What's the Point of Tylenol?

There have already been so many times I’ve pondered here about normality. I’ve wondered why I cannot be normal, or what makes anyone normal to begin with. Driving home the other day I thought of how I often pride myself on not being normal. So why is it that in this instance, I still long for more of a sense of normality?

It's an interesting question. Part of me feels maybe it's because I want to know what it's like to not have to worry at all times. Not that there aren't plenty of people who have scares and worries throughout their pregnancies, but there certainly are those who haven't had issues and breeze through it all.

I wish I knew what that was like. I wish I had just started to feel a little nauseous one morning, then realized I was two weeks late, then peed on a stick, then had the happy jumping up and down dance when I got two lines or a little smiley face. Not three years of peeing on sticks prematurely and getting negative outcomes and crying and then going to work and finding out someone else was pregnant...

I want to get over it. Maybe that's why I'd like to be normal. I wouldn't feel this nagging, residual sadness whenever I hear about yet another pregnant coworker or friend or see happy families who are so young it seems impossible that they could even have children, let alone ones who are five years old, and maybe even two or three of them, and I want that, and how can they know how painful that longing is? I want to not know what it's like. I don't want to find misery in other people's joy anymore.

There was a meeting at work today, and I overheard a woman who works in another building telling the head of our department she's expecting. It was obvious when she sidled up to him - she's already showing. I could hear her saying this in the same saccharin voice most use when announcing their pregnancies to others, and, just, ugh. Oh, look, another person who's pregnant within the first year of marriage with no struggle at all. I mean, not that I know there wasn't a struggle. I just always assume everyone had it easier than me unless I know better.

I'm such a martyr sometimes it's disgusting.

Later in the meeting, the boss made it a point to make this woman announce to the entire room she's expecting. And he went on and on and on about it. Then he drew attention to the fact that one of the men in the department just became a father, too. That turned into a game of 20 questions, like what time she was born and how much she weighed and oh, hahaha, how little sleep is everyone getting now that she's born. Which led woman to be all, "Oh, now you guys are making me not want to have this baby," and everyone laughed, and I walked out of the room to go pee.

Maybe it's the opposite of martyrdom? Maybe I just don't understand why we have to congratulate people on procreating. Congratulations! You've fulfilled mankind's basic purpose for existing! You've done one of our most basic, animalistic acts that dolphins and dogs and ants can also do! We don't congratulate them for expanding their families, but you?  Yes, we can congratulate you! 

This must be part of my not being normal, too. I don't jump up and down and get overly excited when people announce their pregnancies, and I never have. I don't even think I often congratulate people because something about it feels fake. I don't talk to babies with baby talk nonsense. I just... don't. I'm just, once again, different.

Maybe I'd rather be congratulated on my talents, like writing (I was published this year!) or singing (I had a solo in my choir concert last month). Not a huge amount of people have supported those things. None of my friends have read and complimented my story. (Okay, maybe one or two, and don't take that as a cue to drop everything and read it now; you're reading this, that's enough). No one besides a few family members came to the choir concert.

But we sure know how to congratulate people on getting some.

Don't get me wrong, I have received great support from so many people about what I've been going through. People have come out of the woodwork to pray, send messages, ask me for updates. I really do appreciate that. But it has made me realize that we are much more willing to support each other in times of trouble and need than when things are going well. If people made half the effort to come see concerts and plays we're in or other such positive events that they do when we're at home on bed rest, it'd be nice.

Not sure why that is. Maybe we feel people need more support when they're down. Or maybe there's a part of us that's too jealous of others when things are going well to go out of our way to see them. Maybe some sick combination of both.

Just, the next time people invite you to whatever thing they want you to go to that's positive, maybe go out of your way to do it? It would mean so much to them.

And to return to move positivity, yes, I am still pregnant. Ha. That probably sounds ridiculous, but it was a worry I started to have after lack of monitoring for four weeks. Someone at work said I would know if there was a problem, but I'm not 100% sure that's accurate. I've discovered one of the downsides of IVF is you're monitored almost too closely. Having a transvaginal ultrasound every week of your pregnancy for the first 8 weeks gets you used to a comfort level that does not continue once your clinic dismisses you. It's not what women who have "typical" pregnancies get, either. For most, their first ultrasound is at 12 weeks, and, call me stupid, but I didn't know it would be three months before you got that sort of confirmation.

But I guess most people don't worry. They know they don't get their period, they might get a couple symptoms, and then yay, they're pregnant. They don't have to inject progesterone into their butts for two months to ensure their body produces the hormone since they didn't conceive naturally, and then once that's over keep shoving suppositories up their whoo-haas just to be safe for a few more weeks. Their bodies *mostly* do what they're supposed to because things were natural, or "normal," for them. Their eggs and sperm weren't spun around in a concentric dance, put together in a petri dish, and inserted by a third party.

Jon and I were positive, and positively anxious, for four weeks. But finally, last week, the big day came - the first ultrasound at the hospital. I decided I was excited that morning, and it turned out, I was excited with good reason. It was the fourth or fifth time we got to see our baby, but it was the first time she actually looked like a baby. I was watching on a monitor in the upper corner of the room while Jon watched over my shoulder. As soon as baby girl came into view, he jumped up, but I had to tell him to sit back down so I could see her. There were plenty of quiet happy tears shed, and even some laughter. She was pretty active, even throwing her arm back over her head at one point, which made us both giggle. Then I was told not to giggle since that would make her move more, and there are so many measurements they need to get. Someone had warned me they might not be able to get them all on the first try and I'd have to be called back, but they managed to get everything. While it was cool to see her, it was also a little weird to see her brain, heart, spine, and stomach. We swore we saw fingers and toes on her hands and feet, even if the nurse told us it was too early for toes. We still stand by the fact that we saw them. They printed us out a bunch of pictures - more for the pre-birth scrapbook. They also took blood out of my pointer finger with that handy dandy contraption that feels like you've been sucker punched in the finger. Not even kidding - it hurt so much worse than having blood taken out of my arm, and my finger was bruised for days afterwards. But for the most part, it was one of the best days of our lives. And it put our minds at ease for a few days.

I got a call on Tuesday about the blood work from the hospital. They told me I'm low risk for Downs syndrome and trisomy 13, but that was it. No update on hCG or progesterone. Maybe that'll come from the blood work I had done at a lab earlier the same week. I was disappointed in the bare bones results. We already know we're low risk for genetic disorders as we had extensive genetic testing done at the clinic. I just want someone to say, "Wow! Your baby looks awesome! You're in great shape!"

All of the doctors and nurses we've seen are treating us like this is run-of-the-mill. Like it isn't exciting. It's beyond normal. I understand there should be some degree of comfort in being treated in such a way, but more reassurance would be appreciated.

In the meantime, I'm waiting for that awesome (in the true sense of the word) and humbling feeling of creating another human life to kick in. My mother and at least one of my close coworkers have told me about how much they loved being pregnant. So far, for me, it's ranged from it feels like absolutely nothing, to I'm mildly to moderately uncomfortable. Nothing great thus far.

I know I've mentioned nausea, and that's happening a little less these days, which makes sense as I'm at 13 weeks now. (Opinions on whether the first trimester ends at 12 or 14 weeks seems to vary, but I'm right around there.) But it's not fun when it does strike. Then there are days where I'm just uncomfortable. My uterus just kind of aches or feels like it's sloshing around. Without fail, if there's a day I decide I am going home and I am definitely going to work out - that's the day I'll be in quite a bit of pain, thus putting my best intentions back on the back burner. When I roll over in bed in the middle of the night, which is frequent, things just feel weird.

Other strange aches and pains have cropped up. My chiropractor, who's amazingly knowledgeable, has told me it's because a pregnant body releases a hormone called relaxin, which is intended to make the act of giving birth easier, but it can also make your other muscles relax so much that everything in your body sags a little and sits inside you differently and hangs. That can cause pain, which is fun. Also fun - I'm getting mild headaches almost every day, which, according to What to Expect When You're Expecting, is also normal. But the crappy part? You can't take Advil when you're pregnant. No, you're stuck taking damn Tylenol.

And do you know what Tylenol does?

Absolutely nothing! Seriously! Why does it even exist?! It provides no relief. But I take it anyway, and I top it off with a latte or some instant coffee two or three hours later, and that tends to work.

I am so grateful that this is working, really. I would just like a) some bodily discomfort gone and b) some actual signs that I am definitely pregnant so I can stop doubting it.