It'll Be Worth It

**Warning: this post is going to be a bit raw and extremely long**

I don't know if I can verbalize how much I dislike hearing those words right now. "It'll be worth it". I know it will be worth it, but right now those are not the encouraging words I want or need to hear. I kinda feel like it's a cop out for someone who doesn't know what else to say. Let me back up.

In October of 2011, Alex and I had a pregnancy scare, i.e. we thought our birth control had failed and we thought we were pregnant. To both of our surprises, we were disappointed when we were not pregnant. For anyone that knows me, they know that I am a planner. I couldn't just get pregnant without a plan. We started talking time line, budget, jobs, house, everything. We started praying. Praying that when the time was right God would bless us with a child. Being a teacher, I wanted to deliver at the end of the school year/beginning of the summer so I would have all summer to nurse, spend time with my baby, and adjust. We got pregnant our first month of trying and we were ecstatic.

We then begin planning on who to tell first and how to tell them. Alex's sister, Erica, was in Paraguay for a semester and we decided we wanted to tell her first. We bought shirts for our dogs that said "Big Sis" (I know nerdy), and Skyped her. It was so exciting to be able to tell someone. We then sent the picture of the dogs in their shirts to my brother and his wife, Curtis & Kris, they were also very excited for us. After our siblings, we told our parents. We gave our moms gifts of Willow Tree Grandmother figures and for our dads I painted canvases that said "Great dads are promoted to Grandad". Our families were very excited for us, but quite disappointed that they couldn't shout it from the rooftops, since I was only about 6 weeks pregnant.

We had our first ultrasound at 9 weeks and it was amazing hearing our baby's heartbeat. We were slightly confused when they told us we were only 8 weeks pregnant. Quite frankly, I still think they are wrong with our due date. Remember when I mentioned being a planner, yea, I tracked my ovulation for 3 months before we actively began trying to get pregnant. I knew when I ovulated and knew when we conceived. I guess we'll find out when the baby finally gets here which due date is correct.

Shortly after that ultrasound, the morning sickness (what a joke of a name) began. I was sick all day. Meds didn't help any at all; they just made me not physically throw up, I still felt queazy all day. I would much rather just throw up than feel sick to my stomach all. day. long. The all-day sickness lasted until about 18 weeks, when we finally were able to find out the gender of our baby.

A precious, wonderful, healthy little baby boy: Aiden Kiff Greer. Alex said he knew all along, I had no clue one way or the other. We were so excited to have our ultrasound at 18 weeks. We got to see on screen our baby again. He was healthy. Everything looked wonderful: his measurements, his face, his two arms, his two legs, his spine, and even his penis. I know, that's weird, but as his mom, I wanted everything to be perfect. He was turning and spinning and moving all around. I still hadn't felt him move yet though. I could see him moving on the screen, but I couldn't feel him move inside me. That was a struggle. Several pregnant friends who were not as far as long as me had been feeling their little ones move for weeks prior to me. It was so hard whenever they would ask if I had felt anything yet and I hadn't. Then, I finally felt him. Alex was working nights and I was propped up on my belly and he moved. I called Alex in such excitement. Of course, he was then very excited to be able to feel Kiff move as well. Weeks go by and Alex can feel no movement. Alex reminds me that his buddy, whose fiance is due the week after me, has been able to feel his baby move for a week or so, which sends me crying hysterically. I wanted so badly for Alex to be able to feel our child, and of course he did, eventually.

Right after our ultrasound, when the "morning" sickness began to fade, I got sick. I got the crud that was going around. Somehow I managed to not get the flu when Alex had it for a week, but I got the crud, probably from my students, and IT was AWFUL. I couldn't take anything. I couldn't sleep because I couldn't breathe. I called my State Health Plans 24 hour nurses hotline to see if I could take a nasal spray (1 shot up each nostril was all that was keeping from a good night's sleep), and after waiting an hour for the nurse to call me back and answer her ridiculous questions, she informed me I probably had pneumonia and needed to immediately head to the ER. I had an emotional breakdown, again (and if I'm really honest, these emotional breakdowns come pretty regularly these days), followed by a night of worry and no sleep. The next day, I called my OB who called me in a prescription of Flonaze. Praise be to flonaze, because after 4 sleepless nights, I was able to sleep.

Things slowly began to look up. I finally started to get over the crud that I had after about two weeks. I was able to begin cooking, cleaning, and doing things besides sitting on the couch from 4 - 9 pm, because I could barely walk when I got home from work due to my back pains (I was going to the chiropractor, with the ok from my OB, twice a week). I truly felt like a wife again.

Then the past week hit. Last Wednesday I went in for my regular visit, with the addition of my glucose screening. This is a 1 hour test where you drink 50 grams of glucola (a real sugary drink) and then they test your blood. This test just gives an idea of where you fall on the gestational diabetes chart. It is non-conclusive, meaning, if you "fail" this test, it doesn't mean you have GD, it just means you have to take the three hour test, which is conclusive. I did fine with the glucola, they drew my blood, and then I almost passed out waiting for my room to see the OB. They pricked my finger and my iron levels were low: I'm anemic, no surprises there. I should probably mention here that about twice a week about 8 am, I get really light headed, fatigued, and dizzy and have to lay down in the workroom before first period. After I got some color back in my face and the room stopped spinning, we got to hear Kiff's heartbeat and he is doing very well.

The next day, I call for my lab results, and turns out I failed the glucola screening, meaning I have to take the Glucose Tolerance Test (GTT), the 3 hour test. No food 12 hours prior to the test, you go in they take a fasting blood sample, drink 100 grams of glucola, and then 3 more blood samples: one at one, two, and three hours. I took that this morning. For starters, I don't skip breakfast. I get sick if I skip breakfast, so needless to say, not having breakfast and getting blood drawn (usually pass out at the sight of needles), and 100 grams of sugar all before 9 am didn't go so well. I tried to hold the drink down. I knew if I threw it up, that would be it, a sick day wasted, and I would have to come back and try the test again. Hour one blood sample was suppose to happen at 9:45, at 9:30 I threw the entire glucola up. I notified the nurse that I hadn't kept it down and they called me back to reschedule the GTT. I was devastated. I hate needles, I hate real sweet stuff, but most of all I hate not knowing if my baby is getting everything he needs to continue growing healthy. Alex tried to ask me what they told me, but I just placed my hand up and pointed outside. As soon as I walked out the door of the OB, the tears came. I don't just mean simple tears down my cheek, I mean, the floodgates opened and I lost it.

Why me? Why am I the one to have the horrible pregnancy. If it's not one thing it is something else and I am so sick of the "when you hold your baby for the first time it will all be worth it". No crap. I know this. I know when I finally get to hold Kiff for the first time everything will have been worth it, but I'm tired of hearing that. That does not make me feel better, it actually makes me feel worse because that means I have to keep looking at all the pictures of everyone else's babies on facebook, twitter, and instagram, and have envious feelings because they get to hold their child and no longer be pregnant. I know I should want my baby to stay in as long as he can, he's safe in there (I hope), I can protect him. The longer he bakes, the healthier he will be when he is born, but all I can hope is that he will come early. I'm tired of being pregnant. I'm tired of my back hurting. I'm tired of being a sucky teacher because I feel like crap all day. I'm tired of being a sucky wife because I can hardly move by time I get home. I hate not being able to see my feet. I hate feeling like I waddle everywhere I walk. I hate people feeling like just because I'm pregnant, I'm the new Buddha and they can just rub my belly, like it will give them good luck (Side Note: if a pregnant woman wants you to touch her belly, she will let you know, in the mean time if you didn't put it in there, don't touch it). But most of all I hate feeling this way because I feel like I am ungrateful for being able to be blessed enough to get pregnant on the first try, to be able to get pregnant at all, or to be able to (hopefully) carry our child to full term. I feel guilty for feeling this way because I would never want our son to feel like his mom didn't want him or regrets the decision to have him. I feel awful when I express to Alex my desire to never get pregnant again.

I am so thankful for the blessing of being able to get pregnant and carry our child. I am a part of an elite group of women who have gone before me. I thank God everyday for our child. I thank God for an amazing husband who is so supportive and holds me when I cry and when I'm being a bit ridiculous. A husband who helps with the housework when I just can't seem to stand on my feet any longer. Who doesn't complain when I hog most of the bed or didn't cook dinner. He helps me off the couch because I feel so fat I can barely move or get up. He tells me I'm beautiful when I feel hideous. He tells me I can decorate however I want for the baby. Most of all, he loves me, he loves me, he loves me.

I know in the end, yes, everything will be worth it. I will hold my child and love him like a love I have never known. I will cry when my husband holds his son, the next generation. I look forward to my parents, and Alex's, meeting our child for the first time. I can't wait to see my brother hold his nephew. I can't wait for Kiff to say his first word or take his first step. Hit his first homerun. Meet his first love. Go to prom. Graduate. Go to college. Graduate again. Marry the woman God has chosen for him. I can't wait to see it all and soak it all in.

Now, some pictures to lighten the mood: