No, that isn't our nickname for the new baby.
It's my alter-ego.
Pleased to meet you. But, uh, forgive me if I don't shake hands with you right now - swine flu, and all. Sure you understand. And, actually, would you mind just stepping back another foot or so? Thanks.
Chicken Little is in full mode inside my head, squawking and flapping about and running around like mad. I look at my beta, right on target, just where I wanted (even though it doesn't much matter, as the doubling is the important thing and I know that), and think - but why isn't it higher? If I got a faint line on a less-sensitive test (ignoring the no line on the clinically sensitive test), then shouldn't it be higher? Why wasn't it higher? I saw other people who had b/w done on 11 dpo and theirs was way higher than that. How come? - As you see, Chicken Little completely ignores the central point that half of pregnant women who test at 11 dpo don't have enough hcg to even trigger a faint positive on a test, so I'm doing just fine to get a clear positive.
And then there are the symptoms. Chicken Little has me poking my boobs to see how sore they are and regretting that I didn't vomit into the sink this morning. Never mind that the boob soreness comes and goes throughout the day and my nipples are visibly more prominent and darker. Never mind that I don't like vomiting and have developed quite the willpower to avoid it over the course of my life. No no. Chicken Little says that my progesterone may be low, since I stopped taking the Vitex, which should have been boosting it. And I didn't have my progesterone checked and maybe I should have, because what if it is too low and I start to miscarry? I could have gotten a progesterone rx and maybe stopped it. Maybe I should call back and ask for additional bloodwork. - As you see, Chicken Little is driving me insane. I had a conversation with myself in which I said, "Self. Come on now. You know better than this. Symptoms come and go. They are not going to be exactly the same everyday, you know. And Self, do you feel the same way every day when you aren't pregnant? No! Some days you feel hungry or tired or happy or sad. Pregnancy is the same way and you know it!"
It doesn't much seem to matter. I tell myself everything I know and have repeatedly said to others. It makes very little difference. Chicken Little is still in there, flapping around. It's becoming quite exhausting. I find myself arguing with myself for extended periods of time. I find myself unable to relax or find much pleasure or joy in this. I hear Chicken Little saying, "It's still too early and so much can go wrong, and I'll relax when my period is late (that's today, btw) and when I get to 4 weeks, after the next beta comes back on schedule, after 5 weeks, after 6 weeks, after a h/b, after 9 weeks . . ." The question is obvious - will I ever relax into this and enjoy it?
I catch myself referring to the pregnancy, not the baby, as if that will provide some detachment should I lose this one too. I find myself not wanting to think about when the big u/s will be or talk about the edd or think about buying maternity clothes or whether it's a boy or girl.
Overall, I have a good instinctual feeling about this pregnancy that I didn't have with the other two. It feels good, despite my constant worrying. But you know me, not so good with the hoping, this one. I read and repeat the Success After Loss mantras that I saved long ago. I repeat to myself the things I've said many times to others and which I know to be true myself - you cannot shake a good pregnancy, and you cannot keep a bad pregnancy. Nothing I can do right now can change the course of this pregnancy. Worrying will not change the outcome of this pregnancy. What will be, will be. Even with my history, the odds are on my side (although . . . I've always been on the wrong side of the odds - a .04 % chance of a cervical ectopic, ffs). My previous history doesn't determine the success of this pregnancy. We will have the child we are supposed to have.
It buys me limited time only. Chicken Little is still in there . . .
(And please, please don't tell me not to worry. It's not that simple. If I could turn it off, I would. I'm driving myself, my husband, my mother, my friends crazy with this. There isn't an off switch.)