First Trimester Report

Well, it’s done. First trimester, that is. We’re through, we’re passed and all is well. As of today, I am officially 12 weeks and 3 days, and all scans, tests and other medical fun experienced in the last week indicate that bub is, in all ways, perfectly “normal”.

I swear, you don’t know how beautiful the word ‘normal’ is until you’re pregnant.

See, I’ve spent the bulk of first trimester feeling like a zombie with an anxiety disorder. I didn’t get hit by much morning sickness, the occasional queasy moment if I didn’t have breakfast early enough, but that was about it. No sore boobs, no big mood swings. My fellow commuters remained safe from my accidentally throwing up on their shiny shoes in a jam-packed morning commuter train.

But what I did get hit with was a constant, mind-numbing, limb-weighting exhaustion dragging through the days, until I couldn’t think, couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but sleep.

Which doesn’t always go well when you’re trying to hold down a full-time corporate managerial position and you can’t even tell work you’re preggas. Suffice to say, there were some moments there when I’d end up in the ladies’ loo just for the chance to close my eyes, if only for a few blessed minutes.

Hmmm, and while I’m on that subject – I’ve discovered the majority of available pregnancy websites, information sheets and books still have a tendency to warn of pregnancy exhaustion in the tones of “so ladies, make sure you take that afternoon nap, and if this isn’t your first pregnancy and you already have young children, find someone to babysit so you can get that extra sleep you need.”

Uh, yeah. And to them I say: oh, just bugger off with your outdated division of household labour, will you. It most certainly doesn’t help when you find yourself falling asleep in the your senior manager’s office while they’re trying to discuss capital budgets for the upcoming financial year.

Hmmm. Maybe I experienced some mood swings after all…

Anyway, that’s been me for three months. A zombie. With an anxiety disorder. Because the other stand-out memory of first trimester for me is… panic.

Well, not quite panic. But certainly a constant anxiousness that never went away. And sure, maybe that’s to be expected when you’ve been trying to get pregnant for something close to five years and it’s taken every medical intervention possible to make it finally happen. One’s ability to believe it’s actually real and that nothing is going to go wrong does become somewhat diminished, let me tell you.

It’s been a long five weeks since my last 7 week scan. During that time, a couple close to us suffered a devastating miscarriage. Then at about ten weeks my fatigue started to lift, so I wasn’t even feeling pregnant anymore. And I’m over 35. You don’t know how much of the pregnancy literature out there starts to scream “huge-high-massive risk for chromosomal disorder!!1!” once you hit the 35+ age group.

Suffice to say, by the time we turned up for the 12 week scan last Thursday, my nerves had kicked in. My old friend anxiety was really ramping up the panic party.

But all for naught. So thank your favourite deity, because all is well, all is excellent, all is perfect.

All is normal.

And I’ve got the pics to prove it… but I’ll save those for next time.

Kind regards

The Patient

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Published in: on July 30, 2011 at 4:04 pm  Comments (1)  

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