I told my boss today about my pregnancy. I didn't really want to, but I felt I needed to since I'll be having lots of rapid-fire appointments over the next six weeks.
It went well, except I broke down crying at one point. I *HATE* crying in front of people. I hate it more than just about anything in the world. But I couldn't help it - it's so scary not knowing whether the baby is still okay or not. The next week and a half are going to be particularly rough because it's the same time period as when Quinn died, and I had no idea. And there's no way for me to have any idea, at least not until my next scan on the 26th.
I panic when I feel perfectly fine. I cheer when I feel sick. It's like Bizarro-world. This morning, since I got up, I was feeling "less pregnant", whatever that is, and getting quite upset about it. About fifteen minutes ago my midmorning almost-motion-sickness-feeling-of-unease started up and it was the best thing to happen all morning.
And yet I know that none of this means anything. People have healthy pregnancies with no sickness at all, and losses when all signs point to A-OK. I just have to listen to my own advice, and take it one day, one hour, one step at a time.
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