#Pre Pregnancy Symptoms

[bookdoctorconsultationonline]

Is Shortness Of Breath A Sign Of Pregnancy? at Livlong

Is shortness of breath a sign of pregnancy? Check out details on if shortness of breath is a symptom during early pregnancy. Learn more about breathlessness as a sign of early pregnancy at Livlong!

[allhealthneedsdoctorconsultation]

Is Shortness Of Breath A Sign Of Pregnancy? at Livlong

Is shortness of breath a sign of pregnancy? Check out details on if shortness of breath is a symptom during early pregnancy. Learn more about breathlessness as a sign of early pregnancy at Livlong!

https://livlong.com/blogs/health-and-wellness/is-shortness-of-breath-an-early-pregnancy-sign

[airwar]

real men have pregnancy scares right after telling the posible inseminator they dont want to see him anymore

[chipped-chimera]

" my doctor says it's normal and not to worry because it doesn't hurt the baby " - really says everything about this.

the thing is like. i get that it's scary and makes people who do desire to get pregnant uncomfortable when we talk about the brutality and violence of pregnancy and the damage that pregnancy can do to your body

but you deserve to give informed consent to that process.

the lies around pregnancy - that it's inherently safe, that it doesn't do you permanent damage, that it's only extremely rare for people to die of pregnancy complications, etc like

all of these are lies constructed so that more people will get pregnant w/o knowing all that

there needs to be more talk about the impact of miscarriages and how common they are, how different abortion processes are and how accessible they are

but also like. talking about how pregnancy fucks your body up should not be taboo

this is a process that permanently changes most people's bodies, and that's even if the pregnancy doesn't do them like. severe illness or injury

and i just think everybody should have a right to KNOW that

bc to live in a society that intentionally obscures and hides facts about a completely optional and dangerous process does so for a reason, and that reason is based in a very sinister ideology that does not value bodily autonomy or informed consent

[reasonsforhope]

"Engineers at the University of Pennsylvania have made a critical breakthrough that promises better outcomes for pregnancies threatened with pre-eclampsia, a condition that arises due to insufficient blood flow to the placenta, resulting in high maternal blood pressure and restricted blood flow to the fetus.

Pre-eclampsia is one of the leading causes of stillbirths and prematurity worldwide, and it occurs in 3 to 5% of pregnancies. Without a cure, options for these patients only treat symptoms, such as taking blood pressure medication, being on bed rest, or delivering prematurely—regardless of the viability of their baby.

Making a decision to treat pre-eclampsia in any manner can be a moral conundrum, to balance many personal health decisions with long-standing impacts—and for Kelsey Swingle, a doctoral student in the UPenn bioengineering lab, these options are not enough.

In previous research, she conducted a successful proof-of-concept study that examined a library of lipid nanoparticles (LNPs)—which are the delivery molecules that helped get the mRNA of the COVID vaccine into cells—and their ability to reach the placenta in pregnant mice.

In her latest study, published in Nature, Swingle examined 98 different LNPs and their ability to get to the placenta and decrease high blood pressure and increase vasodilation in pre-eclamptic pregnant mice.

Her work shows that the best LNP for the job was one that resulted in more than 100-fold greater mRNA delivery to the placenta in pregnant mice than an FDA-approved LNP formulation.

The drug worked.

“Our LNP was able to deliver an mRNA therapeutic that reduced maternal blood pressure through the end of gestation and improved fetal health and blood circulation in the placenta,” says Swingle.

“Additionally, at birth we saw an increase in litter weight of the pups, which indicates a healthy mom and healthy babies. I am very excited about this work and its current stage because it could offer a real treatment for pre-eclampsia in human patients in the very near future.”

While further developing this cure for pre-eclampsia and getting it to the market for human use is on the horizon for the research team, Swingle had to start from scratch to make this work possible. She first had to lay the groundwork to run experiments using pregnant mice and determine how to induce pre-eclampsia in this animal model, processes that are not as well studied.

But, by laying this groundwork, Swingle’s work has not only identified an avenue for curing pre-eclampsia, it also opens doors for research on LNP-mRNA therapeutics addressing other reproductive health challenges...

As Swingle thinks ahead for next steps in her research, which was funded by the National Institutes of Health and the National Science Foundation, she will also collaborate to further optimize the LNP to deliver the mRNA even more efficiently, as well as understanding the mechanisms of how it gets to the placenta, a question still not fully answered.

They are already in talks about creating a spin-off company and want to work on bringing this LNP-mRNA therapeutic to clinical trials and the market.

Swingle, who is currently finishing up her Ph.D. research, has not only successfully led this new series of studies advancing pre-eclampsia treatment at Penn, she has also inspired other early career researchers in the field as she continues to thrive while bringing women’s health into the spotlight."

-via Good News Network, December 15, 2024

[macfrog]

If you ever feel up to it - a little short story from the scom universe about reader and Joel deciding to have a second baby or finding out they're pregnant for the second time would warm my cold dead heart <3

i am. so. sorry. for the word count on this i truly do not know what happened. but i had a lot of fun with it, so. hopefully y'all do, too. happy fathers day! x

jellybean ~4k words | series masterlist warnings: pregnancy symptoms (feeling and being sick, horniness + sleepiness. aka me even when not pregnant), 99% just duckie vs her mom

Duckie spills the secret on a Friday.

The morning is lazy, slow. The breathing of the sea across a plain of beach. Your fingers sift through her hair like the breeze through sun-bleached pages. The way she and the sun tint the room peach.

Sarah sprawls out across the spot still warm on her dad’s side of the bed. She’s in a habit of waking up early to sneak through to your room, lift the bottom of the covers, and army crawl between your bodies.

Joel’s in a habit of stirring to the heat of her at his back, her tiny toes at his spine, and turning to scoop her in one arm. They sleep curled into one another, mouths catching flies.

This morning, though, she’s up to something. She brought a secret.

She’s flat-out on her stomach, pens scratching at the paper. There’s the scent of cherry and lemon and green apple tangling in the air. Taut frown on her face, tongue poked with concentration. She looks just like her dad.

She pauses and looks up at you. “What color is this part?” she asks, dabbing at the blank hubcap.

“Silver,” you reply, fixing the cap back onto the grape pen before it stains your sheets.

She huffs. “I don’t have silver, Mama.”

You tap on the page. “Daddy’s wing mirrors are black, but you did ‘em green. The colors don’t matter, do they?”

But it’s seven a.m., and you’re sharing only the red jellybeans for something of a pre-breakfast snack (the four-year-old’s idea), and you’re exhausted despite having slept the full night, and she keeps halting any time Joel’s humming quietens – just in case he spoils his birthday surprise.

She hunkers down with the lemon pen to nail the emblem of his truck, and you figure – color is just the least of it. Truthfully, to your kid – and so, to you, too – nothing has ever mattered more.

You cup her cheek and lift her gaze back to meet yours. “How about I grab you a glitter pen today, just for the wheels?”

She grins. Little milk teeth, gappy and gummy. Peach fuzz cheeks, sweet as the rest of her, a perfect fit in the palm of your hand.

I love you I love you you’re my whole world I love you, you want to say.

Instead: “Only if we tidy your room later. Deal?”

“Deal, Mama,” Sarah giggles, and her little ink-stained hands splay out across the page again.

She scribbles only a few more splotches of color before you both notice it.

The sudden silence.

The water’s stopped running. The shower screen rattles as he pulls it back. Dripdripdrip from the showerhead straight down to the empty basin.

Sarah twists to watch Joel’s disembodied arm blindly grab for a towel folded on the sink. It whips off out of sight, and he calls through from the bathroom.

“Duckie? You still there?”

“Gogogo,” you whisper, helping your daughter cover her dad’s drawing with blank sheets. “Leave the jellybeans, Duck, save yourself!”

She finds the entire thing hysterical. Swinging her masterpiece under one arm, two fistfuls of rainbow pens, springing from the mattress like it suddenly caught flame. She throws herself from the foot of the bed and dashes across the hall to her own room, candy scattering in her wake.

Joel’s head cranes around the doorframe. “Where’d she go?”

You smile, shrugging. Chewing innocently on a jellybean. “That’s funny. She was here a second ago.”

He pads over to the bed, towel slung loose around his hips. Smirks, when your hungry eyes descend his figure – the bearlike shape of him, all muscle and fur, toned where he needs it but soft where you want it.

He cages over you, dark hair dripping with the smell of citrus, skin sticky.

His lips are like velvet against yours. Tongue still singed with coffee. A low growl from his throat when you lean forward to lick into his mouth.

“Smell so goddamn good,” you murmur, dipping your head to bury into the crook of his neck.

His beard is fuzzier when it’s damp, natural masculine musk melded with the fresh soap and rich aftershave he uses. All honey and oatmeal, mixed with a woodsy scent – and fuck, it’s intoxicating. Moreso than usual – stronger and sexier.

You take his hands and lower them to your hips, letting his fingers knot around the baggy material of your – his T-shirt. Tugging on it, exposing the slip of delicate lace on your hips.

“Darlin’,” Joel warns, “we’re late. We still gotta drop Duckie off – If she walks in –”

You groan, huffing back into the mattress. The weight between your legs ripples over the horizon, pulses into weak nothing.

Joel fixes the shirt back down to your thighs just as the thunder of his daughter’s footsteps rumbles back into the room.

Tonight, he breathes, slicking some of the hair from his face.

You grin, taking his hand to pull yourself back up.

Sarah materializes in the doorway, a lingering half-girl. Smiling from behind the frame, twisting the ball of her foot into the floor.

“Hi, Duck,” Joel says, still playing with your fingers.

“Hi.”

“You look guilty.”

Her grin widens. She totters into the room, launches herself onto the bed, and nuzzles into your side. She squirms when Joel digs his fingers into her waist.

The beats of her laughter drum against your ribs, the same way her fists used to when she lived inside you.

“Alright.” You cradle her, her little head tipping back to wake the rest of Austin up with her squeals of glee. “Are we ready for some actual food, now?”

Joel chuckles, reaching for his mug.

Sarah nods from your lap. Her eyes drift down to the print on your tee. “Mama?”

“Mhm?”

“Do they like jellybeans?”

You frown. “Does who like jellybeans?”

Her finger prods lightly into your tummy. “The baby.”

Joel chokes, splattering coffee into his fist. He slams the mug down, pounds his chest clear of liquid.

“There’s no – Jesus, Joel,” you swipe mocha flecks from the sheets, “Told Sarah to be careful with her pens and then you spray coffee all over the…”

Sarah rolls off, cackling. “Silly Daddy,” she hoots, leaping on the bedroom floor.

“Hey,” you usher her over to the door, “Why don’t you go pick out what you wanna wear today? I’ll be right behind you. Quit tryna give your dad a heart attack, okay?”

“The baby, Mama,” she’s repeating, walking like a little convict. She turns over the threshold to her room like it’s a cell, her pink pajama uniform and guilty expression to go with it. Still laughing, swallowing the ticklish bursts when she notices you’re shaking your head.

“There is no baby.” You kneel before her, repeating, “No baby. Just you. How about your T-shirt with the butterflies?”

It seems to distract her enough. Thank Christ. She gasps, inspired, and twirls off to find the tee.

“Fucking hell,” you sigh, pushing back to your feet.

Joel’s flapping the sheets when you slip back into your room, still clearing his throat. Half-dressed: a white T-shirt over his broad chest and a pair of black boxers. Soaked hair clinging to the back of his neck and drying in flicks across his forehead.

Jesus, you want to pull him back over you and let him have his way.

You close the door over and spin, hands on your hips. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Me?” he croaks. “Did you hear what she just said?”

“You’ve known this kid for four years, Joel, you really can’t tell when she’s fucking with you? She’s my kid, keep up.”

“Just seemed an awfully –” he thumps his chest again, “– awfully specific thing to say.”

“She’s in a phase I think,” you reply, catching the pillow he tosses across. “She’s telling stories. Last week, her pre-K teacher congratulated me our supposed wedding. Asked to see pictures of the Mickey Mouse officiant.”

“Jesus,” he grumbles. “She really bought that?”

You mimic the breezy voice: “Sarah was very convincing.”

Joel scoffs. “I don’t know if I can take a lying phase and a copying phase at the same time. Every goddamn word I say, she’s gotta repeat it.”

“She idolizes you,” you straighten the sheets, “I think it’s endearing.”

“Hm. Just wait until it’s you.”

He wanders around the bed, pulls your back against his chest. His arms cross over your tummy, lips pressing into your shoulder where his shirt has slipped.

“How much harder would two be?” he mumbles into the bare skin.

“Two Sarahs?” You scoff.

Joel laughs. “Yeah, you’re right. I forget she runs on chaos and jellybeans.”

“Yup,” you turn in his arms, linking yours behind his neck, “And there ain’t no point in talking about it anyways, because I am not fucking pregnant.”

He rolls his forehead against yours, stealing bristly kisses. “Okay.”

“I’m not, Joel.”

“I believe you, baby.”

Sarah’s bedtime is a liberal eight, eight thirty on weekends. She likes to sit up, lodged between you and Joel on the couch, and help pick the movie you two will watch once she’s in bed.

Once – and only once – Joel tried to fool her by pretending to play her choice, then switching as soon as she went down.

The kid quizzed him on the movie the next morning. He failed. She’s never forgotten.

Tonight, though, Joel’s out. Some game that you know and care too little about sports to learn the name or importance of. He’s with some buddies at the local bar, probably nursing his second beer in as many hours, and counting down the minutes until he can come home to his girls.

Sarah snores soundly, slumped at your side as though butter wouldn’t melt. The flicker from the TV across her face, the gentle mumbling of the voices onscreen. Her hands limp in her lap, fingers idling in a pink snack bowl.

You admire her, stealing a piece of her popcorn. Teeth grinding down when you remember dishing it for her earlier, hearing her curious voice ask whether or not the baby likes popcorn more than jellybeans.

Nope, you sang, tossing a handful in your mouth as you passed her the bowl. Imaginary babies don’t eat popcorn.

She snorted (which unnerved you, because what the fuck is this kid finding so funny?), and followed you to the living room so close that you could feel her toes at your heels.

Some of the kids in her class have siblings. Some older, but mostly younger. It’s the only fucking explanation, the only thing that explains this sudden interest in the real estate of your uterus.

She’s going through a phase, you tell yourself, suckling on popcorn. But then – how many fucking phases do kids go through? Which phases did you go through?

Barney & Friends. That was a fucking phase. Refusing to leave the house without the hoodie your mom bought you from the Museum of Natural History, even in the height of summer. Ketchup and broccoli, your boyfriend at seventeen, frisbeeing your neighbor’s newspaper and aiming for his flowerpots.

Phase, phase, fucking phase.

Does she know something you don’t?

…No. You took a test just last week. Shut up. Stop letting the kid into your fucking head.

Joel’s keys jangle on the other side of the door, shunting into the lock with a sound which stills your brain.

You tilt your head over the back of the couch, your man’s beard tickling your nose as he kisses you. “Evening.”

“Missed you,” he whispers against your lips. He straightens and tugs the jacket from his shoulders. “She not in bed yet?”

“She fell asleep down here,” you reply. “I got too tired to carry her up.”

He caresses your forehead, big pillowy palm. “You feelin’ okay?”

“It’s been a long day,” you grumble.

Joel smiles. He flops down onto the couch beside you, reaching over to stroke Sarah’s head.

You roll, solid as a rock, curling into his side. “She keeps saying it, Joel. She keeps fucking saying it.”

His chest jumps, tectonic plates moving with a laugh. “You’ve met your match, honey. Produced a professional little shit.”

“One of the other moms from her class is pregnant,” you mumble. “That’s gotta be it, right? That’s where she’s getting it from?”

“Maybe,” Joel muses. His fingers link with yours. “Why don’t you take a test anyways? Settle it in your mind?”

It startles you awake, even if only enough to prove the fucking point.

“No, Joel!” you hiss, body jerking. “If I take a test, and it turns out negative – which it will – she wins! My four-year-old fooled me. No,” you pluck spilled popcorn from your lap, pinging it back into the bowl, “I know this kid. I gave birth to this kid. She is not fucking winning.”

“Alright, baby,” he coos, “it’s okay. I won’t let the four-year-old fool you.”

You glower. “Thanks, asshole.”

He chuckles. “She’d make the best big sister, though. She would,” he insists, when you huff back against his chest. “She’d love being the oldest. Get to be bossy, get to call the shots. Get to protect them, no matter what.”

Your voice feels so small, as inquisitive as your daughter’s when you blink up at him. “Were you protective over Tommy?”

“Oh, yeah. I mean, he was annoying as all hell – and I told him so – but anyone else had anythin’ to say about him, and – well, they had me to deal with.”

“Big scary Joel Miller,” you whisper, yawning into his shirt. “I knew him once.”

“Mhm,” he rumbles, “You sure did.”

You look up again, blinking all doe-eyed and dreamy. Already half-asleep.

“He never scared me,” you whisper.

Joel smiles.

“Well, you scared the hell outta him.”

Saturday morning, you wake to an empty bed. No snoring man, no scribbling girl. Just you – a starfish on the mattress. Bathing in waves of late-morning sun, sheets for coral, body as heavy as though you really are at the bottom of the ocean.

Her giggles carry all the way upstairs. Sarah. They surf into the room on a sunbeam, sounds like bubbles which shatter and sprinkle over your aching body.

You smile into Joel’s pillow, breathing in the smell of him, and peel your eyes open.

It’s ten thirty. Definitely – you blink three times and rub at your eyes, just to make sure. Ten thirty, and something’s swirling behind your navel. Something that sharpens, sours, when you push yourself upright.

“Oh, shit,” you rasp, and throw yourself across the room.

You barely make it, collapsing in a heap at the toilet. Your stomach empties in seconds; three heavy, painful gags and your head is in the bowl, choking on last night’s dinner.

“Motherfucker,” you spit, gasping, “Oh, Jesus.”

You’re sick. You’re just sick. Sarah probably caught something from pre-K, passed it on without even knowing. And, hey – you feel better, now that that happened.

You’re just sick. Nothing else.

“Mornin’,” Joel calls, watching as you stagger into the kitchen.

Sarah mimics his drawl. “Mornin’, Mama.”

“Hi, Duckie.” You crumple into the chair beside her, shoulders hunched. The smell of burnt toast and grape juice twists up your nose, and you suck in a slow breath.

Joel sweeps a hand over your forehead. He tips your jaw up to face him. “You alright? Thought we heard running.”

Sarah rips a slice of toast in two. She stares at the fluffy insides, the jam dripping from the tear. The sight of it lifts the hairs on your skin, the gloopy mess splattering onto her plate.

“Just feel kinda…funny,” you slur, turning away.

“Funny? Funny how?”

“Funny how?” your daughter parrots.

You shrug. Every word, every inhale makes you feel even more nauseous. “Probably just ate something.”

“Heard that one before,” Joel drones, and you throw him a flat look.

Sarah licks the jam from her fingers. She holds her tiny hands up to her dad, snorts when he pretends to bite at them.

“Eat your breakfast, Duckie,” he says then – in his Dad voice. And in something softer, kinder: “Can I make you somethin’?”

You swat the idea away, but it’s already churning in your stomach again. “Just gotta – get over whatever it – is.”

The table falls silent. Joel and Sarah stare blankly at one another. When you turn to look at your daughter, she’s staring straight back. Smirking.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you clip, wincing again at the dribbling jam.

“Alright,” Joel utters, “I think you oughta take a test now.”

“That is not what this is,” you groan, petulantly pushing up from your chair.

He takes your hand, steadying you. “No? I was thinking about it, baby, and I don’t think we’ve been safe enough to be so sure.”

You dump your golden toast in the trash and turn, crossing your arms. Your shoulders lift. “We’re not being any less safe than we have been the last four years.”

“Safe,” Sarah says, and Joel holds a finger up.

“No,” he tells her. “No. Not that word. Go back to funny.”

She beams at him. “You’re funny, Daddy.”

He sighs, pacing over. “Look,” he lowers his plate into the sink, “I’ll take Duckie to the park. Let you rest up, give you a quiet house for the morning. But darlin’, if you’re not better by tonight, you’re takin’ a test.”

You grimace. “But she –”

“I know –” he grits his teeth, “– I know you don’t want her to be right. But I want you to be okay, more ‘n I want to prove my child wrong. Like it or not, you’re taking a damn test.”

Your eyes flit across to the kid swinging her legs in her chair, the splotch of jam down her Peppa Pig T-shirt. Your greatest accomplishment and your biggest challenge, wrapped up into a hundred-centimeter, jellybean-fueled monster.

Her cheeks lift, jam-covered and smug.

“Funny,” Sarah says, nodding.

The afternoon strings the sun high in the sky.

You’ve been home alone for the better part of an hour, busying yourself by cleaning to take your mind off the nausea tugging at your esophagus. Making and remaking beds, folding laundry until your fingers cramp.

Sarah’s room has never been tidier. Joel’s workshop has never seen so little dust. And you have never been more determined to prove your four-year-old wrong.

You’re lingering in the bathroom, the window gaping. Sucking in breath after breath of fresh air – which only serves to tickle the acid burning its way up your throat, entice it further.

You’re emptying the cabinets, reorganizing them into some senseless order. Playing Tetris with boxes of Band-Aids, slotting in tubes of toothpaste. You blindly reach behind your hip for the next box – a nearly empty thing which rattles when you lift it, jitters as though nervous.

You glance down.

“Fuck off,” you hiss, throwing it on the shelf beside some tampons.

It stares back at you, as blinding as the sun. The two display window examples, pregnant and not pregnant, like a wink peering out from the dull cabinet.

Your gums taste of bitter bile, rancid. Teeth furry and aching. Your entire body aches – though nothing quite so bad as the space below your ribs, still tender from all your retching.

Slowly, your hands slip down your front to cup your lower tummy. Rounder than before, suppler – bloated, even.

“’s from all the throwing up,” you tell nobody in particular. Maybe yourself. There’s a desperate edge to your voice, almost a plea.

But then – a plea to who? For what? There was nothing you loved more than carrying Sarah for nine months. Duck. Start saying duck. Baby Duck.

You were never on your own. She was right there. Someone to talk to, someone to complain to. Someone to weep to, in the quietest lulls of night.

Her language came to you as easily as your own. All her kicks and punches, her fucking acrobatics while you tried to sleep. It was love, in its most chaotic form.

And you loved her, the very moment you saw those two lines. The very moment you realized she’d been in there the whole time.

You realize now, squatted on your bathroom floor, that it feels the exact same. A warmth, radiating from your very core, if only you’d pay it enough attention to feel it.

Like there’s someone there. Right there.

“If you’re fucking with me,” you warn your stomach, reaching for the single test, “I will lose my shit.”

Love, in its most chaotic form bursts through your bedroom door no less than half an hour later.

“Hi, Mama!” Sarah sings, tearing through the room with her hands behind her back. Her knees bump against the side of your bed, the air about her summer-warm and pollen-sweet.

“Hi, little Duck,” you mumble, voice swollen. You wipe sleep from your eyes, asking, “How was the park?”

She answers with a wide grin on her face, whipping out a small, shabby bunch of flowers. Dandelions and daisies tangled around one another, loose petals scattering over your bedsheets.

“Oh, baby,” you push yourself up, ignoring the sickly weight in your stomach, “Are these for me?”

She nods. She dusts her hands free of grass when you take the bouquet. And then, as you smell them and hum with delight, she turns.

First, over to the dresser. She stares at her reflection, pokes at some of the makeup on the table. Then over to the window – where her breath fogs the glass. You hear the whack of Joel’s tailgate closing, and she tracks him into the house, before examining the windowsill.

You watch nervously as she drifts back over to the bed, a curious hop to her movements. Inspecting, like she knows there’s something waiting to be found. Someone.

“Did you have fun with Daddy?” you ask.

“Yep,” her small voice says, distant and distracted. She disappears into the dim bathroom.

You slump back down on the mattress, dropping the flowers in a clump on your bedside table. “I don’t even know when I fell asleep, baby girl,” you say through a yawn.

Sarah doesn’t reply.

“Duckie?”

“What’s this?”

You lift your head. “What’s wh…Oh, n-no, Duckie, wait –”

She flees past you, one fist raised and wielding the pregnancy test.

“Sarah! Jesus, fuck –”

You’re chasing after her before you have a chance to consider it – nausea be damned. She’s squealing something, roaring with laughter, blitzing out into the hallway. She swivels, ladders down the stairs backwards, leaps straight into the arms of –

“Christ, Sarah –”

Joel stumbles backwards with the force she throws at him. She’s safe in his arms by the time you reach the top of the stairs, waving the stupid stick around his head like it’s a magic wand.

“Daddy!” Sarah cries.

He glances up to you: hunched over the top step, panting, clutching your stomach. He pinches the test from her grasp. “What do we got here, baby duck?”

She kicks her feet. She has no fucking idea what they have, but she knows you didn’t want her near it – and if you know your kid, you know that’s all the catalyst she needed to fucking take it.

You slowly make your way down towards them, smirk growing the nearer you draw.

Joel glances down to the test. The creases by his eyes deepen. He hugs Sarah closer.

“Two...two means...pregnant, right?” he asks.

You sigh, nodding. “Mhm.”

His head lifts.

He breaks, the second he sees your expression. Eyes glassy, tears spilling onto your cheeks. The same smile you wore that June morning: sleep-deprived and shellshocked, a love pumping through your veins so strong that you thought you might burst with it.

Joel reaches for your hand, reels you in against his body.

“Shit,” he laughs, holding the test up.

Your shaking hands take it from him – though you already knew what it says. You were dreaming of it all when Sarah broke into your room.

Dreaming of linked hands and echoed giggles; of bunkbeds and matching surnames, of all four seats in the truck filled and all four chambers of your heart spoken for.

Dreaming of one on each hip, one in each hand. Dreaming of them tag teaming Joel, of the word kids slung with his southern twang. My kids, the kids, our kids. All ours.

Dreaming of two Sarahs, goddamn it. Because nothing ever completed your life as effortlessly as one Sarah, and – hell, she was born to follow in her dad’s footsteps and become the elder Miller sibling.

“Shit,” you agree, turning to sob into Joel’s chest.

“Duckie,” Joel says, voice hoarse and choked by tears, “You’re gonna be a big sister.”

She giggles, tracing the damp lines down your cheeks. As she reaches your jaw, the elation on her face slowly dwindles into something of a frown.

Your lips part to repeat it – a big sister, Duck – when her tiny voice steals the air from your lungs.

“Shit!”

[cntloup]

☆ミ Simon 'Ghost' Riley masterlist part 1 ☆ミ part 2

Worth It

Close Call

What if...?

SUGAR

Endure

We'll meet again

Passion Pt.1 | Pt.2

Eternal Oblivion

Patience

Mornings at the Rileys'

Bestfriend!Simon Pt.1 | Pt.2

I miss you

you have a panic attack

taking care of him

Riding Him

Period Comfort (+ a lil surprise) Pt.1 | Pt.2

Pregnancy Comfort

Together

pregnancy sex

Valentine's Day

Good Boy

Elope

Complete

Pre-Ghost Simon Pt.1 | Pt.2

Love Making

Shh, I know, baby. I know.

His Angel

his girls

Pregnancy Angst

Going to the pub with him

giving birth

RetiredHusband!Simon x Wife!Reader HCs

Mine!

i'll make it fit

insecurity after pregnancy

gonna wife you up, mr. riley

What the fuck are you listening to?

Corruption

Come back

he calms your crying baby

Child, I will hurt you

Ex-Husband!Simon HCs

Ex-Husband!Simon fucking you in the guest room at a party

skin to skin contact

his old wound flares up

Period Sex

fluffy love making

If Simon Riley falls in love...

after sex fluffiness

letting him play with you

he has a panic attack

he gets heart eyes while you breastfeed your baby

you use the safe word

he's fascinated by your pussy :)

mirror sex

insecure about being skinny/flat-chested

so fuckin’ tight

riding his bicep

stuck in a safe house (and you have smth to tell him)

you should keep quiet

Let Down (depression)

him having pregnancy symptoms during your pregnancy

work can wait

Bartender!Simon rescues you

Always

image of his memory

innocent!reader

Are You Really Okay?

Start a Family

Farmer/Cowboy!Simon

showing his love in front of the lads

do you remember?

yesterday..., today...

devotion

together at last

you tell him you're ready

Happiness

Behave!

he's in a coma

heavy angst (sorry)

you take control

Childhood Bestfriends

fucking you in a headlock

awestruck

letting him use you

depression comfort

Simon's type / dating HCs

virgin!reader's first time

Biker!Simon

you have a panic attack 2

saving you from creeps

punishing you

how he shows his love

open up...

obsession with his hands

[chocobochaserstories]

Omega Heat Cycle Physiology

So, funny story, I'm a Pre-Veterinary Major in university, which means I know way, way too much about reproductive A & P and I thought about Omegaverse too hard and here we are. Totally didn't write this in livestock nutrition today, Not like we had a lecture, Dr. A was momming us because half of the class (me included) had our biology professor call us failures. I love Dr. A she's the best :) Anyhow, here's my take on Omega Heat Cycle Physiology. TW: I don't think there are any, maybe just warning for mildly in depth repro talk?

Omega Anatomy and Physiology

Presentation

Occurs around 12-14 years of age, typically genetically predictable, meaning that for the most part omegas of a family will present around the same age. For example, if multiple generations present at 12 years old, this trend will continue for several more generations. In addition, heat cycle lengths and frequencies are also genetically linked. A mother’s heat cycle, assuming she is omegan, can be used to predict a first heat length. Typical symptoms of presentation include heightened body temperature, cramping in the abdominopelvic and lumbar regions, soreness of the breast tissue, bloating, headaches, nausea, and typical symptoms of arousal. An omega who as not presented by fifteen years of age is considered to be late blooming. This is generally not harmful, but may shift the other stages of development by however many years beyond the normal period of development the presentation heat occurred. 

Pseudoheats

Typically occur between 14 and 18 years of age. During this period, an omega will experience heat cycles, however they are not mature heat cycles. During this period, omegas are capable of conception, however the reproductive organs are still in development, which can result in the pregnancy causing damages that can be permanent. Pregnancy during this period can lead to higher rates of miscarriage, chemical pregnancy, ectopic pregnancy, and stillbirth, as well as higher instances of gestational diabetes, pre-eclampsia, and excessive strain on other non-reproductive organs. Pregnancies carried to viability have higher risks of preterm labor, low birth weight, childbirth complications for both the mother and baby, increased infant mortality within the first week, and increased rates of birth defects. The damages risked during this period also have significant potential to irreparably damage an omega’s future fertility, as well as cause temporary or permanent sterility due to reproductive damages and traumas. 

At this stage, the pseudoheats share many of the same symptoms of presentation heats (heightened body temperature, cramping in the abdominopelvic and lumbar regions, soreness of the breast tissue, bloating, headaches, nausea, symptoms of arousal), but at this point in development, hormonal-related arousal is more common due to hormone values during this period. During pseudoheats, omegas generally mature further towards their secondary gender’s characteristics. Areas of development include widening of the hips, deposition of fatty tissue in the lower abdominal cavity, and overall development of a more feminine silhouette, all under ideal conditions. In cases of inadequate nutrition, the development isn’t as obvious, but the body will still attempt to redirect resources to the development of areas of importance. As opposed to the presentational heat, pseudoheats are characterized by a steady climb in an omega’s hormones. In particular, estrogen, which is essential to the proper development of the reproductive tract and accessory structures. Heat Cycles will still be fairly irregular.

Transitional Heats

Typically begin around 18 years of age and continue until about 20 years of age. At this point in development, the hormones from the pseudo heats peak and stabilize. By this point, physical development is wrapping up and heats that occur during this period of development are very similar to mature heat cycles. Fertility during this period improves steadily, but it is still in development. Heat cycles begin to occur more regularly and stabilize in terms of frequency, length, and intensity. Symptomatically, transitional heats are typically more intense than pseudoheats, but not as intense as mature heat cycles. At this point, the symptoms are the same as the prior two stages, although arousal is greater in intensity in strength. In addition, an unmated, unbred omega may experience cramping or an increase in body temperature (up to a temperature of 101.5°F). During heats, the cervix is also softer and more malleable, aiding in the breeding process. For mated omegas, the breeding instinct is stronger and tends to be one of the few things on an omega’s mind during the peak of the cycle (active heat= ~7 days, so day 3-4). An omega being intimate with an alpha during this stage can expedite this stage and cause mature heat cycles, which is not necessarily good as this can lead to reproductive issues due to hastened development.

Mature Cycles

Occurs from age 21-22 and until the menopausal stages around age 50. At this point, it becomes legal to take heat suppressants, scent blockers, and other hormone medications, which can otherwise mess with development. The only major difference between mature heat cycles and transitional heat cycles is the intensity of cycles increases and the cycle frequency, which stabilizes. 

[maaarine]

Scientists Pinpoint Cause of Severe Morning Sickness (Azeen Ghorayshi, The New York Times, Dec 13 2023)

"More than two-thirds of pregnant women experience nausea and vomiting during the first trimester.

And roughly 2 percent of women are hospitalized for a condition called hyperemesis gravidarum, which causes relentless vomiting and nausea throughout the entire pregnancy.

The condition can lead to malnutrition, weight loss and dehydration.

It also increases the risk of preterm birth, pre-eclampsia and blood clots, threatening the life of the mother and the fetus.

Perhaps because nausea and vomiting are so common in pregnancy, doctors often overlook hyperemesis, dismissing its severe symptoms as psychological, even though it is the leading cause of hospitalization during early pregnancy, experts said.

Although celebrities like Kate Middleton and Amy Schumer have raised the condition’s profile in recent years by sharing their experiences, it remains understudied.

“I’ve been working on this for 20 years and yet there are still reports of women dying from this and women being mistreated,” said Dr. Marlena Fejzo, a geneticist at the University of Southern California Keck School of Medicine and a co-author of the new study.

She knows the pain of the condition firsthand.

During her second pregnancy, in 1999, Dr. Fejzo was unable to eat or drink without vomiting.

She rapidly lost weight, becoming too weak to stand or walk.

Her doctor was dismissive, suggesting she was exaggerating her symptoms to get attention.

She was eventually hospitalized, and miscarried at 15 weeks. (…)

The researchers found that women experiencing hyperemesis had significantly higher GDF15 levels during pregnancy than did those who had no symptoms.

But the hormone’s effect seems to depend on the woman’s sensitivity and exposure to the hormone before pregnancy.

The researchers found, for example, that women in Sri Lanka with a rare blood disorder causing chronically high levels of GDF15 rarely experienced nausea or vomiting in pregnancy.

“It completely obliterated all the nausea. They pretty much have next to zero symptoms in their pregnancies,” said Dr. Stephen O’Rahilly, an endocrinologist at Cambridge who led the research.

Dr. O’Rahilly hypothesized that prolonged exposure to GDF15 before pregnancy could have a protective effect, making women less sensitive to the sharp surge in the hormone caused by the developing fetus. (…)

The new study is powerful because it offers genetic proof of a causal relationship between GDF15 and the disease, said Dr. Rachel Freathy, who is a geneticist at the University of Exeter and was not involved in the study.

That will help the condition gain greater recognition, she said.

“There is kind of an assumption made by many people that women should just be able to cope with this,” Dr. Freathy said.

With this biological explanation, she said, “there will be more belief that this is a real thing rather than something in somebody’s head.”"

[issysh3ll]

Condoms & STDs

Since the triplets posted their recent video I have seen a lot of people asking why Nick would need condoms if he can’t get anyone pregnant so I think this post is needed.

Condoms are absolutely used to prevent pregnancy. They are one of the most effective forms of contraception and most widely known.

But

Condoms are also used for preventing STDs. Condoms provide a physical barrier between you and your partner that prevents diseases and infections from spreading to you during sexual activity.

STDs can be transmitted through any form of sexual contact, not just penetration. This includes oral sex, anal sex, fingering, handjobs etc. Any form of contact carries a risk of infection so make sure you are using protection and keeping yourself safe. Wash your hands after touching someone’s genitals and use a condom if it is touching you.

The majority of STDs are carried by bodily fluids so that includes cum, pre-cum, female arousal fluids, discharge, spit, blood etc. Some STDs are also transmitted by skin to skin contact.

If you are doing anything where any part of your body will come in contact with another person’s genitals you absolutely need to be using a physical barrier such as a condom to protect yourself and your partner.

A lot of people forget it is possible to get STDs in your mouth from oral sex. It is possible to get STDs in your eyes if you get cum in them. It is possible to get STDs anywhere.

Even if you or your partner doesn’t have any symptoms of an STD there is no way to be 100% sure that you don’t have one without a test. Many STDs can lay dormant or be asymptomatic but still be transmitted to others.

This is why it is so important to get tested regularly if you are sexually active.

Condoms are obviously designed to go on a penis so if you are needing a physical barrier for a vagina try a dental dam or ‘female condoms’.

[cx-boxbox]

Might not finish this, so have a quick ~800 word landussy drabble:

Lando grimaces, shoving a hand down his race suit to pluck at his fireproof bottoms while cursing his biology.

Being an omega can be fun sometimes, but it’s so extremely inconvenient when he’s in pre-heat and meant to get in the car in less than ten minutes. His fireproofs are fucking glued to his pussy lips with slick.

Of course, Oscar notices.

“Don’t,” Lando grumbles, glaring at his mate as soon as he opens his mouth. “I can’t wait for this to be fucking over.”

When Oscar blessedly doesn’t say anything, only sending a comforting flare of pheromones his way, Lando wants nothing more than to cry. Damn these hormones. They’re fucking ruining everything.

The car is scorching hot, just two laps in, and it takes every bit of concentration and focus for Lando to drive it, all while his pre-heat brain is absolutely killing him. Not once has he ever taken a piss in the cockpit, but all the slick pooling between his legs is arguably worse.

If only he hadn’t forgotten to take his suppressants.

Social media is going to crucify him for finishing just shy of the podium when he started from third, but he can’t bring himself to care. He’s almost glad he doesn’t have to bother with podium celebrations as soon as he puts his car in parc fermé and jumps out to get weighed.

He doesn’t have to worry about being underweight when there has to be a kilo’s worth of slick in his suit.

“Just this and then media duties,” Oscar murmurs, putting a comforting hand on the small of his back and rubbing it. “Hold on for me?”

Lando nods, resisting the temptation to bury his nose in the crook of his mate’s neck and inhale his sweaty, musky scent. Oscar’s looking a bit flushed with his hair sticking to his forehead, and Lando wants to devour him whole.

“Alpha,” he purrs. “Fuck, I’m aching for your knot.”

“Half an hour, Lando,” Oscar promises.

Lando doesn’t want to wait half an hour. He wants Oscar’s knot now. “Fuck. Fuck. You didn’t end on the podium either. Was it my fault?”

Oscar waits for him to finish weighing before shaking his head and replying, “Don’t worry about it. Bad strategy calls.”

“Fuck.”

“That’s a lot of fucks,” he jokes. “Save some for after.”

Lando laughs incredulously. He can always trust his mate to distract him from the growing pains in his abdomen.

-

Finally back in their hotel room, Lando all but throws himself at his mate, moaning into his mouth as soon as the door shuts with a click.

Oscar catches him because he’s such a good alpha, hoisting him up and carrying him to the bed. Lando gasps as the jeans he hastily pulled on are tugged down his legs and tossed carelessly aside.

“God,” Oscar groans, staring at the apex of Lando’s thighs. He can see the shape of Lando’s wet cunt through his knickers where the near-translucent fabric is practically molded to his slick folds.

Lando wants to tell him to stop staring and do something, but all coherent thought leaves his mind, and all he can do is squeal and clamp his thighs around Oscar’s head at the first touch of his lips to the center of his body.

The noise that leaves Oscar’s mouth, vibrating against Lando’s clothed pussy, is almost feral in nature, and Lando gasps, realizing that Oscar is much better at hiding the symptoms of his pre-rut. He was so preoccupied by the hot flashes of arousal making it impossible for him to even stand upright that he didn’t notice the thick, luscious scent wafting off of his mate.

Oh, but Oscar’s mouth…

“Alpha!” Lando cries, trying to shove Oscar’s face away from his soaked knickers in vain. “You can’t- we can’t-”

Oscar hums in acknowledgement but continues to suck a hickey into his thigh.

“Oscar, I forgot to take my suppressants- oh!”

The last thing Lando’s heat-ridden brain wants is for Oscar to stop, even if there’s a significant risk of pregnancy if he knots him in rut.

But would pregnancy be the worst thing to happen to him?

Giving in, Lando spreads his legs a little more, moaning as Oscar peels his underwear away. The damp cotton sticks to his folds, and he has to bite his own fingers to muffle his scream at the first lap of Oscar’s tongue against him.

Oscar didn’t even wait to get rid of the rest of Lando’s clothes, but it makes Lando feel so much more insane knowing his mate was so eager to taste him that he didn’t even bother with foreplay or anything else.

The thought alone is enough to make him come, and the continued tease of Oscar's tongue against his clit, sending aftershocks of pleasure coursing through his body, makes his back arch clear off the bed.

[dancingtotuyo]

9. the fear of what's to come

Woman | Joel Miller x Female Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: You and Joel navigate life changing news.

Tags: Joel Miller X Female Reader. Age Gap (13/14 years). HBO Characters. Mostly cannon compliant for show & game. Timeline is changed.

Chapter Warnings: pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, mentions of potential pregnancy complications including but not limited to miscarriage and stillbirth, single reference to a fetus being a child (not intended in a pro life way), angst, grief, complicated feelings surrounding pregnancy.

Notes: A huge thanks to my amazing beta readers and friends @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin & @janaispunk

If you have not checked out Before, I would encourage you to do so for more backstory on our dear reader!

Words: 3088

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Playlist

You know three weeks after your missed period what is happening. It’s not hard to figure out. It’s just like last time. Menopause crosses your mind briefly, but the symptoms don’t line up. You’re sensitive to the same foods, nausea rolls in and out like the ocean tides throughout the day. The insatiable craving for a tomato sandwich cements it two days later. Tears run down your cheeks as you quickly finish off the sandwich and prepare another. 

You don’t get excited. You don’t make plans, and most importantly, you don’t tell Joel. You’re 45. Joel is in his late 50s. You know the statistics, the pre-end-of-the-world ones. You can’t imagine they’ve improved. 

Instead, you just hope that when it happens, nothing goes wrong. There’s no DNC, no pills to make sure everything passes properly or ensure no infection sets in. You’ve aided many women through this, many much younger than yourself. Some make it just fine, others have complications with nothing but prayer, poultices, and 20-year-old antibiotics to help. You’re not sure what actually does it when the women make it through. Some of them you've buried. Their faces flicker through your mind. You cannot be one of them. You cannot leave Carter without either of his parents in this world.  

You tell Maria. You tell her everything she needs to know. What to do step by step when it happens. Since Adam’s injury, Dr. Pooley refuses to practice anything more than simple first aid. You’re both certain it’s dementia. You spend most mornings listening to him talk through different lectures he attended. On the mornings his brain won’t cooperate, you sip tea together. He’s writing down what he remembers, but you have to fact-check it. He’s already taught you most of it anyway. 

“You have to tell Joel,” Maria says when you tell her. 

You refuse. You won’t do it. You won’t bring him into this. You have this silent agreement that you’re partners in this world, but he still lives in the house across the street with Ellie. There’s never been discussions about moving in together or anything past that. You don’t call him your boyfriend. He doesn’t call you his girlfriend. Making those commitments, those plans, it will hurt too much when the world takes him away. 

Carter calls him “Daddy.” It makes Joel smile every time. He’s accepted that commitment. It makes you smile too, but there’s still a little ache in your heart each time. Carter knows about Gabe. You tell him stories all the time. If you ask him, he says he has two daddies. One here and one in heaven. 

But you won’t tell Joel about this child. He’s lost one. He doesn’t need to lose another. 

Maria fights you on it. She looks at her son pointing out that she was 2 years older than you are now when he was born healthy. You don’t remind her she almost died, but she sees it in your eyes. You still have nightmares about that night.

You’re firm. You’re not going to tell Joel. Neither will she, and she damn sure won’t tell Tommy either. 

You wait for the cramps and the blood, but they never come. You hit the 3-month mark, your 2nd trimester at the beginning of October. You don’t cry in the bathroom. You square your shoulders. Second-trimester miscarriages happen. Stillbirths happen, but hope gathers in the depths of your soul, growing with each day. You push it away with logic and reasoning. 

Two sides of you war against each other. You can’t bring another life into this world. At one point you were okay with it. You felt safe here, and while you still do, it doesn’t feel okay anymore. The world still digs its ugly claws into this community. Yet, the hopes you used to hold in your mind, the ones you had with Gabe, and the ones you had before the outbreak still linger. In a perfect, uncomplicated world, this is what you would choose. 

You hide the sickness from Joel with relative ease. He’s often awake and out of bed before you for patrol shifts, early morning chores, or waking up with Carter so you can sleep in.

You deliver the Crosby twins a week later without complications. Melissa is only a couple of years younger than you, but at your age, you know how crucial those few years are. When you finally reach your front porch, you sit in the darkness of Wyoming and finally let the tears fall because fate seems to be telling you that this is happening, or just sending you another person to lose. The realization hits you like a freight train. Time is up. You have to tell Joel. 

You crack open the door to Carter’s bedroom. He’s sound asleep and it relieves you to know he's here. You’re less on edge when he’s close, and It means Joel picked him up from Maria and Tommy’s. It means Joel is in your bed.

Sure enough, he’s there when you creep in. He sleeps on his side curled up over your pillow. You roll your eyes. Yes, it's endearing, but it’s also a pain in the ass to get your pillow back.

The bathroom light is blinding at first, but your eyes slowly adjust as you turn on the shower and steam fills the space. Goosebumps spread across your skin as you undress, catching sight of yourself in the mirror. You’ve noticed the subtle changes in your body over these past couple of months, but they’re becoming more noticeable. Your breasts have grown, they’re so sensitive, and your sports bra pulls at the seams. Joel commented on it last week. You joked you were packing on extra weight for winter acting like it was nothing. 

Your favorite pair of jeans no longer fit. You’ve mostly stuck to leggings since. You’re starting to clock the subtle changes in your body. They’re happening faster than with your last pregnancy. The past week, you’ve shut Joel down sexually, scared he would catch on despite your sex drive skyrocketing. It’s been difficult. 

The shower washes away everything: the sweat and grime of the day, your tears, the tension in your muscles. You stand under the water until it runs cold, slipping on Joel’s worn soft t-shirt.

Your pillow is back on your side of the bed, Joel still on his side. A smile creeps onto your face. He keeps his eyes closed, but you know he’s awake. You don’t say anything as you slide into bed, but your anxiety spikes, your heart fluttering in your chest. You have to tell him. 

You’re staring at the ceiling when he breaks the silence. “What happened?” 

You suck in a breath. He thinks something went wrong tonight. He’s probably preparing to dig a grave. “Nothing, mom and babies are fine.”

“So it was twins?” 

“Yeah.” You had suspected as much, but the ultrasound machine doesn’t work, try as you might to get it operational. You hadn’t been able to find a second heartbeat with the Doppler. 

“So what’s buggin you?” His drawl is deeper, soaked with sleep. 

He scoots a little closer, hot breath tickling your ear. You can’t move. You should look him in the eye when you tell him, but you can’t. The words are at the back of your throat surging forward toward your lips. The anxiety in your chest feels like a herd of buffalo stomping across the countryside. You squeeze your eyes shut to try and stop it.

“Sweetheart?” His hand reaches toward you, eyes trained on your profile as concern laces his brow. 

“I’m pregnant.” 

His hand stops over your arm. You feel its warmth so close, and then it goes away. You dare to look at him. You expect him to get out of bed and bolt. You don’t know why. He’s only shown you otherwise the entirety of your relationship, but this is more than either of you signed up for. Instead, you watch as it sinks in. He connects the dots, all the symptoms and signs that were right in front of his face, his subconscious absorbing them, but refusing to put it all together. 

“I’m sorry,” you say.

You look back toward the ceiling, tears slipping from your eyes. 

His hand covers your abdomen, forehead pressing against your temple. He starts to feel the changes to your body for what they are. You shudder. 

“How long have you known?”

There’s not a trace of judgment or fear in his voice, but it does little to assure you. You’re scared. It doesn’t matter what Joel says or does, the fear is overwhelming. 

“Beginning of August.”

“Shit, baby.” He pulls you into him, cradling your head against his chest. “You didn’t have to carry this alone.”

“I didn’t think it would last.” After months of holding the tears back, you finally let them out, a mix of relief and fear. “I didn’t- I didn’t want you to-” 

You can’t finish it. You can’t say it out loud, but Joel knows what you’re trying to say. You didn’t want him to lose another child, and it wrecks him. His grip on you is crushing, but it soothes your shaking frame. Just as you come down, his sobs greet your ear because he’s scared too. Every single fear and anxiety that has come over you the past months, he feels too. Maria’s labor and delivery flash through his mind. If that happens to you, who’s going to save you? 

You reach up to cradle his face. He presses into your neck. Your skin is sticky and salty again, but you don’t even think about it as the man you love and can’t tell cries in your arms. You’re unable to return his soothing squeeze, but you lay there to provide any comfort you can. The two of you fall asleep tangled in each other. 

You feel Joel’s fingers dancing across your abdomen before you’re fully conscious. There’s no rhyme or reason to his movements. His other hand brushes over your temple and through your hair. Every once in a while you feel his breath and lips across your neck, up and down your arm, over your collarbone. It feels like he’s memorizing you, fear present in all of his movements even now. 

You finally open your eyes. His movements still as you look at him. There are tears in his eyes as his head falls forward, resting against yours. “I’m scared.”

“Me too.” You reach out, nails raking across his arm. 

He shudders under your touch. “I wish you told me sooner.” 

You bit your lips. “I’m sorry.” 

He lets out a deep sigh, kissing your forehead. His hand drifts to your abdomen again. You watch his eyes, so expressive filled with fear and anxiety and maybe a little bit of awe and guilt?

“I should’ve been more careful.”

You press your head to his, inhaling softly. “We.”

Joel’s fingers scrape along your jaw, his beard rough against your chin. “I like being a we.”

“Me too.”

Silence settles between the two of you. The wind knocks against the window, but it’s warm next to Joel. His arm snakes around you, tugging you closer to him. 

“I suppose you’ve told Maria?”

You can’t hide the guilty smile on your lips. “If it makes a difference, she told me I needed to tell you right away. Pretty sure she was gonna tell you herself if I didn’t do it soon.” You mess with the collar of his shirt. 

“How long do we have?”

“Figure it’ll be May. If we get that far.” You say. Joel nods and something clenches around your heart, a need to protect him, warn him of the danger. “You know there’s a lot of risks. No guarantee…” 

“One day at a time.” He kisses your cheek but you see all the fear he’s pushing away plastered to his face like a movie poster. 

Joel asks you how you are, but other than that, you don’t talk about it. You feel like a weight has lifted off your shoulders but there’s an anvil hanging above your head, waiting to drop at a moment’s notice. 

You’ve outgrown your last pair of jeans. When you manage to trade with someone, they give you a look, like they know what’s going on inside your body. 

You take more naps, sometimes at the clinic, sometimes on the couch. You’re constantly tired. Maria brings dinner to the house every few days. She never asked, but you don’t complain. 

One evening you open your eyes to find Ellie staring down at you, worry etched in her features. It startles you at first. 

“You’ve been sleeping a lot lately,” She says. 

“You’ve noticed?” You pull yourself into a seated position. It feels like someone shoved a bunch of cotton into your mouth. You reach for the now room-temperature water on your end table. 

“You only take naps when you’re sick or depressed.” You raise an eyebrow at her. She crosses her arms as if to say she knows you’re neither right now. “What’s going on?”

You finish off the water. Despite its temperature, it helps. “I’m fine.” You reach out, placing a hand on her shoulder, but it does nothing. At 17 years old, Ellie is turning into a woman before your very eyes. At times, you’re convinced any semblance of childhood has been replaced with adulthood, but there are other times you still see the slivers of the girl you met two and a half years ago. Right now, she’s the one sitting in front of you.  

“Bullshit. What’s going on? You and Joel have been acting weird.”

Had things really been that different in the past couple of weeks? You open your mouth to speak, unsure of what to say. You and Joel hadn’t talked about telling anyone, which seemed silly. You can’t hide this forever. 

The door opens and Carter bursts in with Joel on his heels. A smile instantly finds your lips. 

“Mommy! Look!” He holds up a package of seemingly new Crayola crayons. 

Your eyes widen with exaggeration. “Wow, buddy. That’s awesome.”

“John Lacy found a bunch of them on patrol. They handed them out today,” Joel smiles. “Grabbed you some colored pencils.” He hands a set of non-crayola pencils to Ellie.

“Thanks.” She smiles but is still distracted by her worry over you. 

Carter crawls up beside you, eagerly pulling out the surprisingly intact crayons one by one. Joel leans over to kiss your cheek and tousles Ellie’s hair. She makes a face of displeasure but doesn’t fight him on it.

“You two look like you were talkin about somethin serious.”

“I was trying to figure out why the two of you have been acting weird,” Ellie says. 

Joel’s drops to unreadable. He looks at you and you shrug in response. “We have to tell them eventually.”

Worry makes its home on Ellie’s face. “So something is wrong with you.with you.”

“Nothing is wrong with me.” You sigh deeply. You run your fingers over Carter’s head, kissing it. 

“You’re sure acting like there is,” She says impatiently.

“Ellie,” Joel reprimands, traces of his asshole voice laced into it. 

Ellie bites her lip. It looks like she might be fighting off tears as she looks directly at you. “I’m worried about you.”

You force a smile, leaning forward. Your forearms rest on your knees. One would think it would get easier to say each time. Instead, it’s like picking at a scab that’s not healed. You’re forcing yourself to say something, your brain isn’t ready to accept. “I’m pregnant.”

Ellie sits up straighter, her eyes widen with shock. “Oh wow…”

You wonder if the pictures fill her mind too. She saw Maria the night Elias was born. She saw the blood that covered you. Joel’s fingers brush over your shoulder, squeezing it lightly before they run over the back of your neck. You lean against him. “I’m sorry we worried you. We’re still getting used to the idea,” You say. 

She nods and then her arms around your neck. She basically knocks you backward with the force of it. “I’m glad you’re not dying.”

You squeeze her tightly, a faint lilt of humor in your voice. “Me too.”

Then her voice drops to a whisper right at your ear. “You’ll be okay. I know you will.”  

Your head rests on Joel’s bare chest that night. The full moon sends light drifting through your window, casting the room in a cool glow. You play absentmindedly with the hair on his chest. His heart beats under your ear. The room is otherwise silent. 

“I told Tommy today.” 

You nod. 

“He wanted to know why I was so quiet. Told him I was always quiet.”

That pulls a smile across your lips. “Surprised he shut up long enough to notice.”

Joel chuckles. His arm around you tightens. His lips find your forehead. “I know we’re not ready to think too much about it.”

“Don’t think it’s something we can really ignore.” You nuzzle further into him. 

“Baby steps.” He kisses your nose this time.

You quirk an eyebrow. “Baby steps? Really?” You flip onto your stomach while you still can.

He chuckles. “Poor word choice.”

You kiss his bicep and then his shoulder. He looks at you like your entire world and your stomach erupts in butterflies and twists in knots all at the same time. You still won’t let him say it, but you feel it every time he looks at you like that. 

You rest your chin on his shoulder. “What are these steps you had in mind?”

His thumb traces over your jaw and cheek. “Don’t bolt on me, okay?”

“I think it’s a little late for that.”

He chuckles and then inhales deeply. “I think we should probably share a house. I figured you’d prefer to stay here, but it’s up to you.” He searches your eyes for any signs of panic or signs that you might shut down but finds nothing. In fact, you’re so calm that it’s hard to read. 

“It would be nice to have you officially living here,” you say. It feels right to say, to think about. “And Ellie if she wants.” 

“That was easier than I’d thought it would be.”

“You pretty much live here as is.” You turn on your side, nuzzling back into him. “I’ll miss your fireplace though.”

Joel smiles. “Guess I'll just have to keep you warm instead.” 

[pseudowho]

Random question, during any of your pregnancy’s were you ever insecure about you body, how you were acting, or any of your cravings?

Me and my fiancé were talking about plans for future kids and i’m to scared to ask anyone else. could you give me a small run through of things to expect?

Thank you so much!!

Hey! I'll answer this both as a woman who has done pregnancy and birth three times, and as an experienced midwife. I don't like the 'horror story' sharing that many women do around pregnancy; it muddies the waters, and is supremely anxiety-inducing for anyone who is pregnant while hearing it.

You need to know I could write, and have written, essays on this.

As a midwife: Pregnancy is this period of unique physiological change in your body and mind, that even when it is normal (i.e. normal symptoms, not a sign of an unwell pregnancy) can be profound and lifelong.

These normal symptoms, including but not limited to nausea and vomiting (commonly referred to as morning sickness, though present at any time of day), weight gain, swelling, congestion, mood changes, appetite changes, stretch marks, heartburn and hip/joint pain, can range from barely present/absent, to severe.

Even severe pregnancy symptoms aren't always considered abnormal unless they're making you unwell (i.e. unable to keep any food or water down).

These symptoms can be altered by many of your pre-existing conditions; your weight and general health, your lifestyle and eating habits, your exercise habits, simple dumb luck/genetics, family history, mental health and body image/dysmorphia, etc.

So in that respect, in a normal pregnancy, I have seen some women who are extremely insecure and struggling to cope with the changes to their body and mind, and some women who absolutely breeze through it like pregnancy hasn't even affected them. Nowhere on this spectrum does it ever surprise me.

So now I'll talk about the average first pregnancy. As I said...the experience varies wildly.

Early on in your pregnancy (up to about 12 weeks) often feels like you're in an utter no-man's land. You feel like healthcare professionals aren't wildly interested in you; they'll take your history and 'book' your pregnancy in from (now this is based on the UK) about 8 weeks pregnancy (please note, your 'weeks of pregnancy' aren't calculated from the moment you fall pregnant, it is calculated from the first day of your last period, so in a woman with a regular 28-30 day cycle, there usually feels like there's a 'disparity' of about 2 weeks in your dates-- there isn't, this is how we calculate it). You may have an early scan or two. Essentially, we wait to see if the pregnancy is continuing; lots of miscarriages happen in the first 8 weeks. About 1/3 of pregnancies will miscarry here, in fact.

Tiredness is real at this stage. You may feel like you want to sleep constantly. It's shit that at this stage you often feel the worst, but feel like you're also just being expected to 'get on with it'. Please ask for help. If your partner isn't an equal partner pre-pregnancy, best of luck to you. You may feel utterly useless sometimes days from exhaustion, and this is normal I'm afraid.

Mid pregnancy drags, but you're usually starting to feel a bit better. The top of your uterus doesn't even begin to rise out of your pelvic brim until about 16 weeks, and the lower part of the uterus only begins to expand and form (creating that 'pregnant' belly look) from about 28 weeks, so don't try to force a bump that simply isn't there. Lots of women are very keen to look pregnant. Just chill. It's okay if you dont. Take it easy.

You do not need to eat for two; your pregnancy uses your intake more effectively when you're pregnant. Do take pregnancy specific multivitamins though. They don't need to be expensive or fancy ones; normal store bought are generally just the same, without all the fancy packaging.

Later pregnancy (the third trimester, 28 weeks onwards), you will likely notice that tiredness creeping in again. This is where your baby is largely formed structurally, and is maturing and gaining size and weight. Please ignore any and all comments from people who look at you and announce that you will have a big/small baby. They're idiots and likely wrong. Laugh it off. Here is where you may start to notice things like heartburn, hip pain, mood changes coming back again. You're heavy, and it's harder to move, and your organs are moving out of the way to facilitate a baby. Cut yourself some slack if at all possible.

So...now to me and what I had.

As Haitch: (tw/cw: suicidal ideations) So it's now a running joke, that my body was so 'good' at pregnancy, so utterly flooded with hormones, that while I became this perfect machine for growing and birthing babies, pregnancy broke me.

I spent every waking minute of the first 16 weeks nauseous and exhausted, bone deep exhausted. I had all the usual symptoms hit hard and early. I suffered severe pelvic separation, agonising pain, and @mrhaitch had to help me up from an early stage.

Thankfully, he was exquisite pregnancy support. Full is based on him, after all.

I ended up on some pretty strong medication for my heartburn, as it was severe enough that my stomach acid was damaging my vocal chords.

Worst of all was my mental health. From 26-28 weeks, your progesterone levels boom. This is normal. But this is where we discovered that progesterone is a very bad hormone for me. I developed severe antenatal depression and anxiety, and antenatal psychosis. I was paranoid, delusional, fragile and had active suicidal ideations. I had plans on how I would end my life. This is all utterly unlike me.

With my first pregnancy, our son was born at 42 weeks after a fast, normal labour, but I don't know how I didn't end my own life towards the end of my pregnancy. With my second two, we were more on it, and my lovely colleagues induced my labours from 38 weeks, purely because my mental health was so bad.

I was watched like a hawk in pregnancy 3. We knew I would lose my mind...and sadly, I did. I was medicated but It did little to help. It was at that point (October/November 2024) that I began writing on Tumblr...and here I am.

So as I have said...lots of things you could expect.

To this day in my 13 year Midwifery career, I have seen fewer than 10 women whose mental health was affected as badly my pregnancy as mine was. So I wouldn't worry too much about that.

Phew. If you have any more specific questions, I would be happy to answer.

Love,

-- Haitch xxx

[macgyvermedical]

I'm in the middle of a career change and a tentative asthma diagnosis (ie. no tests yet but it's on my record and my doctor is approaching it as such). What was healthcare like before protections were in place for people with pre-existing conditions? What should I do if I can't get health insurance? Should I try to get undiagnosed or something??? My symptoms are sporadic and usually mild so I can get through it without the inhaler if I had to, I'm just worried about losing access to all healthcare (also afab 😓) and want to be prepared to navigate things since I know it was way worse for chronic illnesses before the ACA.

The ACA was gigantic and it would be hard to talk about every aspect in this post.

Generally speaking, prior to the ACA, you essentially had three options. You could get health insurance through an employer, you could get health insurance through the state (medicaid), and you could get health insurance through an individual plan.

Seems pretty similar to today, right?

Nope.

See, the easiest way to get health insurance would be through a job. But if you had a pre-existing condition, including pregnancy or even simply being AFAB, in most states nobody legally had to cover you- including your employer. And if they did, they could say "you have health insurance for everything except the treatment of your chronic condition(s)" or make you pay significantly more for your premiums. Or, y'know, both (the idea being- if you sought medical care for one thing, you might do it again, and that would cost the insurance company profit*).

When you applied for health coverage through an employer, you had to disclose every medical problem you had ever had, including one-off problems like ear infections or broken bones. Anything could be grounds for not covering you at the outset. BUT if you didn't list a problem, and it was discovered (and they really went hard to find things), that could be grounds for rescission- the process of kicking you off insurance and forcing you to pay back money that the insurance had previously paid out for you.

If you didn't have a job or made extremely- and I mean extremely- little money, you might qualify for the state-sponsored medicaid, assuming you fell into a category that medicaid covered in your state. These categories included low-income children, some parents of children who lived at or below 64% of the federal poverty line (though in some states the parents had to have income as low as 15% of the FPL (less than $4,000/year for a family of 3)), older adults who had few assets or income, people on disability, and pregnant people up to 60 days post delivery. If you were a childless, able-bodied (at least in the eyes of the government) non-pregnant adult between 19-64, even if you made next to nothing? Pretty much forget about getting medicaid.

As far as I know, there were not a ton of changes made to medicare, the other major government insurance program for people over 65 years of age or who were severely disabled).

So what about individual plans? Well, first off, there was no marketplace (you couldn't compare plans from different companies) and no guaranteed coverage. Similar to plans through an employer, there was nothing protecting you from rescission or denial for even minor medical problems.

Most states, however, allowed something called "high risk pools" i.e. people who had pre-existing conditions and were looking for insurance could pay double what "healthy" people paid in premiums (often literally thousands of dollars per month) in order to have insurance. Even with these exorbitantly expensive plans, it would often be 12 months before they would start covering any pre-existing conditions. This meant that people had to pay their premiums and also out of pocket for their chronic care management for the first year of having insurance.

So what do you do if you're one of the near quarter of Americans who didn't have insurance through their employer, didn't qualify for medicaid, and couldn't afford the private insurance market?

You went into debt, or you died.

No, like, literally. You either agreed to medical care costing 10's or even 100's of thousands of dollars, or you didn't. For yourself or for your kids. Think about that- Would you pay (read, put yourself or your family into debt) half a million dollars for a surgery that saved your life? Your kid's life? These were the kinds of decisions that had to be made.

Back to your question:

Should you try to get un-diagnosed? Well no. That's asking for a rescission if the ACA is overturned. Contact me directly if you want more personal info about planning.

*and it's not like they aren't making a 10s-of-billions profit even with the ACA protections

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved in our archive

This is one of the big reasons we should all be masking in public.

By Jan Greene

Kaiser Permanente study supports COVID-19 vaccination of children, pregnant mothers

An analysis of unvaccinated children who had COVID-19 between 2020 and 2022 found they were more likely to be hospitalized if they were 6 months old or younger, and more likely to be treated in an intensive care unit at ages 12 to 17. The study was published in the journal Influenza and Other Respiratory Viruses.

The overall risk of hospitalization from COVID-19 remained relatively low, the authors said, but if children were hospitalized, they could face serious outcomes. Most of those admitted to the ICU had no comorbid conditions that might have made their symptoms worse.

“When you look at children who are being hospitalized, we see particular concerns for teens who may end up in the ICU or need oxygen, and infants who are too young to be vaccinated,“ said lead author Ousseny Zerbo, PhD, a research scientist with the Kaiser Permanente Division of Research. “Inoculation against COVID-19 is still an important childhood vaccination.”

The study examined records for more than 1.1 million children who were members of Kaiser Permanente Northern California between 2020 and 2022. The researchers found 423 children hospitalized for COVID-19 during that time and analyzed trends within the group. The children were all unvaccinated against COVID-19.

They found babies 6 months and younger had the highest incidence of hospitalization. There is no COVID-19 vaccine available for this age group, though research shows a mother’s vaccination against COVID-19 during pregnancy can protect the baby.

“Previous research has shown that a mother’s vaccination can transfer to her baby while she is pregnant,” Zerbo said. “The risk of hospitalization for an infant can be reduced so much by getting that done during pregnancy.” However, vaccination rates in pregnancy remain low — the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention said the average was 13% in spring 2024.

The risk of ICU admission was highest among the teenaged patients. Overall, 20.3% of the hospitalized children were admitted to the ICU, but admission was 36.1% among ages 12 to 17.

Most (91.8%) of the pediatric ICU patients with COVID-19 had no comorbidities — unrelated diseases or conditions that might make them sicker or more vulnerable to COVID.

While COVID-19 variants have been viewed as less likely to lead to hospitalization in the population overall as time has gone on, this study actually found later variants to result in higher rates of hospitalization among children. Among infants 6 months old and younger, the incidence of hospitalization for COVID-19 was 7 per 100,000 person-months during the pre-Delta variant period, 13.3 per 100,000 during the Delta period, and 22.4 per 100,000 during the Omicron period.

Despite evidence of pediatric hospitalization with COVID-19, vaccination rates in children have remained low. Just 6% of children ages 6 months to 4 years were up to date with COVID-19 vaccine in spring 2024, the CDC reports.

The study also found inequity by race or ethnicity in health outcomes among hospitalized unvaccinated children; Black and Hispanic children had higher risk of hospitalization than white children.

The study was funded by the National Institutes of Health and Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

Additional co-authors were Nicola P. Klein, MD, PhD, Julius Timbol, MS, John R. Hansen, MPH, Kristin Goddard, MPH, Evan Layefsky, BA, Pat Ross, BA, and Bruce Fireman, MA, of the Division of Research Vaccine Study Center; and Dao Nguyen, MD, and Tara L. Greenhow, MD, of The Permanente Medical Group.

Study link: onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/full/10.1111/irv.70022

[yrfemmehusband]

Female reproductive health terms you should know!

(terfs not welcome)

Dysmenorrhea: Period pain that isn't normal, i.e. any pain more than Mild cramping.

Dyspareunia: painful intercourse

Oligomenorrhea: lighter, shorter menstrual flow.

Menorrhagia: heavier, longer menstrual flow.

Ovarian cysts: a mass on or in one's ovary, can be resolved on its own, or can remain and cause complications such as a rupture.

Polycystic ovary syndrome: a chronic condition causing cysts to reoccur on the ovaries and enlarging them. Symptoms include:

Irregular periods

hormonal imbalance

facial hair

weight gain

painful periods/ ovulation

infertility

People with PCOS are at higher risk for endometrial cancer, type II diabetes heart problems and high blood pressure.

Endometriosis: A chronic condition in which a tissue similar to, but different than, the endometrial lining grows outside of the uterus instead of inside. During menstruation this tissue sheds and has nowhere to go, thus irritating surrounding organs.

Symptoms include:

Irregular periods

Dysmenorrhea

Widespread pain

Painful ovulation

Vomiting, fainting, chills, sweating, fever and brain fog during menstruation

Infertility

Severe bloating

This also puts people at a higher risk for endometrial and ovarian cancer. There are four stages to Endo as it is a progressive disease, with 3/4 being more severe. The average time it takes to be diagnosed is 7 years.

Adenomyosis: A chronic disease similar and comorbid to endometriosis in which a tissue similar to the endometrial lining grows inside of the uterine wall. Symptoms are nearly identical to endometriosis but more difficult to detect.

Many people are diagnosed post menopause, by fault of the medical system, but it can and does develop much before then.

Ovarian cancer: cancer of the ovary(ies).

Endometrial cancer: cancer of the endometrium, the inner lining of the uterus.

Endometrial cyst, or chocolate cyst: cystic lesions from endometriosis.

Tilted uterus: the uterus is positioned pointing towards the back or severely to the front of the pelvis instead of a slight tilt towards at the cervix. Can cause painful sex and periods.

Pelvic floor dysfunction: inability to control your pelvic muscles. Comorbid with many things and is highly comorbid with endometriosis. Can cause pain and incontinence.

Vulvodynia: chronic and unexplained pain at the opening of the vagina.

Interstitial cystitis: a chronic condition where cysts form on the inside of the bladder and urinary tract and cause symptoms similar to that of a UTI.

Pre-eclampsia: a condition occurring in pregnancy where the blood supply between the fetus and the pregnant person is affected and can cause irregular blood pressure, swelling, and in more severe cases headache, nausea and vomiting, a burning sensation behind the sternum, shortness of breath and potentially death if untreated.

Endometritis: an infection or irritation of the uterine lining. Is not the same as endometriosis and is treatable but can cause pain, bleeding, swelling, general discomfort and fever, and more.

Pelvic inflammatory disease: an infection of the reproductive organs

Ectopic pregnancy: a pregnancy that is attached to the outside of the uterus. Can be fatal if left untreated.

There are many more I could probably add but if you see something missing, please add it!