The End of the Innocence

I'm in what those of us who are obsessed with conceiving call the "two week wait". It's that time between ovulation and expected menstruation, when there's nothing you can do but think about peeing on a stick to look for hormones that may or may not be there, or may or may not be present in enough quantites for a home pregnancy test to detect. I have yet to go that far; my tight-waddishness precludes me from buying pregnancy tests in bulk, like some of the other women on the support forum I frequent for women who are trying to conceive after a miscarriage. I bought two pregnancy tests in November, I think because it was cheaper, and used one that gave us two lines. I didn't think I would need the other one for a long time.

The other test is still in the medicine drawer. I'm hoping to use it within the next two weeks, if evidence to the contrary doesn't get here first. Using this one won't be the same as last time. I'm still planning on getting out the egg timer, waiting for the results together and looking for that second line at the same time, but our reactions won't be the same. Sure, we'll be estatic and hopeful and scared, but we'll also be sad and cautious and grieving. I won't be able to relax until I reach that 10-week mark, and even then there will be that niggling thought at the back of my head, "What if I lose this baby, too?". It happened once.

I'm trying to remember how I felt the first time and if what I'm feeling now is similar or if it's just my imagination. All I really remember is being exhausted, counting down the time to the next nap, but that came later. I feel like I'm replaying a level: I've done this part before so it's all familiar, but my princess was in another castle. It's an exercise in futility, but with nothing else to do but wait, it's what I do. I'll be monitoring my symptoms more closely, too. Without morning sickness, it's a lot less obvious so the need for naps will be very reassuring.

So I guess I'm mourning the loss of the innocence of my first pregnancy. There will be a cloud over this one, and it's not fair to me, to Joe, or to the new baby, but I suppose it's the first lesson of life and the most difficult to learn. I'm not going to get to experience the unmitigated joy of the firsts, but I'm also not going to take for granted all the uncomfortable difficult parts, either. You will catch me complaining, because complaining is half the fun of being uncomfortable, but I will cherish every minute of it.