From heartburn to a heartbeat – My first trimester

So if you’re just tuning in, let me recap my previous post – I’M PREGNANT. Knocked up. With child. Baby on board. Yes, we are super thrilled to be adding to our family. And, DUDES, it has been so hard for me not to spill the beans these past months. But hearing all the horror stories and cautionary tales out there, we just felt it was right to make our big, blogging announcement after we heard Baby’s heartbeat. And last week at our 12-week appointment we finally heard it... That fast, strong, wonderful heartbeat that starts to make everything really real. We are having another baby.

And while it was never a question that Chris and I have always wanted to add to our brood and have a bigger family, but after nearly a year of trying to conceive Miss Taylor, you can say we were a bit shocked when we saw that blazing pink line after our second month of not not-trying.

And I’m not even kidding you, two days after finding out the bean was in my body, I became sick as a dog. SICK. AS. A. DOG. And I don’t ever remember being this sick with Taylor. I mean, I had bouts of morning sickness and exhaustion here and there, but nothing as severe as I had these first months. So if you were at all curious as to why I only posted four blog posts in September, it was most likely because I was alternating my time between having my head in the toilet and feeling like I was stapled to the couch. And I can remark upon it with humor now that that fabulous second-trimester energy is taking over, but at the time it was pretty awful. But THANK GOODNESS for Disney Channel, Nickelodeon and Sprout, and giant coloring books, Play-doh, and building blocks. Because keeping my two-year old occupied while feeling like doo-doo would have been impossible without all of that artillery.

And on top of the around-the-clock nausea and fatigue, I had heartburn absolutely radiating through my body at levels comparable to the surface of the sun. Which made it pretty much impossible for me to consume anything other than applesauce, baked potatoes, string cheese and purple-flavored Gatorade. And that’s why I actually LOST weight in the first few weeks of being pregnant. I mean, not even ice cream sounded good. And that’s pretty much the same as Taylor refusing gummie snacks. Not natural.

And I know what you might be saying now, that because this pregnancy is so different than when I had Taylor in my belly that I might be having a boy. Well, we’ll just have to wait and see. And when I say WAIT, that’s what I mean, because we’re totally waiting until the big push to find out the gender. And we’re not just doing this to torture the grandparents, Chris and I talked about it and feel like you don’t get many big surprises in life, and this is going to be one of them.

So the first four weeks came and went, I had my initial doctor’s appointment and saw the sea monkey swimming in my belly. And even though this is our second time around, it was still truly amazing to watch the flutter of it’s itty-bitty heart, the outline of the spine and the beginnings of the arms and legs. It really makes you sit back and realize how truly miraculous this whole process of life is. Because at that moment, actually SEEING this baby inside my body and then going home and being able to squeeze my precious two year old, I am reminded how truly blessed Chris and I are with these two, amazing miracles.

And it may sound corny, but seeing that heartbeat during the eighth-week really made the morning sickness and exhaustion and indigestion seem worth it. And for the past month the nausea, fatigue and heartburn has become much more manageable, almost routine in a way. If that’s how I have to start my day – Oh well! If my body forces me to take an hour nap every afternoon – I can think of worse ways to spend my time. And if this Baby doesn’t want me to eat fried chicken or spicy bean dip – Well, let’s just say I have another six months to indulge in calories. See, I’m done complaining. Because if the end result of this first trimester is another prize like Taylor, then I can’t complain about this process of motherhood at all. Yep. No more whining, no more pouting and no more feeling sorry for myself. Well, at least until they are both teenagers.