No, not Dr. Amanda…Drama Amanda. Dramanda. Making mountains out of molehills since 1984.
As you may imagine, my beta was good today: 19,963. Not that it was an easy thing to get – I called the lab at 7:30 this morning and had them re-fax the results. Called New Hope at 9 to see if they got them…they didn’t. Called the lab back to re-fax ONCE AGAIN. Called New Hope. Alas, they had them! Not that they could tell me what they said. I begged the receptionist to hand-deliver them to a nurse and tell her to call me, “preferably before midnight.” I finally got an email at 1:30. Not bad. But by then my poor brain was about to explode. I was also experiencing cramps, which of course I talked myself into believing was the big M/C. But now that I have good news, I’ve managed to swing it around to “growing pains.” Hopefully.
So I live to see another day! But you know what this means…Ultrasound. Monday. And not at New Hope this time (because I don’t have any vacation time accrued yet). Instead, I’ll be going to a lab, where they won’t be able to give me results in real time. So I’ll have to wait for New Hope to call with the outcome (if they get the fax, of course). So I could potentially be sitting at my desk in an open cubicle and hear the “no heartbeat” news. What will I do? Get up and leave? Fall to the ground? No, none of these things. Because this baby will have a good, strong heartbeat and that phone call will be happy, happy, happy. Right?!
And in more overreacting for no reason news… I talked with HR this morning (or more accurately, pounced on the poor woman the moment she walked into the building) and confirmed that we do get maternity leave coverage separate from Aflac. So the whole 10 month thing doesn’t matter. Phew! Again, my overreacting caused a bunch of unnecessary freak outs last night. All over nothing. I still need to save up since obviously it won’t be my full salary (did you know that legally they’re not allowed to pay you full salary for maternity leave? That’s so ridiculous!) but at least I won’t have to save the entire amount. And I’ll get more than 2 weeks. Thank God.
I feel a little silly about yesterday. I think the stress of this is really getting to me. We’re reaching a critical juncture here – 7 weeks. Last time that’s when I found out it was over. So even making it past that date will be significant. 9 weeks will be SUPER significant. 12 weeks will allow me to start actually breathing again.
Eric is ready to strangle me. I think it’s because he’s usually the “freak-outer” and I’m usually the “let’s calm-downer.” When I freak out, he freaks out on top of that, and the result it two crazy people yelling at each other over nothing. That pretty much sums up my night last night. What I really needed was for someone to tell me, “Calm down, everything will be OK.” But that’s not his style. He probably fancies himself a pragmatist, but I say he’s more of a pessimist. Always anticipating the worst possible scenario. That is great for managing expectations and not getting hopes up (therefore avoiding disappointment), but not when you have a wife one step away from a nervous breakdown. My neuroses that I work so hard on maintaining manifest themselves as extreme “bitchiness,” as he calls it. I do; I definitely do take it out on him. Because he’s there. But I can’t help it. I just need to make it to December and I swear things will be so much better.
OK, I said the cramps were no longer worrisome but I totally lied. They’re freaking me out. Anyone else cramp up
around 6 weeks?
If anyone needs me, I’ll be hiding out under the covers for about a week. See ya.