is still pretty crap but I think that has something to do with having to abandon a poor, needy dog over the weekend. And I am oh so tired. So endlessly tired it makes me want to crumple up on the floor like a used Kleenex and make moaning sounds until someone comes over, picks me up and tucks me into bed.

18 weeks pregnant tomorrow!

i'm a crazy person

I’m going to be honest here. Pregnancy is not what I thought it was going to be. I know, duh, of course not, how would I have known? It’s not the physicality of pregnancy that I find difficult, though I am not overly enamored with my new udders or the constant cramp I have in my left leg. There appears to be something odd going on with me mentally, and I really don’t like it.

I have never been accused of being the happiest person in the world, but I get by okay. Lately though, I haven’t been feeling so good. I am trying very hard not to let certain stresses get to me because I know it is not good for the baby and I, but this is becoming a bit of a challenge. Perhaps what I am feeling is directly related to hormones, or maybe, just maybe, I am heading down the road to mental illness. Sounds dramatic, I know.

As I said before, I am going to be honest. So here I go.

There have been moments where I have been happy about this baby. Most of the time, I find myself worrying about my job, how I am going to be as a mother, and the amount of work around the house that does not get done now – which will only increase as I add to our family, what is going to happen to my body etc.

I am worried about my mother and this horrible situation she and all of us are in with my father, which looks like it will never be resolved.

The idea of breastfeeding makes me feel repulsed. Is that fucked up or what?

My self esteem is shite. And I think it is only going to get worse.

I am not handling things rationally. Case in point: Last night the phone rings at 8pm or so. Caller ID tells me that it is my doctor’s office calling so I answer. The following is a rough transcript of the conversation:

Nurse: Is this (my name)?

Me: Yes.

Nurse: Get a pen and paper ready, I have an appointment for you

Me: (Now getting worried): Okaaayyy. What is this for?

Nurse: You are pregnant aren’t you?

Me (heart now pounding and thinking that this call has something to do with my last blood test results and they are very bad and this is why they are calling me): Yes.

Nurse: I am calling to tell you we have booked an appointment with an OB/GYN. It is this Friday at 2:15pm with a Dr. Neil Chen. (or something)

Me: I already have an ultrasound that day at that exact time. Not only that, I specifically asked for a female OB/GYN.

Nurse: I don’t book the appointments. You’ll have to sort this out with your doctor.

End of call.

First of all, could you not fucking help a brother out by telling me why the fuck you are calling me in the first place instead of making me worry about having another miscarriage or something going horribly wrong with the baby?

Secondly, why the fuck is my doctor’s office booking me fucking appointments firstly, with a male doctor which I specifically DO NOT WANT because they DO NOT HAVE VAGINAS and therefore (and I don’t give a flying fuck if this sounds bad) they have NO IDEA ABOUT THE PHYSICAL PAIN OF CHILDBIRTH or even just what it feels like to have a vagina between their legs; and secondly, why is my doctor’s office assuming I will be available for this time?

Rage.

For those of you who do not live in Canada in a healthcare system that barely manages to take care of people because of doctor and nurse shortages and dismal funding because the majority of Canadians continued to vote the Liberal party in for years and years, let me ‘splain: Most likely, I do not have a choice who I see or when I see them because there are not nearly enough OB/GYNs to go around.

But you know what? I don’t fucking care. Get me a woman gyno and get me one now. Yes, I am turning into one of those people but I’ll tell you what, I was treated so poorly when I had my miscarriage that I vowed that I would not take shit needlessly when it came to me and my baby’s care.

I’m sure Dr. Chen is just fine as an OB/GYN, but I don’t want to see him.

So anyway, this began a spiral of funk that spilled into this morning. I had a horrible nightmare last night where my entire family was slaughtered, couldn’t get back to sleep after it, and now I have my year-end review at work today – which was supposed to happen at 11 this morning but has been put off until 2pm. Great. I get to worry all day now instead of just this morning.

Why did I just go into this rant? Because I think what this shows is that I am not handling things well. I am flying off the handle at the drop of a hat. I am not getting enough sleep. And I am worried that I am going to start coming unravelled.

Is this normal for a pregnant gal?

anniversary

Time flies. Today is my 2 year wedding anniversary. I can’t believe the husband and I have been married for 2 years. It definitely does not feel that long. I think the total time we have been together, dating and married, adds up to 11 years. It’s so weird when I look back at pictures of us when we first met. I was 17 and he was almost 20. Little did we know we were going to end up where we are now. A house in the suburbs, full of animals and a baby on the way. I could honestly not have done it with anyone else though. I’m so lucky to have found him.

On the baby front, I haven’t really been feeling ‘overly pregnant’. By which I mean, sometimes I kind of forget that I even am. This seems to be changing pretty fast:

The boobs. My god the boobs are killing me again. They feel so heavy and sore that I think I am going to have to start wearing a bra at night. To me, they feel like udders. They sit on my chest, rapidly expanding beyond DD territory, hard as rocks. Actually, they are starting to look pretty ridiculous because the rest of me (other than my inconspicuously hidden baby bump) has not expanded at all. Hello Dolly Parton.

Baby bump. It is warping my belly button. Never in my life have I ever seen the bottom of my bottomless pit belly button until now. Its sort of sitting at a weird angle too. And the rest of my tummy just below the belly button is pushing up and out. I have a feeling I’m going to be really big.

Leg cramps. Every night while I slumber away on my left side. So uncomfortable.

Baby kicks. Morning and evening, the little one is boxing away in there now. Its wonderful.

Oh yes, as for the dog Yule; we will be picking him up this week for a trial period to make sure he can adjust to life with us well. You knew I would do it. Man, I am going to be one busy momma.

the zoo

Tomorrow marks the beginning of week 17 for me. I’m really excited about the ultrasound in week 18. Hopefully, if all goes well, we find out the sex. I don’t really have any annoying symptoms. I still don’t really have much of an appetite. My only complaint is that I am still a little tired and I get a leg cramp every night from sleeping on my left side.

A few people, including our vet, have recommended possibly getting a second, older dog for Charlie to keep him company when the baby is born. Not that I plan on ignoring my little guy but I won’t have as much time for him and he does demand quite a bit of it. My husband is home much of the time because of his shift work, but there will be days when its just me and the baby and the cats and dog. I feel like I live on a farm. Which is why I initially said no to getting another dog when my husband and mother were sitting at the dining room table discussing it the other day. My mum thinks we should, which is easy for her to say since she does not live on my farm.

After my mother left, my husband went on the internet and came downstairs with a pile of dogs he found on some adopt-a-dog website. Of course as soon as I saw the dogs, I melted. One in particular, a five year old yellow lab named Yule (we’ll have to change the name) is looking for a home after his owner, a senior who spoiled him rotten and made him very obese, passed away. Yule needs a home with active owners and another doggie to keep him company.

Of course, I just melted.

To make a long story short, the foster parents of Yule are calling us tonight for an interview. I guess this means we are getting another dog. What the hell am I thinking? I don’t know. Our vet says it can take a lot of pressure off of us to have a dog for Charlie to play with. I figure, Charlie is so much work how much work could another dog possibly be?

Famous last words.

five minutes to midnight

The Atomic Clock has been pushed forward 2 minutes as of today. The factors influencing this decision are the 20,000 plus nuclear weapons around the world, a number of them ready to be launched in minutes, failure of the US and Russia to dismantle the vast amount of arms they have, turmoil in the Middle East, Iran and North Korea’s nuclear programs, and, perhaps most frightening as it is a precedent: global warming.

To most people, I’m sure this will barely even register on the radar. But to me, and not only because I am bringing a new life into this world (please excuse the cliché), it is something to be very concerned about. The world leaders and governments are not doing enough to combat nuclear proliferation and certainly there is not a country out there that is taking the issue of global warming seriously enough.

I’m sure many of us are aware of what is going on in the news, but I doubt very much that the majority are paying attention and wanting to learn more about what is really happening. Each day at work, the lunch table discussion involves talking about last night’s episode of Grey’s Anatomy.

I know, I know. I sound pretty negative and maybe a little overly dramatic. My point is this: we want superficial distractions and stupid television shows because we need to unwind and zone out once in awhile; but to fill our lives with mindless crap and to choose to be ignorant about what is going on around us is dangerous.

How many minutes will be spent on the story of the Atomic Clock on the news tonight? Will David Beckham be the lead story again? Why is the sports segment the longest? Why are there 25 copies of “Employee of the Month” on the shelves at the video store and only 1 of “The Fog of War”, probably one of the most insightful and brilliant documentaries to be made in a long time.

WTF is going on?

the unkindest cuts

Being pregnant, I’ve been reading as much as possible on the subject. The first book I picked up is an old standard: “What to Expect When You’re Expecting”, which I actually read before I was pregnant and I haven’t picked it up since. I thought the book was kind of pedestrian in a way. It was like reading one of those “Idiot’s Guide to…” books. I find that the “Mayo Clinic Guide to Pregnancy” is much more thorough and descriptive. It also covers a lot more and gives you great descriptions and pictures week by week. It has a great section on elective and non-elective cesarean as well. I wonder if some of the other books with omit this topic or quickly breeze through it because women don’t feel they need to know about this surgery. I guess we all assume we are most likely going to have a vaginal birth, which is not the case with an increasing number of women.

Every woman on my street who has given birth (this includes 8 women) have all had cesareans. I thought this was kind of strange. All of them but one went into labour and headed off to the hospital prepared for a vaginal birth. One of the women had placenta previa and had to have a scheduled c-section.

Before I got pregnant, I was obsessed with finding an OB/GYN that would consider doing an elective cesarean. Now, I feel that I want to do whatever is best for the baby. I don’t have my OB yet, so the other day at an appointment with my family doctor, I inquired about cesareans and vaginal birth.

According to my doctor, there are some OB’s that do elective c-sections but it is not recommended. It is considered major surgery and the recovery time is much longer than that of a vaginal birth. My next question was about one of my greatest fears: the episiotomy. My doctor told me that these are no longer done therapeutically and the rates of these have been going down in the past few years. Still, she emphasized, it is important that I convey my wishes to my OB AND to the doctor that will be present when I am going through labour that I do not want an unnecessary episiotomy.

If you are like me and are interested in the subject, I suggest you google ‘episiotomy’ and check out the new research coming out which basically says that in cases where they are not medically necessary (in other words, the baby is not in distress and you can take your time with the pushing) they cause more harm than good. You will also be sitting on an ice pack for some time, have burning pain when you pee, and have to hold your stitches when you shit for a few weeks after birth.

My doctor went on to explain that many births are rushed unnecessarily because the doctors and nurses are busy and would like the process done as quickly and efficiently as is possible.

I’ve heard a lot about this in some of the books I have been reading. While a hospital birth is, in my opinion, still the best and safest option, the whole process has undergone a very sterile and unnatural transition. The use of forceps, vacuum-assisted delivery and episiotomy are often times unnecessary ‘tools’ used during birth. It makes me kind of mad, no wait, really mad when I feel that I have to worry about what is going to be done to my body in the interest of saving time.

Already I feel like I am taking up too much time at my doctor’s appointments. That I am a nuisance in the diagnostic imaging department at the hospital because I ask so many questions when viewing my ultrasound. And when I think back to how poorly I was treated when I had an ultrasound with my first pregnancy, where a tiny, lifeless fetus floated on the screen and I was not told what was happening, and then left to gather my things and navigate my way out of there by myself without even so much as a kind word from a nurse, I get really, really mad.

So I picked up Naomi Wolf’s “Misconceptions”, a book about the “Truth, Lies and Unexpected on the Journey to Motherhood”. The book is about the way women are treated when pregnant by the medical establishment and others, and how it negatively impacts our experience of pregnancy, birth and early motherhood. I was hoping to glean some clever insight and find that I could relate to the women in the book; but all I found was a whiny, white upper-middle-class woman, bent on militant feminist perceptions, who had no idea what a luxury it was for her to be able to complain about a process that millions and millions of women worldwide go through; the vast majority of them in dire poverty with little or no medical intervention.

It made me feel whiney too. I will ensure that I am not hurried or bullied by anyone along the way in my pregnancy, but I am going to count myself damn lucky that I live in Canada where I have health coverage and a clean, safe hospital in which to have my baby.

Food for thought though.

homemade dog food

Not only does my dog have a very sensitive tummy, he is, according to our veterinarian, one of the most hyper dogs she has ever seen. This is to be expected from Chocolate labs apparently. When I was researching the breed, I was told that the colour of the lab made no difference. Now a veterinarian tells me this is not true.

Well, hell. If I can deal with this dog and all his maladies, I’m pretty sure I can handle a baby. Can I handle the two together is the question.

While I was up with Charlie all night last night as he threw up, I realized that regardless of how much work he is, we picked him and he is our responsibility. To turn our backs on him now would be irresponsible and cruel. As much as he is a lot of work, I truly love the little guy. I think that he has taught me the true meaning of patience. The fact that I can now wipe the diarrhea off of his bum after he dribbles it on the carpet and then go right back to finishing my lunch (after a thorough hand scrubbing mind you) has shown me how much I have grown as his mummy over the last few months.

The vet has recommended that we start making his food. I used to do this for my old dogs and it consists of buying bulk amounts of brown rice, oatmeal, ground turkey and vegetables and vitamin supplements, and cooking a whole bunch of the food on a Sunday afternoon then freezing the food in meal sized portions for the week ahead. I already do this for our food so I might as well. The vet office has even said they will supply the vitamin supplements free of charge. Did I mention how much I love that clinic? They are the only one so far that has promoted healthy, holistic diets for animals. I have learned a lot about dog and cat food over the last few years and I can tell you that most of it is complete garbage. It’s scary what these companies are allowed to dump in the food.

We had Charlie on one of the recommended holistic brands, but apparently it is too rich for him and it makes his poo taste too good to resist. So tonight, we cook. He’s also taking Zantac for his tummy and some other anti-bacterial for his diarrhea. Hopefully, we can resolve the poop problems once and for all.

In other news: ice storm! Yay! So much fun to drive in. Also causing power outages. Also caused the van containing my brand new king-sized mattress set which I was looking forward to sleeping on tonight to go careening into a ditch. No bed for us. This after we disassembled our old bed already and now the frame, headboard and footboard are set up in its place. We’re sleeping on the floor again. Which I guess is fine considering that we don’t sleep anyway because we’re up with the puppy all night.

I’d also like to take this opportunity to vent a little. I am tired of people telling me that it is not the baby moving around that I am feeling, that what I am feeling is probably gas. To these people I say: my body, my baby. I know what gas feels like. Gas does not feel like soft fluttering butterflies in my womb. Gas feels like gas in my intestines. I know the difference. I’m not an idiot.

To my baby I say: It’s nice to finally feel you in there. Every day I feel we are more connected. I hope you enjoy your stay and that everything is to your liking in there.

my dog needs a therapist

Charlie, the charming dog that he is, has taken to eating his own shit. There is a fancy name for this: coprophagy. How did we find this out? There is a story.

For those of you who are easily disgusted, I warn you that the following contains numerous and egregious references to feces and the many different ways in which said feces is ‘digested’ and expelled by my puppy.

Last night around 10pm, as I was getting ready to head off to bed, Charlie pranced into the living room where my husband and I were watching television, and threw up what looked to be about 8 cups of puke. It’s not unusual for him to throw up occasionally; however, we noticed that this puke had the distinct odour of poo, and the distinct colour of poo. He continued to vomit about three more times and I scooted him out into the backyard. This was just in time for the diarrhea to come exploding out of his cute little puppy butt.

At this point, I started to panic. My first thought was that he had either twisted his stomach, or there was a blockage in his intestines, and this would account for the fact that he was throwing up his own excrement. As we stood shivering in the backyard for a moment while my husband scrubbed the carpet inside, Charlie looked up at me with a facial expression that could only say “Mommy, I don’t feel very good.” And at once I was rendered a pathetic blob of hormones and tears.

I brought Chucky back inside and went for the phonebook. I found an emergency vet clinic a few minutes away from our house and called them. After describing the symptoms to the nice lady on the phone, I was told to bring Chuck in immediately because this sounded like it could be life-threatening. We begin to panic.

At 11pm we made it to the clinic. Charlie bounced happily out of the car and into the office. The technician took one look at him and asked us if we were sure that he was sick. Half an hour and $150 later, Charlie gets a shot of Gravol and a prescription for anti-diarrhea medication. The vet told us to keep an eye on him but felt that there was no blockage and that the vomiting and diarrhea were a result of him getting into something he should not have. He also told us that people ‘love their dogs too much’ and that because Charlie is ‘our first baby’ we are being ‘too overprotective’. Nice. He was creepy anyway.

So Charlie made it through the night without puking. We made it through the night with little to no sleep.

So my husband calls me this morning to tell me all about what Charlie got in to after I left for work. He went right out into the backyard and ate last night’s frozen diarrhea. So I guess that’s what he’s been doing out there in the backyard.

I guess I’ll have to nag my husband about the dog poop like I do about the cat litter. At least the backyard will be nice and clean. I really wasn’t happy with the ‘leave the poo out there until I feel like picking it up’ system he had going anyway.

Ahh, life is so romantic isn’t it?

a pregnancy rant

As a result of the wonders of pregnancy, I developed heinous acne. Lovely. Not only did I suffer from zits that I never got even as a teenager, they quickly spread to my chest, preventing me from wearing anything with a v-neck. I’m talking bad. It hurt.

So when I was told to try diaper rash cream on the acne, I figured I might as well because nothing else worked and the stuff that did work I was not allowed to use.

It worked. Like a charm.

So I thought I would just pass that on to people in case they are suffering the same fate as I was. Not only do your coworkers wonder why you are suddenly getting thick around the middle, they are also gazing at their own reflections in your greasy forehead while they are talking to you and marvelling at just how bad your skin is for a 28 year old. Oh, and get the 40% zinc oxide cream, the others have too little zinc to do anything.

In other news, I thought I would be more positive and take a break from worrying about how fat I am starting to look and obsessing over the potential stretch marks I am going to receive. So I’m doing pretty good with this and then the husband makes a comment about how I went to McDonalds last week. He thinks McDonald’s is disgusting. I agree. I never eat the stuff. However, the other evening I was driving home after a long day at work and then running errands and my tummy started to growl. Then it hit me: I must eat chicken McNuggets. I can’t explain it, but I know it happens during pregnancy. I ate the food and I felt good. I know it’s not healthy, but once in a while I think it’s okay to cheat. Because I did not have cash on me, I had to use Interac. Because my husband OBSESSIVELY goes over the bank statements each week, he saw that I went to McDonalds.

He actually made a point of bringing it up to me. When I looked at him in a way that said:”Yeah, so what…?” He proceeded to tell me how disgusting that food is. WTF. Now, because I used to smoke I cannot say anything about his cigarettes (he quit 6 days ago thank jeebus); but how fucking ridiculous is it that someone who smokes cigarettes wants to lecture you on how bad McDonalds is. I’m not even going to get into his diet here, which most of the time is not bad but he eats his share of complete crap.

You know why this makes me really mad? Because I had to give up EVERYTHING. Cigarettes, alcohol, caffeine, excess salt, excess sugar, diet coke, anything with aspartame in it, and a few other things I used to enjoy. I’m not complaining. There is nothing more important to me than the health of this baby and I can live without all that stuff. But it’s not like he gave up anything with me. He kept drinking and smoking. He maintained his lifestyle.

While we’re on the subject of shit that pisses me off, I would also like to mention that I am sick and fucking tired of people talking about how much weight I should gain and how I better start slathering on the cream so I don’t get stretch marks and how I can lose the weight after I give birth. You know what? FUCK OFF. I’m the one that is pregnant; I’m the one that dealt with the morning/all day sickness, the fatigue, the depression. I can worry myself enough without having input from other people.

You think women don’t worry about these things enough without other people having to bring it up? Leave us alone. We are tired and sick. We are sacrificing a lot right now, physically, mentally and emotionally so lay off. And to the woman who gave me a dirty look when I told her I take Tylenol sometimes when I have a headache while pregnant: go back to your scrapbooking bitch. You’re not my fucking OB/GYN. I have a goddamn headache and I have to go to work. I’m not smoking crack.

Sorry for all the swearing. Sometimes it just makes the writing more effective. I do feel better now.

15 Weeks

This week, I have to go in for a blood test for the Integrated Prenatal Screening. I am thinking very positively (thanks for the supportive comments!) and looking forward to my 18 week ultrasound where, if the baby cooperates, I get to find out the sex. A few other women have asked me why on earth I would want to know the sex and ruin the surprise. I think that for me, it will help me bond even more with the little creature, also I can narrow in on some names, and as soon as I find out, I am going to buy the first little outfit as a celebration.

Something in me is saying boy. I think it’s because I know my husband would be so happy with one. I know he would be happy with a girl too, but after listening to him talk about his strained relationship with his dad and what he would do with his own son to make sure that didn’t happen, my heart aches for him. Sounds sappy eh? Well what the heck do you expect from a pregnant woman? Seriously though, this isn’t some weird “I must please my husband by giving him a son” thing, I just think that it would be wonderful for him, and that makes me feel all warm and gooey inside. Regardless of the sex, we’ll both be happy.

As far as symptoms go, I’m still pretty tired and now I feel sick again at dinner time. I am definitely starting to feel heaviness in my uterus and my heart pounds when I go for hikes with the dog. The doctor says this is normal and my blood pressure is in the low to normal range so I’m not worried.

I’m going to tell my boss about the baby in February, after my probation is over. I’m getting tired of having to hide it from everyone at work.

So that’s it for now. I’m going to drag myself through the rest of the afternoon because I haven’t been sleeping well lately. Hopefully tonight I’ll be able to get a good eight hours.

Happy New Year.

Since I did not get to party this year, I am refusing to make resolutions. I was fully asleep in bed my 10:30pm on New Year’s Eve (thank you pregnancy) and did not wake up until 8:30am the next morning. I am officially no fun anymore. Thankfully, I don’t feel like retching anymore. I’m still pretty tired though.

So I had my Integrated Prenatal Screening at 12 weeks. This included the ultrasound where I got to see the baby, and a blood test. I have another blood test next week, and then a final ultrasound at 18 weeks. This is all for the IPS. The purpose of this screening is to detect neural tube defects, Trisomy 18 and Downs Syndrome etc.

Here’s what I don’t get.

I do not get the results of the test until I am 18-20 weeks along. At this point, if they detect that there might be a problem, you have the option of going for genetic counselling and then having an amniocentesis done. If they still think there might be a problem with the baby, you can choose to terminate the pregnancy. What the fuck. By that point I will be HALF WAY through my pregnancy. How would I make the decision to terminate at that point??? How could I terminate at that point???

So why did I take this test? I actually have no idea now. When I first started, I thought I would get the results right away. At that stage (12 weeks) I think it would have been much easier to make a decision to end a pregnancy with a damaged fetus. At 20 weeks, I will be doing no such thing. I know worrying will not help so I am trying to relax and think positively.

Sometimes I think that knowing so much about our pregnancies can be a curse. I think we start to expect that, because they are able to offer us so much information, they should be able to give us the reassurance we want when we want it. This of course is not the case. I take my prenatal vitamins and eat healthfully; I exercise and get plenty of sleep. This is all I can do. My grandmother said to me the other day that when she was having babies they didn’t know about folic acid supplements or the effects of alcohol and smoking on the fetus and her kids turned out just fine. Actually, I think she even accused me of being dramatic. You know I probably am being dramatic. I think I need to stop reading about all the scary things that can happen and start enjoying my second trimester, cause it just gets more uncomfortable from here.

Oh, I now have a bump. Yay!