Although I am still firmly planted on the schooner of seasickness, I once again have that nagging feeling like something’s awry in babyland. I think this is mostly centered around wanting to tell people REALLY BADLY and also knowing that I more than likely will not be getting any sort of visible or audible confirmation that things are peachy for maybe a few more weeks.

Having minor bleeding occasionally isn’t helping much, although the MW and nurse at my clinic insist that it’s normal with a yeast infection. I’m just wondering how I’m going to handle being that close to an ultrasound machine and not get the confirmation I so desperately want at my appointment on Tuesday.

The hubs isn’t coming with me either, which sucks. He’s getting a crown put on later that afternoon and apparently can’t afford to lose the time off. He says he’ll come to future appointments, but I’m kind of sad now. I already feel like crying because of it. I’m scared I’m going to get bad news that day and then he won’t be there to console me.

Go away bad thoughts, go away…

After this morning, I’m realizing that my prior concerns about spotting were lame in comparison to the issues I had today.

Last night was 2 of 7 that I have to use the dreaded cream and it’s less than desirable applicator. I was moving quickly to get ‘er done as it was 1:00am and I was needing to be asleep. I’d had some cramps on and off all evening and just wanted to get some shut eye. So, needless to say I was a little less than gentle “taking my medicine.” (I kind of scraped the wall of my vag with the thingy.)

This morning, our doorbell rang at quarter to nine. The hubs and I were sleeping – and I realized I had told the previous owner to come over and pick up some mail & packages delivered for him (nevermind we’ve been living here over a year). So I fly to the door, then run around trying to find the package. I finally give it to him and he starts up a convo, and all of the sudden I start to get black around the edges and my hearing starts to go. I keep talking and then excuse myself, say goodbye and sit my arse on the couch.

It was a close call – but sitting down stopped it from happening. Although I started in on the sweats and thought I was going to barf. Then I realized all this time running around was no good for the medicine downstairs and ran to the bathroom.

There was a pretty decent amount of spotting. Like, maybe I should call the doc spotting. And then again when I went later. No cramping this morning to go with it though, and it has since stopped.

Like, honestly? I had no idea I would be this stressed about this little bean so early on. I plan on telling the nurse when I go in for my first appointment in a week about the spotting – maybe they’ll give me some peace of mind and check it’s HB or something just so I know everything’s okay. It’s just killing me not knowing.

(the bloat and boob issues should be reassurance enough…but, no.)

For some reason today, I’m overcome with thoughts that something is wrong and this baby won’t be born. I can’t stop thinking about it. I mean, I still feel effed up and that’s good, but I feel like I’m going to go to that appointment in 2 weeks and they’re going to tell me that there’s no heartbeat or that something is awry.

I can’t shake it either.

I suppose everyone feels this way once in a while while pregnant, but I wish I could make it go away.

I wouldn’t normally post twice in a day, but this was too – dare I say funny? – not to share.

This morning, my breakfast included a slimfast shake (I have like, 4 left, I’m just trying to get rid of them), a bagel and half a smoothie.

Suddenly, out of the blue, I get a cramp. No, not the ute stretching cramp, but the OHMYGODIMIGHTCRAPMYPANTS cramp. I quickly get up and shimmy to the bathroom in the boots that make my feet kill, only to see that someone else is in there.

Let me pause this story to tell another. I have some issues with public restrooms. Such as, I hate it when the bathroom is empty aside from me and people pick the stall RIGHT NEXT TO ME. Dude – there’s like 4 others to pick from. Why you gotta pick the only one next to me? I also cannot, uh, clear the pipes – so to speak – with an audience. I just can’t. It grosses me out when others do it, and I can’t imagine putting anyone else through that situation.

So, imagine my dismay when I see someone’s feet in a stall. Fine, I think…I can just take care of my ever-full bladder and then wait patiently. So I do so, the other woman exits, and I begin to take care of business. I begin to realize I’m in it for the long haul when someone else walks in. Uh…GET OUT RIGHT NOW. I’m pretty much injuring myself at this point trying to contain myself. I begin to wait not-so-patiently again, and someone else walks in. GOD DAMMIT. I wrap things up, wash my hands…and start to shimmy to the other bathroom on our floor. There’s a “unisex (private) bathroom” across from the women’s room, I try it, it’s locked. DAMMIT. THAT is what I need. Some quiet time alone. Instead, I enter the women’s room.

I get in, it’s empty, I unzip, and someone walks in.

I start to think “I’m pregnant, I need to get over this. This won’t be the last time” but alas, I cannot do it…and at this point I’m pretty sure I’m going to have a horrid accident, in my William Rast jeans no less. I wrap it up again, and attempt the unisex restroom across the hall and it’s open. THANK GOD. I am now vowing to always attempt this restroom first. It was like my own little slice of toilet heaven.

I write this in hopes that I am not the only one in this situation, and also in the hopes that at some point I can look back and laugh at this scenario. Today was a close call. A very close call.