Everything has been different with this, my third, pregnancy. There were differences in my previous two but definitely more similarities. Naturally, this made me go into panic mode.
I didn't have an 8 week ultrasound as my previous OBGYN usually performs, so when the midwives didn't find the baby's heartbeat at 9 weeks... I freaked out.
Morning sickness never came to me as it did with Jake and Siena's pregnancies. The phrase I've heard so many times, "morning sickness means everything is alright," went from being a consolation to a stab in the heart. Everything is probably not alright then, I told myself.
Seventeen weeks came and then eighteen, nineteen, and twenty. This baby just would not kick me. Every once in a while I would feel a faint nub on my stomach but never repeated or regularly enough for me to find peace.
My weight gain has been slow and not so steady. I expected to immediately blow up with my third baby but every time I weigh myself at the prenatal appointments, the increase is minimal. I know the grass is always greener on the other side, but since all the other common pregnancy things have been almost non-existent, gaining more weight would be consoling to me. I'm working on it. My thanks to Ben and Jerry.
Lastly, the nesting instinct is nearly non-existent. I feel like I'm not even myself any more. My husband is quite happy about this one.
Before every appointment I have found myself preparing (as much as I can) for the possibility that the midwife might not find a hear beat. I'm never "okay" with it, of course, but I acknowledge the possibility.
Twenty- two weeks later I'm finally more at peace than in the beginning. The midwives have assured me that everything is fine and that it's on the spectrum of normal. It must be a very broad spectrum. My last appointment showed that I had gained a respectable 5 pounds in five weeks. Solid. I celebrated with a burger from Five Guys. Duh.
The baby has been kicking away when it feels like it. On a recent night I woke up at 4am thanks to another child making his way to my room and that's when I realized the baby was kicking. Of course it was 4am so my initial thought was "this kid better not be up at this hour when he is outside of the womb" but I'll take the kicks whenever I can get them. They're like fist pounds telling me he/she is okay in there.
I still have to talk myself out of ungrounded fears and trust that everything is expected to be fine.
Worrying is truly worthless. I come up with scenarios in my head that come to life before me and take over my thoughts. Tackling imaginary beasts is exhausting and leaves me inept for a real struggle so I try to just shoo them away.
So for now... I wait for the kicks and simply look forward to meeting this babe in four months.