I was thinking of not posting about this, but I remembered why I started this blog to begin with: I said I wanted to share my perfectly imperfect life with other people, in the hopes that I can send out the message that life can suck sometimes, but it’s okay. So it only seemed apt that I share aspects of my life that I would rather forget.

Over a month ago, I found out I was pregnant. A few weeks after that, I found out that the pregnancy isn’t viable; It’s been a whirlwind of events and emotions since.

2 LINES, BABY! 

It’s no secret that we weren’t having an easy time conceiving. Finally, after consulting with my OB about our options, we decided, if it’s not for us, it’s not for us. So we opted to not push through with fertility treatments.

Then there it was. 2 distinct red lines. I went out of the bathroom and quietly handed Moe the test. He was in such a state of disbelief that he went straight out and bought 5 more pregnancy tests.

In the course of 24 hours, I took all 5 tests and all of them came out positive.

 

PANIC MODE 

When it finally sunk in, disbelief turned into panic.

Like I said, we were resigned to the possibility that we might not have a baby. We’ve even convinced ourselves that we were probably better off not having one anyway.

I made a conscious effort, after the harrowing few months that I’ve been through, to start signing up for activities that basically screamed, “tita’s out to play..” (ok that sounded nasty. This just basically meant I finally decided to get lasik surgery and planned a few PG trips.)

Also, I gave up all attempts to stop smoking and was basically ingesting all sorts of toxins in my body. Hell, I had a glass of vodka the night before I found out! And OMG! I freakin’ lined up in City Hall to register to vote for 8 whole hours!

What if I broke my baby?!?

The only time that I felt completely appeased was when I saw a doctor. She assured me that everything was fine, and that I really had nothing to worry about.

But then, those physical worries gave way to more panic attacks.

Now isn’t the right time to get pregnant.

Was I even ready to be a mom? I’ve seen my friends devote their entire lives to their children… My child will be completely neglected in comparison. Or worse, what if I turn into a tiger mom? She (I was convinced baby was going to be a girl) will hate me.

 

And what about Moe? He swears like a freakin’ sailor. Baby will inherit his potty mouth!

Plus, we’re only starting to come out of our funk. What’s going to happen to us when the pressure of raising a child comes into play? I’m going to be a single mom!

And dude, where will we get the money to send her to school? All the good ones cost a fortune! She will end up at some fake school, like Mother Goose of the Child Jesus or something.

AND THE EXCITEMENT TAKES OVER… 

 Despite all my apprehensions however, I can’t deny that I was absolutely, uncontrollably overjoyed and excited.

We both were.

You see, cray thoughts aside, I knew I was dying to be a mother. And Moe, despite his potty mouth was willing to move heaven and earth for our child.

So regardless of all our financial and practical concerns, we were beside ourselves with glee.

We downloaded every pregnancy app available (even the paid ones! Because my baby deserves a 7.99 usd app!) to make sure we knew what to expect when expecting. I was poring through sites looking for the cutest, safest baby stuff. I was devouring baby forums looking pregnancy and parenting tips.

Moe was talking to my tummy every morning and making sure I drank my vitamins everyday.

Even Manang was extremely excited. She bought me a hella lot fruits with her own money because they were “good for the baby”.

We had names all picked out.

 

MY MOTHERLY INSTINCTS…

Still, despite the building excitement, I cannot deny that instinctively I knew there was something wrong.

My symptoms, instead of intensifying were slowly disappearing. From being a ravenous, narcoleptic harridan who gave Moe hell for not buying me red hotdog in the middle of the workday, my appetite and sleeping habits started going back to normal. (Ok, I was still cranky, but cranky has always been my resting state).

But  I  wasn’t showing the “usual” warning signs. I wasn’t even spotting.  And, although it was too early to see the baby during my last ultrasound, the doctor assured us everything was forming perfectly. I just had to go back after a couple of weeks to check for a heartbeat. She also gave me a prescription that would help keep the baby “in place” for good measure.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong however. I told Moe repeatedly that I wanted to stop taking my meds. I was certain that the baby had no heartbeat and felt that the only reason why I wasn’t spotting was because I was taking the medicine. Ofcourse, I had no scientific basis for this feeling. So we chalked it up to pregnancy nerves.

I also had the strangest dream around my mom’s birthday: My mom was dying and we had all gathered around to say goodbye. But instead of my mom, I saw myself saying goodbye to a baby. That was around a week before I went back to see the doctor.

 

My second ultrasound confirmed my worst suspicions: Baby had no heartbeat. I was told to go on bed rest for a week just to give the baby a chance to grow.

After what seemed like the longest seven days since Genesis, we went back to the doctor. Still no heartbeat.

We were completely devastated…

2ND PART WILL BE CONTINUED IN THE NEXT POST….