It seems like not so long ago I was recovering from a pretty bad episode. Completely knocked on my ass, back to square one trying to anchor myself in this world and find a reason to roll out of bed in the morning. I still bear the pink scar on my upper arm from that bad week. Although it's been over 2 months it feels like it just happened.
But so much has changed since then.
The hubster and I talked for days about needing something to change. I emphasized how fed-up I was being stuck in the same cycles just waiting for my disease to bite me in the ass and losing track of the days I spent tucked away in the apartment, alone with the animals; I needed something to change as soon as possible.
We talked about me going back to work and back to school. Talked about moving. Even talked about starting a family and how we really wanted to have kids before our thirties (late-twenties kinda sneak up on ya). Even with all our ideas and considerations we felt at a loss. All our logic and rationale wasn't getting us anywhere, it was time for a leap of faith. Being spiritual people we felt compelled to launch our question out into the universe and see where the cosmic die would fall.
What should we focus on? Family or career? Do we put our dreams of having children on the back burner and focus on getting me back to school, into a career, and ourselves in a house? Or should we jump aboard the baby train while the eggs are fresh?
We rolled the dice and waited for the message.
Now it's months later and sure, my arm still carries the same mark and I still struggle to get out of bed in a timely manner but my mood is much better. I haven't been exercising as much and my diet was shot to hell the last several weeks but for a very good reason.
Today is the last day of my first trimester to be more specific. My baby is the size of a plum and has already turned my life upside down. Barfing until I pee my pants, eating nearly constantly, crying over wasted banana (in my defense it was making me barf) and generally being a hot, cranky, hormonal, unstable, nauseated mess!
The universe answered our question. We conceived on our first try. Our motion of faith, our roll of the dice got the directions we were needing.
Was it a crazy thing to do? Yep. Did it scare the bejeezus out of us? Yep. Are we happy with out decision? Absolutely.
It's a complicated journey that brought us here. My disease has certainly influenced us, how could it not? But we chose to conceive in spite of my illness and move on with life as best we can. We've learned a lot through all the dark days. Learned about each other, partnership, coping, and health. We've also learned that we must move forward. In some strange way my disease has helped me realize that sometimes I need to get out of my own way and just live the life I'm here to live and the hubster is ready to live that life with me.
I've found supportive midwives and they're well aware of my mental history and we're all on the same page; upbeat but cautious and realistic. I could relapse at any time and I'm at increased risk for postpartum depression and I accept those risks. I'm not down and out and life doesn't wait for anybody. I'm moving on to a new phase and hoping for the best while being ready to fight the worst. A little scared but so happy and awestruck as well (I think that's pretty normal!).
So that's the big news and probably why the blog has been a little dry lately-I haven't been able to write freely as I kept this secret! Now that we've heard the baby's heartbeat and I've made it through the first 12 weeks I feel safe letting the cat out of the bag and I'm excited to share my experience more fully from now on!
Come February (or late March) we'll have a new member in our pack! Hope he/she isn't allergic to cats!