This is an email I wrote to a friend this morning:
…I’m doing okay today. Just not going to worry. Hah! So I have some kind of parasite, bad things could result. My doctor wouldn’t tell me what b/c she didn’t want to scare me, so I went around gleaning bits of info and scared myself. Saw psychic chiropractor yesterday and she said baby is fine, and I’ll heal from the damn parasite. Am going to believe her, though one friend told me her neighbor had toxoplasmosis and carried her baby to term and it died two years later — and that it totally halts fetal development, so the baby can be born with no brain.
But really, after sleeping and weeping all week, yesterday I just asked Scott if I could go back to being happy about the pregnancy. Well, maybe not back. It IS my tendency to WORRY about EVERYTHING. Spent at least a week being angry at my electrologist for using galvanic current instead of thermo whosiewhatsit, and at least that long angry at my facialist for putting cortizone cream on my brows after waxing — CORTIZONE? HELLO? Steriods, anyone?
Sigh.
So now I wait and hope the next round of tests reveals that I ingested the toxo a LONG LONG time ago. Back when I used to make Fred’s used cat litter into sandcastles with my tongue, and eat pork tartare for dinner after…
Am off to my last Pilates class this morning — giant achy boobs and nausea make that a not-so-fun activity; am hopefully switching to prenatal yoga next week.