Anxious Isn't The Word

*Warning: This post may contain material offensive to those still in the trenches. If you don't want to read an infertile crazy-person bitch about pregnancy, feel free to skip this post and come back later. No hard feelings, I promise. 

Pregnancy after IF is hard. Pregnancy after IF and RPL is ridiculously hard. And yes, I'm well aware that I am still "barely" pregnant, and that the hard stuff is yet to come. But seriously, I think I'm losing my fucking mind. 

I am so, so anxious. And scared. Scared doesn't even begin to encompass how I feel. I am terrified. I wake up worried, and go to sleep exhausted from fear. I can put it off intermittently throughout the day, but since my days right now consist of naps, blogs, Candy Crush, and Google -- well, you do the math. I'm so ready to go back to school (two more weeks!) just to have something else to occupy my thoughts during the day. 

I'm just over six weeks, which is an accomplishment in itself. My first and third pregnancies were over by now. So, in theory, I should be breathing a sigh of relief, right? I'm not bleeding, or cramping, and I still have some, albeit mild, symptoms. I should be able to assume that good things are happening. It's that second pregnancy, that missed miscarriage that I never saw coming, that continues to fuck with me three goddamn years later. 

I had no signs that one had ended. A tiny amount of spotting, then nothing. No cramps, no bleeding. The nausea continued full-force, up to and including the day that I learned that my baby no longer had a heartbeat, and had died weeks --WEEKS-- earlier. 

How do I know that this one is any different? I don't, and that's why I'm so freaked out. I don't trust my body to do what it should, whether that's in regards to maintaining a pregnancy, or recognizing that it's over. 

I've tried so hard to maintain positive thoughts. I've visualized a successful ultrasound a thousand times. I've imagined bringing my baby home in the spring. I've started researching baby wearing and co-sleeping and trying to decide what we might need to purchase in the coming months. I'm TRYING, really and truly I am. But I just can't shake the fear. 

I had a pink tinge the other day - very, very, light, and just once. It hasn't recurred, despite excessive TP checks and way too thorough analysis of my nether-regions. It is probably nothing more than my cervix being irritated by the progesterone suppositories. It's likely FINE, but it's amazing how quickly my brain just goes, "Okay, that's it. It's over." And then I spend HOURS looking for reassurance, which absolutely no one can give me. Because it's either going to be fine, or it's not. And no one, no expert or anecdote, can tell me which one it's going to be. I simply have to wait and see, and that my friends, feels like pure torture. A torture that is guaranteed to last at least six more weeks, if not longer. 

(And I know you mean well, but please don't suggest an early ultrasound. At this point, a heartbeat may or may not be detectable, a gray area that I don't want to subject myself to if I don't have to. I'd rather wait a few more days until we can be sure of what we should be seeing.) 

Even as I write this, I debate whether or not to post it. No one wants to hear a preggo complain, least of all those of you still struggling so hard to get here. And while I don't believe in a higher power directing this pregnancy, there's a primal, superstitious part of me that doesn't want to jinx things by making my fears concrete, by giving them more footing than they deserve. I WANT to relax, and I want to enjoy this time. I really, honestly do. 

I just don't know how to make that happen. 

I told my sister today that if I lose this pregnancy too, I will positively lose my shit. 

What I didn't tell her is that I feel like I already have.