Dr. Blair is really nice; Reni was right. He came in wearing a green tie with a cartoon character on it. The appointment was inconclusive.

I took the entire afternoon off. We hung out at Jim & Joy’s. Brett worked on his truck (he broke a tie rod end yesterday) and I hung out in the front yard with Joy and Ella. Ella really liked being outside in the spring breeze. We got me a bean burrito from Taco John’s and then drove to Keosauqua. I checked in, filled out some forms, and then went with the nurse.

She weighed me, asked me about my bleeding, had me pee in a cup (the cups there are weird and they come with a towelette you’re supposed to clean off with BEFORE you pee), took me to an examining room and took my pulse and blood pressure the old fashioned way. Apparently they don’t use digital instruments there, except thermometers. The good news is that I had lost a little weight on my diet, I’m 152. She asked me my pregnancy history. She asked me if we were trying to get pregnant, if I’d be upset if I miscarried. She left to get the doctor.

The doctor came in and we just talked. He said that an ultrasound could very easily be inconclusive this early and that if I waited two weeks we’d definitely be able to see something. He said my history of miscarriages worried him. He said he was sorry he couldn’t give me better news, but that it was too early to do anything. I could have had a pelvic exam, or blood testing, or an ultrasound, but they probably would have been both expensive and inconclusive so I decided to wait two weeks and get an ultrasound then.

I still feel pregnant, and I’m still bleeding lightly. The pregancy test was a faint positive. Apparently I’m not making much of the hormone they test for, hGC, but yet still enough to have all the side effects like tender breasts etc. I looked up some herbs this morning… Wild yam should help me balance my hormones, and I also want to boost my vitamin E intake for awhile. We’ll see if it helps.

Brett, on the drive home, was awesome. He basically told me that it’s up to me, that I need to get happy and committed to the idea to make it work out. I told him I’d never wanted a baby before, that I’d always thought it sounded like a dumb idea. When we got home, he asked me (again) if I was going to call my mother and I realized that I perceive my mother to be a person who was resentful of mothering or of having to be a mother. I don’t know if it’s true, but I feel like that’s how she felt. She’s told me herself that she only likes little babies, not children, so right there you have a lot of parenting that isn’t joyful.

I felt like I was with Amma, my heart was feeling so out of sorts and traumatized. I felt like I was being presented with this opportunity to BECOME ENGAGED with this event and my life. I’ve been removed from so much for so long. The opportunity to reengage freaks and scares me. I want to commit, but I’m afraid to want and lose the baby. Yet I do want the baby, and I’ve been praying for the baby, and visualizing Mother’s feet in my womb, and saying, “I can’t surrender to Your will, because I want the baby to live so much.”

The doctor told me that if I lose this pregnancy that I should go for testing, that with this many miscarriages there’s something not right, perhaps something simple that can be helped. That weirded me out. All of my sexual life I’ve been trying to avoid getting pregnant, and twice I’ve even killed babies, and now… I might be desperately trying to get pregnant. That would be so unfair.

I sat on the couch after we got home and felt weird. I told Brett I’m selfish and resentful, that I’m probably not the best mom material. He kept trying to reassure me that I’d be a good mother, I finally asked him how he knew that and he replied that people with a lot less to offer than we have are popping kids out right and left. He said it in such a way that he made me realize I was obsessing on small, weird, sick concepts instead of the big picture: life is what you make it, and it’s not that hard, and our kid will turn out all right. I felt weird, because I’m usually not the one trippin’ on a kinky concept. I felt strange to be the one who was. Usually I’m busy looking down my nose at others who are kinkin’ out.

I’ve spent a lot of time looking down my nose. At the very least, this process is humbling my haughty ass. I’ve looked down at women who were eating McDonalds when pregnant, who have said things I deemed to be unmotherly while pregnant, who cared a lot about babies and pregnancy when I thought they didn’t have any good reason to be breeding… I am an intolerably judgemental person, and this process is letting me see these things. I pray they stick, that I actually learn something.

Herbs

“Wild yam is supposed to be excellent in aiding the production of progesterone. You can make a tea of 2 parts wild yam, 1 part black haw and 1 part cramp bark. Another tea that might be helpful is 3 parts cramp bark, 1 part black haw and 1 part false unicorn root.”

Today I have a squeeze bottle full of red raspberry tea that I made last night before bed. It tastes good to me, even thought it actually tastes like dirt. Herbs have that way about them. It’s 9:43 and I’m having mild cramping again. The blood is bright red, not brown, and although it’s slow it’s constant. I found an affirmation yesterday that made that feeling in my heart, the feeling by which I know a thought is true: I want to be the servant of this baby, it would be the highest honor to serve this person like God. I need to learn to serve, to do seva, to find beauty in taking care of others instead of being angry all the time that people are so thoughtless and sloppy and heedless of my needs.

I am awful about taking care of others. I resent doing Brett’s laundry, paying all the household’s bills, doing others’ dishes, being out of something because someone else used it and didn’t replace it… these are deep flaws I carry. I compare my current life to what my life would be like if I were utterly, heartbreakingly alone, and I get angry that I’m losing so much of my way to others all the time. I forget to be thankful for the love I receive. I think, “I’m not getting enough for ME. If I lived alone, I wouldn’t have to put up with this.” I told Brett that my mind works that way and asked if it was weird, and he said, “Yes, it is. It’s very weird.” And he meant it.

Later, though, even after I’d revealed how ugly I really am inside, he still said he loved me. And I believe he meant it. I used to look down on him for not being spiritual, for not believing in God. Now I know he doesn’t need to, he’s so much better formed than I am. I NEED to believe in God or I’d be irredeemable, unloveable, and heartless. I am so grateful that Mr. Brett loves me, he’s a remarkable person.

He had a remarkable mother, too, though. She liked being a mother, at least. I’m so afraid that I won’t like it, that I’ll be resentful and it will be a permanent state… Brett said I shouldn’t think like that, that it really only lasts about 12-13 years, and after that they’re people, you just help them along. THAT’S the attitude I want to cultivate.

I’ve asked Amma to save this baby. I am saying my new affirmation of service. I think Brett may want this baby more than I do, and the demon in my mind says, “Well, sure he does, it’s easy for him, he doesn’t have to do any of the hard parts, he can drink and smoke and go out to bars, and I have to gestate and give birth and care for this little person 24/7 for years and years, and he can come and go as he pleases.” What if I can’t fucking hack it? What if I’m not a womanly woman? What if I’m just too selfish?

I don’t know if I can really mean it, I don’t know at all. How can you really mean it when you beg God to take away your freedom and autonomy in exchange for a love you might not be good enough to feel? But I am recognizing my flaws and I want to transcend them, outgrow them, outlove them, and I want to mean it. I’m trying. And if I don’t try fast enough, this baby will bleed out.

I have been realizing that I wanted pregnancy to HAPPEN to me, so that I could be the victim of it. As in, ‘Oh, I never wanted this! this just happened!’ Those kinds of feelings wouldn’t make for a very happy child.
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