Baking Sourdough and Other Thoughts

Dear Antibiotics,

I just wanted to say stank you smelly much for the lovely yeast infection that you've given me. It is just what I needed as I begin to recover from the other infection in my chest. I have to hand it to you because you are one hell of a multi-tasker. But if it isn't too much to ask, can you please focus on removing the mucus from my lungs rather than moving on to my innocent vajayjay?

Sincerely,

KC


I'd love to say I'm on the mend but I now have a new battle to contend with. I am itchy and red down there (but no strange odor) and have the infamous cottage cheese discharge. Except it's a little more lotion-like than chunky but you get my drift. It's not fun. Thankfully, Monistat 7 is one of the "safe" drugs on my OB list so I've been able to get a little relief while I finish out the rest of my antibiotics. But it is taking everything in me not to scratch myself while I'm hidden in my corner cubicle. No one would notice, right?

When it came time to insert the cream with the applicator, I suddenly felt like a virgin. It's been too long since I've had to push anything up there so it felt like new territory. I found myself questioning how far I should actually go, the angle I should tilt, etc. For a moment on the bathroom floor, I became 14 years old again. Taking the belly out of the equation, of course.

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Extensive p-word talk below

Tomorrow is the Level II ultrasound and I am quite nervous. I just want to hear that everything is okay. That our little man is perfectly healthy, with all organs present and accounted for. With each day that I feel Sunshine, I become more and more attached. Not only to the baby himself but to the future and to all the hopes and dreams I have for transitioning from mother-to-be to mother. I have more to lose with every moment that passes and it terrifies me.

I have decided to boycott Dr. Google. My fears have now graduated from miscarriage to incompetent cervix, stillbirth, placental abruption and cord accidents. Morbid, I know. Why is it so hard to believe that I can be on the good side of statistics for once? I don't want to spend all my time worrying - which is what I've done for nearly half of this pregnancy - but my instinct is still self-preservation. I do deeply enjoy moments and milestones but I'm still waiting for someone to pinch me and tell me that the universe was just kidding. Seriously. I'm not that special. Am I? What makes me so lucky when so many of my comrades are still waiting or still suffering? Could this baby really be for someone else and there was a mistake? I have a hard time accepting the great things in my life but no problem accepting the bad. I'm used to being beaten down - not being told that I'm "fine" or "normal". So, I have to work on letting go of this hold IF has on me. I want to believe that this has a great chance of succeeding. Really believe it rather than trying to merely convince myself.

Once the baby is born, I'm sure the worry isn't going to fade. It will transition again from the topics above to SIDS, choking, getting hit by a car, etc. Motherhood seems to be a state of perpetual worry.

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Last night, my fears were eased for a moment when I felt the first BIG kick. On the lower right side of my uterus. No mistaking it. I was just laying on the sofa, propped up against a pillow on the computer. It didn't hurt but it took me by surprise because it was so strong. I've felt the taps and flutters. The feeling like when you get butterflies from driving fast down a steep hill - but lower in the tummy. This was totally different and I knew immediately what it was. It made me so proud. My little boy is growing stronger. He has a long way to go but he is showing me that he can make it.

I must have faith. I may not trust my body but I trust my baby. And everytime he kicks me, I know he is telling me it is going to be okay.