August 14th, 2014: Documented As the Farthest I’ve Ever Been

Where I am: 10w1d
Medications: Crinone
Symptoms: tired, sore boobs, nausea, slow digestion, food/smell hypersensitivity and aversions, congestion, constipation


Oh…my…goodness.

Lucky Bug is totally hanging in there. Measuring between 10w1d and 10w2d, with a strong heartbeat of 178.

Today makes it official: this pregnancy, my third, is the farthest I have ever been.

Holy shitballs.

The day started off rough. I woke up early to a text from my dad saying my mom was not going to work today. Not giving me a ride to and from work. Not giving me a ride to and from my appointment. So I called him still half-asleep and told him I might as well not bother going in until after the appointment since it would be a waste of time for him. He told me he would drive me today, wherever I needed to go.

So I got up, and since I was up, I took a shower. I mosied around getting dressed. Put on my “Lucky Bug” jewelry for good luck, and tucked the little mascot in my pocket. I had a glass of orange juice and an ice cream sandwich (don’t judge). I then began to chug water because, at 10w, the chances of her doing an abdominal were higher than not. My father came to get me and off we went.

I cycled between going numb and panicking. They took us late, which is unusual. I spent the better part of fifteen minutes in the waiting room, feet and hands shaking, anxiously keeping my Twitter friends updated on the status of my insanity. The same tech as always, Fran, took us in. I had a full bladder, and she intended to do an abdominal first, but she wanted my bladder empty just in case. I told her how nervous I was, and she knew to check immediately to make sure LB was okay in there. It took maybe three seconds from the moment she turned on the monitor before she said “It’s okay. It’s okay.” And I let out a deep breath as she checked my ovaries and conducted her measurements.

My dad was in the chair beside me, and I could hear him laughing and when Fran asked if he saw this, and saw that, he would say yes, and I could hear the emotion in his voice. I couldn’t look. I knew he was crying. I knew if I looked, I’d cry more. My eyes were glued to the screen anyway while I watched little LB wriggle around.

The baby was active. Pumping his or her little fists and legs all over the place. I asked Fran if I could take some quick video for J, because he was away, and she said even though it was against the rules…she would allow it just this once. I love her.

Once she had taken all her measurements and confirmed LB was measuring right on time, and the heartbeat was strong as ever, she told me to video quick as she got a perfect view and the baby was moving. I turned on my iPhone camera and almost instantly, like the baby knew, s/he started waving. Once again, I was crying. Silently…not sobbing. Little tears. But tears nonetheless. I got about 30secs of good movement and waving and then turned it off, telling Fran I was good, just grateful for the chance to video at all.

I didn’t need a transvaginal…she got everything she needed from the outside. She congratulated me, and then almost impulsively hugged me tight, and told me everything was looking really good. And then I was done!

I waited another 20mins to see the RE, for all of maybe three minutes. He went over what I had discussed with the endocrinologist (forgot to tell you guys about that, more on it later) and told me that not only does everything look great, but since I’ve passed the point of my last miscarriage, the chances of this pregnancy proceeding look better than ever. He shook my hand, wished me luck, and told me he looks forward to seeing me around the office sporting a nice healthy bump in the coming months.

While we waited, I texted J and sent him the video. He didn’t respond for a while (probably busy), but when he did, he just couldn’t stop saying he loved me. I asked if he watched the video, if he was happy, if he saw the baby waving for him, and he just said yes and so happy and he loved me so much. I can’t wait to talk to him tonight. I’m so glad he was at least able to see what I saw today.

So, my dearest friends, my companions, my supporters, that’s that. I am 10w today. I am 1/4th of the way through this pregnancy. My chances get better every day. LB is hanging on, s/he is certainly a fighter. I am in awe. I am so in love. I am still so terrified, and I’m sure the anxiety will continue to rise exponentially before every appointment…but for now, I’m blissfully happy. I wish I could feel this way all the time.

Ye Old Obligatory Post

Honestly…

I’m not sleeping.

I’m stressed out at work as I have less than three weeks before I transfer to my new permanent full-time position.

The whole house-thing is stuck in limbo until this weekend when J and I will up and out ourselves to look at yet some more candidates.

I’m panicking about the fact that we only have one car, and I start school in less than four weeks.

I’m panicking about my stupid leg, despite the progress I’ve made (it’s never enough, is it?).

So, yeah. I’m tapped. I can’t even type up a real post for y’all. And writing yesterday’s post about Robin Williams really sapped me of a lot of energy, too. Emotional posts can do that to you.

So, here you go. Here’s an absolute shit post in which I just bitch about how tired and stressed I am. I’ve also been without a husband for nearly two weeks, so, that’s not helping matters.

Roll on, Friday. ❤

Shut Up, Stupid Pregnancy Apps

Where I am: 9w7d
Medications: Crinone
Symptoms: tired, sore boobs, nausea, slow digestion, food/smell hypersensitivity and aversions, congestion, constipation


Today, most of my pregnancy apps (I honestly have too many—there isn’t just one that I like entirely) were sending me push notifications announcing the start of my tenth week (some apps/docs would consider 9w7d as 10w0d…so confusing). “Congratulations, you’re ten weeks! Check in to see what baby is up to now and how big s/he is!”

Um, no thanks. I don’t want to know.

O_o

Okay, I know that sounds harsh. And maybe a bit terrible. But I can’t help it. The absolute worst thing about not knowing Baby Bean was gone the last four weeks I was pregnant was that the entire time, I was reading my baby books and reading my BabyBump app daily tips and weekly info like the baby was still growing. I was learning all the things a baby would be doing, and look like, at 10…11…12 weeks.

Only, s/he wasn’t. Bean measured 9w at our NT scan at a little over 12w. All of those things I was imagining weren’t real. They were in my head.

(‘Scuse me one moment… fuck you, RPL PTSD. Fuck you. Okay, I’m back.)

So…tomorrow. Tomorrow, I will look. If I can, if it makes sense for me to look.

Which…if I was being optimistic, I would say, it will make sense. And I’m trying to be optimistic.

I am.

It’s just…hard.

This is uncharted territory. A good ultrasound tomorrow would officially document the farthest I’ve ever been with a pregnancy. I mean…10w just doesn’t seem real right now. I keep closing my eyes and trying to remember the sound of the little Bug’s heart beating on that Doppler only a week ago. A heartbeat, right on the cusp of the Red Zone. Right around the time it all went wrong last time. I try to imagine that sound, inside my tummy, when I can. Visualize the baby getting bigger.

But it’s harder than it looks. It really, really is. As I sit here typing this, my hands are shaking and my heart is racing. My husband just started texting me for the first time today (we’ve both been quite busy) and I told him how nervous I am and he said, “It is going to be all good.” I so hope he is right. I wish he would be by my side tomorrow. Good or bad. Good because I want him to see in person how Lucky Bug has grown, and bad because I need him there.

My mom will be there, but it won’t be the same.

It’s funny…I haven’t been sleeping well the last week or so. I toss and turn a lot. It could be the pregnancy…it could be something else. I was talking with my mom about it today, about how I was up late…and then slept restlessly…and she asked me if there was something wrong or something bothering me. I was quick to say no, but I remembered tomorrow and told her I was just nervous about tomorrow. Preparing for the worst.

She told me not to think like that. I sighed.

It could be everything else, too. The lack of two cars. The rehabilitation I still have pending on my leg. The absolutely-final-can’t-turn-back-now deadline on our lease just tick, tick, ticking away. The lack of a house. The school year starting in less than four weeks. My new job, starting in less than three weeks. This pregnancy. Everything.

No wonder I’m not sleeping. I’m losing my damn mind.

I almost cried today in my cube, randomly, out of the blue, for no reason. I just got anxious and got that, “What if it is all over tomorrow?” terror squeezing the life out of me, and I almost lost it. Earlier this week, I tweeted something along the lines of, “Sometimes I can’t breathe because I think, if this all ends, I don’t know if I’ll come back from it this time.”

I truly feel that way sometimes. I feel so close to this baby now that I can’t imagine going back. I feel like I’m walking on thin ice. I feel like the further I go, out into the middle of the pond, the more likely it is that I’ll fall through. And I wonder if I’ll have the strength to pull myself out.

You’re in the middle of treatments, or in the middle of trying again, and you think you have the strength to get through. You tell yourself, “Even if I have another loss, I still need to try. I want a baby that badly, that I’ll keep trying.” But when you’re in it? When you’re pregnant, and every week that passes brings a new milestone that makes you feel that much more connected? You start to lose your fucking shit, man. You start to wonder if you really can take another loss. You start to wonder if after the last ten weeks, you can really say goodbye to another baby.

I don’t know if I can.

Shit. I feel like a terrible person writing this. It just dawned on me. If I go in there tomorrow and Lucky Bug is perfectly fine…I’ll feel terrible. I wish I could be positive. I’m scared my negativity will jinx me. Or affect the health of the pregnancy.

Why can’t I be more positive?

This has clearly been a stream-of-consciousness post. I hope you’re enjoying this little trip inside my brain. It’s a mess, ain’t it? Jesus.

Okay. About twelve hours to go. (I probably won’t sleep well.) My ultrasound is at 9:30AM (EST) with the follow-up and (hopefully) graduation appointment with my RE immediately afterwards.

I am going to go tomorrow wearing my lucky ladybug necklace and bringing my little mascot with me. I don’t care if it’s stupid. I can’t have my husband, so I’ll take what he gave me as good luck charms instead.

Tomorrow, I am hoping to see a nearly baby-like-looking baby in my tummy. I’m hoping to hear a strong heartbeat. I am going to take deep breaths, and stay calm, and focus on sending all the good vibes to this sweet little one that I can.

Please…please let my hopes be reality this time. Please. Please, please, please…

Depression is a Disease, Not a Choice

I know this is a blog for infertility and miscarriage. I know that talking about Robin Williams and the cause of death may seem off-topic to you. And if talk of depression, suicide, self-harm, or anything similar could be triggering or upsetting to you, read no further. Otherwise, please hear what I have to say.

Note: I am open to healthy debate and discussion about mental health issues in the US, or around the world. However, please know that if your comment is in any way rude or destructive to the cause, it will be deleted without incident. My blog, my rules. If you have nothing constructive to say, don’t say anything at all. Continue reading

Baby Steps

Fantastic news! I am now allowed to do partial weight-bearing!

And there was much rejoicing.

No, but there really was. It is an amazing feeling to be able to make some progress. The only thing is, it’s scary as hell. I am only allowed to bear about 25% of my body weight (I’ll spare myself the embarrassment on how many pounds that means) so I went home and pressed on a scale with my bad leg until I reached that amount, to try and get an understanding for how much weight that is.

But when I’m walking, it’s hard to tell! And on top of that, my leg is so weak. I honestly underestimated how much strength a person can lose in 6 weeks. And I’m so nervous that I’m going to put too much weight on it. And then I’m nervous I’m not putting enough. And then my leg was sore yesterday in the knee area, probably because it’s all like, “Hey, what are you doing? I’ve been chilling for almost two months. Why are you doing this to me?”

But that’s life. Hardly anything is ever really “easy.”

But anyway…so that’s happening. I see my orthopedist in two weeks and we will see how far I’ve progressed since then. I told him I want to go back to school in September, so he is going to get me into physical therapy so I can get back on my feet sooner rather than later. Progress, progress, progress, baby.

The house thing is kind of stuck right now. I need this weekend off. Since we got back from vacation, we have looked at houses for at least four hours straight at least once per weekend. I need a damn break. J can’t really take a day off because he’ll have to make it up, so technically his AT ends after 5:00 on the 14th. The plan is for him to come home that night, spend Friday and Saturday with me to look at houses, and then he will return Sunday to make up four days (I thought it was three, I was wrong, damnit). At least that’s if his commander approves the days. They have to make sure he has something to do.

So, this weekend, I am relaxing. I am hoping my good friend comes to visit. Although since she’s been home, she’s been spotty with texting me back and won’t decide on a day, so I have this overly paranoid fear that she’s avoiding me (because of the fact that I hardly talk to anyone from “the group” we both used to be a part of? I don’t know). But whatever. My best friend is coming over tomorrow and we are going to the movies or something. We will probably get Panera, again, because their macaroni and cheese is AMAZEBALLS. I’ll catch up on some TV, and sleep, and…relax.

And partially bear weight on my bad leg. It actually hurts less today than yesterday (which is when I started writing this post). Score.

Wow. This post is all over the damn place. I’m going to go now. Because I’m at work. And should probably be working.

So…yeah. Bye!

Heartbeats Are What Keep Me Breathing Now

Where I am: 9w1d
Medications: Crinone
Symptoms: tired, sore boobs (and rash), nausea, slow digestion, food/smell hypersensitivity and aversions, congestion, hemorrhoids, constipation


Another post with the word “Heartbeat” in the title?

I think so. Because right now, that is all that matters to me.

My OB intake appointment was…for the lack of a better word, perfect. I saw the Certified Nurse Midwife (CNM) that I saw with my last pregnancy, and she recognized me. She was happy to see me again, of course, since the last time we met was the follow-up for my second D&E. We went through the motions for screening…she offered the MaterniT21 test to me, which I need to call my insurance about and discuss with J (if it’s not covered, if we want to spend the $$ on it, etc). She asked about my symptoms, I ran through my list of questions with her (a few topics: hemorrhoids, boob rash, safe acne medication, getting calcium and Vitamin D supplements to help with my leg healing). My mom was there, helping me remember all the things I wanted to ask about.

And then we discussed my nether region. I had a Papsmear last pregnancy, so she said we could skip it for now. I have also had quite a few people up in there lately looking around, so she said she wouldn’t do a pelvic. She did not want me to start spotting and lose my shit over it. This was so kind of her. She said she would do a visual just to make sure everything looked okay. And then she asked me to undress so she could check me all over, so my mom hid behind the curtain while I undressed and then gathered her things as the CNM came back in and said she was going to wait for me in the waiting room to give me some privacy.

And the CNM looked at her and said, “Well I was going to try and listen for the heartbeat, so if you’d like me to do that first, you can stay for that?”

And I swear, my heartrate increased dramatically. I was excited. Nervous. Panicked. Anxious. All at once. I was afraid she wouldn’t find it. It’s so early! There was no way she’d find it!

But she did. It took maybe a minute, minute and a half, but she found it. Way low in my uterus. Lucky Bug’s heart is beating at 180bpm, which the CNM said was right on target. It was music to my ears. I know that’s corny, but it was. That’s the best I’ve got. It was muffled by static, and a little hard to hear, but I heard it. Fast, strong. So did my mom. She stayed behind the curtain but she was happy and saying “That’s my grandbaby,” and she was crying of course. I’m over here trying to hold it together and she’s blubbering like a whale. Sheesh.

I wish I had recorded it with my phone for my husband. That’s my only regret today.

The CNM was so understanding about my RPL, and told me if I’d like to come in every other week or every week to listen to the baby’s heartbeat in the office, I could. She said she wants to keep my anxiety minimal and is willing to do whatever it takes to accomplish that. So I have my ultrasound a week from today, and then I will see her again in two weeks for a Doppler and short visit. And then a week from that, I’ll meet my OB doctor and get to listen in again. After that, I can schedule quick little appointments every week or every other week to come in and just make sure Lucky Bug is okay.

They have also officially pushed up my due date to March 11th, 2015. This morning, I was 8w6d (a hard day, as that was the last day we knew Baby Bean was alive). But as of this afternoon, I am officially 9w1d. Got to do that little time-travel hop I was talking about sooner than I thought! So that is a relief.

I won’t lie, I was (and I guess, still kind of am) flying on cloud nine after hearing the heartbeat. My mom is of course talking about names, and that I’m going to be a mom, and she’s going to be a grandmother, and blah blah blah…and I can’t blame her, she doesn’t get it. I told her we weren’t out of the woods yet and she said she thought so. Of course she does. She doesn’t know what it’s like on the other side of all this. But that’s okay.

But anyway. Yes, happy. Excited. Relieved. But of course the fear is starting to creep in again. With every positive appointment, I get closer and closer to this baby. In a way, each appointment is amazing because the baby is doing well, but it’s devastating because it is that much move developed and I am that much more attached and it would just kill me to lose it the farther I get.

Such a shitty mindset.

Anyway. Focusing on the good. Yet another week has passed, and Lucky Bug is hanging in there. That is wonderful news. I can’t wait to see him or her on the ultrasound next week (10w1d). The farthest I’ve ever seen a baby get was almost 9w, so it is going to be insane to see one further developed than that.

(By the way, I’m sorry I haven’t been responding to all of your comments! I’ve had a lot of them recently, so I will be going back and responding to each probably later today or tomorrow. I’ve read them all though, and thank you in general for all your good thoughts and vibes and prayers. You’re all so sweet. ❤ )

The Ever-So-Fun RPL Struggle: Trying Not to Overthink Everything

Where I am: 8w5d
Medications: Crinone
Symptoms: tired, sore boobs, nausea, slow digestion, food/smell hypersensitivity and aversions, congestion, friggin’ hemorrhoids, constipation, are you grossed out yet?


Goodness, I am trying. I really am. But shit, I am overthinking everything in the world.

Like the cramps I had this morning. No bleeding *knocks feverishly on wood* and the cramps aren’t even painful. But I feel it, and I check the calendar on my app to confirm how far along I am (where I am based on ovulation and how far along Lucky Bug is measuring are different so I occasionally forget or get confused), and terror floods like ice-water right through my heart. The impending doom that is associated with feeling like it’s all over smacks me in the face.

It sucks.

(Also, the cramps are/were probably growing pains. Duh. *sigh*)

With every scan, there’s momentary elation. Relief. Happiness. But it doesn’t take long for the dread and fear to creep back in. Honestly, I’m sick of it. But I guess I have to take it as it comes. RPL was the hand I was dealt. I hope this makes me a stronger person in the end. I hope it makes me a stronger mother.

Some things I forgot to mention last time I posted: Crinone and baby aspirin is over and done with as of August 31st. I’ll be 12w3d on September 1st (which hopefully means Bug will be measuring somewhere between there and 12w5d-ish). That’s something to be celebrated! When I think of the fact that I’m barely 9w, the second trimester seems so far away. But when I think of the fact that I’ll be 12w before the end of the month, it doesn’t seem so far. It actually seems alarmingly close.

I feel like with my first two pregnancies, the beginning weeks dragged. I was alone for the first one, and I insisted on waiting several weeks between the first ultrasound and when I actually had the D&E because I was afraid they could be wrong. So that would explain the drag there. And then, with Baby Bean, when I thought I was 8w along, I was actually only 6w along. And then I went four weeks between ultrasounds before the D&E. So I started out moving backwards, and then had so much wait time at the end there. I also wasn’t working, and was only going to school, so I had very little to distract me or help the days fly by.

But with this pregnancy…yeah, sure, the two-week wait time between scans has felt long. But overall, time is passing quickly. I have so much going on, from my leg to house-hunting every weekend to working every week, that the days in bulk seem to go by fast with little pockets of minute-by-minute or hour-by-hour drags here and there. And it excites me that Bug has been measuring ahead consistently since the first scan, so maybe eventually they will change how far along I am on paper and change my due date and I can “time travel” through a couple of days at some point.

Anyway…only 8 days until my scan. I’ll be 9w6d at that point, so hopefully Bug will be measuring consistently ahead a little bit at 10w1d. My husband will still be in training, so my mom will be taking me. I was just discussing it with one of my RPL friends and as I was telling her how panic- and fear-inducing this scan is going to be, I suddenly felt this urge to call my husband and beg him to get permission from his commander to take the morning off to be with me. The thought of facing another loss without him beside me, without him to hold me, is almost more than I can bear. I love my mom, but I don’t think it’ll be the same. I need him.

But I can’t do that. He already has days to make up before the end of the fiscal year, which is fast-approaching, due to the weekend after the accident and the day he took off for the last scan. His promotion is fresh, and I don’t want him constantly leaving duty because of me. So instead, I’m going to try to be strong, and I won’t let him know how absolutely dead-petrified I am, and I’m going to think positive.

Thinking positive means the only sadness that day will be that his second-hand viewing of the ultrasound will have to suffice. (I’m going to have my mom videotape it on my phone.)

OB intake appointment is tomorrow. I’ll post an update in the afternoon to let you know how that goes. I had a Papsmear with my last pregnancy sometime in November, so I wonder if she will do another. I did have bacterial vaginosis at my last one (fancy word for “too much bad bacteria in your vajayjay”) so I feel like at least a pelvic is in order, and probably a swab. I’ve also been subtle about it by only putting it under the symptoms part of these posts, but I’m also having another issue “down there” that she will probably want to investigate, just to make sure it isn’t out of control. I’m just dreading the smear because there’s a potential for spotting.

I don’t care if she warns me ahead of time. I’ve had spotting before between 5-8w with both miscarriages. I haven’t had it yet with this pregnancy and I’m nearly 9w. I will flip a lid if I start spotting, “normal and expected” or not. Ugh.

I have a public post coming up that I’m working on, but I doubt I’ll have another one tomorrow. So I will plan for the public post to have links to this and tomorrow’s post-intake protected post. So check back on the public post tomorrow for the new link. It will be added in there once the new post is up and running.

And that’s all, folks. I’m glad I’ve been blogging a little more consistently. I find it’s the hardest to do so right before a scan, as the nerves and anxiety and melancholy get the best of me and I don’t have the focus or energy to write. So fear not if, next week, I get quiet. I’ll just be withdrawing again, fearful of bad news and just trying to will the days to fly by so I can get to scan day.

Highs and Lows

After an emotional roller-coaster of a morning Friday, my husband and I met our realtor to look at yet some more houses. I believe it was the second or third in the lineup, but we fell in love with a house. Instantly. We liked it more than any other house we’d seen, and it was like we just knew.

This was the house.

Of course, my husband was leaving the next morning for two weeks (annual training), so he signed all the documents Friday night and we made the decision that if my parents “signed off” on it (i.e. didn’t look at me with wide disbelieving eyes and ask why the hell we would be interested in such a dump), I would put the offer in on Saturday morning.

The next morning, my parents and I went back to the house. I still loved it as much as the day before. My parents loved it. Cut to my realtor’s office, signing the paperwork, signing a check for a thousand dollar deposit, and being told we would hear by 7:00PM that night.

Well, I got the call around 6:00PM saying the current owner was a cop and worked weird hours, so we would have to wait until the following afternoon. His realtor then told my realtor that there were three offers on the table. Since we had lowballed by only $4,000, I called J and we decided to go full price. We wanted this house. We loved this house. And we were going to prove it by giving this guy exactly what he was asking for.

Well, apparently it wasn’t what he was looking for.

Our offer was rejected. I found out yesterday evening around 5:30PM. I was bummed.

I just really thought this house was the one. I was so excited. My cousin came to visit yesterday and I spent hours with her talking about how we would decorate this room and that room, and how I wanted to renovate the upstairs bathroom, and maybe put an island in the kitchen in a few years, and blah blah blah.

So, we’re back to square one. Motherfuck.

But when we decided to go full-price with our offer, we promised ourselves that we’d done everything we could to get this house, and if we didn’t get it then it wasn’t meant to be. I have to stick with that, in my head. It wasn’t meant to be. There’s something better out there that’s perfect for us.

It’s Monday morning, and I’m exhausted. I’m lonely; it’s just me and the cats at home when no one is visiting. I barely got enough sleep Friday night as J was packing and getting ready for AT, and then he was up before the sun and I had a hard time falling back asleep. I went to bed late Saturday night and woke up early involuntarily Sunday morning. And then I stayed up late again last night!

Because J is out of town, my mom is picking me up and dropping me off at work. She works 7:00AM-3:30PM, so I have to get up way earlier than I’m used to for two weeks. No fun.

And that’s about it. I’m working all week. Possibly seeing a very good friend this coming weekend. Hopefully having dinner over my parents’ house sometime this week.

I live an exciting life.

“A Perfect Little Heartbeat”

Where I am: 8w2d
Medications: Crinone
Symptoms: tired, sore boobs, nausea, slow digestion, food (and smell) aversions, congestion, headaches—and hemorrhoids?!


It was 174bpm, to be exact.

Friday morning, we woke up early and drove into the city to the same place I went to on that unfortunate Christmas Eve. As we walked in the entrance and the long, incredibly long entryway (it’s a strangely long building) to the elevators past registration, I could see the events of seven months ago clear as day.

I remembered walking in, nervous. I remembered the scan, which I’ve already told you all about. But then there was the exit. Walking through the waiting room full of pregnant women, to the elevators, down to the first floor, down that long entryway, through the streets to the train station. Crying, the whole time—me, a person who’d rather die than cry in public.

I remembered the devastation, the heavy emptiness in my belly, the disbelief. The grief.

But this day…this day was different.

We got to the waiting room and they sent us right in. My hands shook as I removed my leg brace, then my jeans, then my underwear. We weren’t in the same scan room as before, thankfully. Like the practice by my apartment, this one had a scan room specifically for those receiving fertility treatment. There was just the one monitor—no TV screen mounted on the wall to possibly display the horrible truth.

The technician told me she would take the measurements all for herself first, before showing me anything. With a tremor in my voice, I said “Okay,” and my husband gently brushed my hair with one hand and squeezed my hand with the other. All the lights but one had been shut off, all but one soft light directly over my head. I stared at it and tried to control my breathing, but I felt my whole body shaking. Tears rolled down my cheeks involuntarily as I mentally prepared myself for what I felt was the inevitable.

And then, probably because she saw I was about to fall to pieces right there, the technician turned the monitor towards me. She pointed to the bright spot and said, “See there? That’s your baby’s heart. It’s beating furiously, honey. Okay?”

I let my breath out, and more tears came, and as she turned the monitor back so she could do her thing, I whispered “Okay” and looked up in my husband’s eyes. “Okay.”

Lucky Bug is measuring ahead (according to estimated ovulation, anyway) a few days. At 7w7d, Bug measured 8w2d and had a heartbeat of 174. It’s brain is forming—the technician pointed out the dark shadow where it would be in a few weeks. We also saw what was left of the yolk sac, the cord, and the very thin and almost indiscernible amniotic sac. And we saw that heart. That beautiful, strong heart beating away.

photo 1

My husband surprised me with two presents: a Swarovski ladybug, small enough to fit in the palm of my hand. This he gave to me in the car on the way to the appointment. He then surprised me with a necklace and earrings set: simple, small Swarovski earrings to match a simple, small necklace: a flower, with a tiny ladybug perched on it. This he gave to me in the exam room while we waited in between the ultrasound and the consultation with my RE. I cried both times.

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I cried a lot that day, actually.

My RE is confident this pregnancy is going to progress normally. In his words, “We’ve done everything we can to fix what needed fixing. The polyps, the hyperprolactinemia, your hypothyroidism…you have done all you can.”

Speaking of which, my TSH is at an astoundingly perfect 2.42, a level it has never ever been before. I take this as a good sign, and I hope it stays near this level for the rest of this trimester.

I asked my RE about two things: an additional ultrasound between now and 12 weeks (for obvious reasons), and an at-home Doppler.

Though I should have fully graduated to the regular OB team this week, my request for another ultrasound will delay that two more weeks…somewhat. My RE was kind enough to offer me one final check at 10w on August 14th, so I will graduate and say goodbye then. I still have my OB intake appointment this Thursday, though. And after the next ultrasound, it’ll only be another two weeks until the NT scan.

As for the Doppler, well, my RE advised against it. He said it would drive me crazy. He once again reassured me that my problems seemed very 1st trimester-influential, and that once I pass 13w I will be good to go. I haven’t made a decision yet whether I will get one or not, but I appreciated his input.

So there you have it. I’m officially in the “Red Zone.” About five weeks and I’ll be past it. In that time, I have two scans and a regular OB appointment. I think I’ll make it, if everything goes well.

And of course there’s more to that day. And the weekend. Highs and lows. But that’s for the public post.

I’ll leave you with this: I love this baby more and more every day. It’ll take a lot of strength for me to make it in one piece to the next ultrasound, and I’m sure I’ll be just as ready to fall apart then as I was a few days ago. But I love this baby. I want it to stay with me. With every scan I pass with flying colors, I feel relief for a few moments, and then dread as I realize I’m becoming more and more attached. I am attached. I love…this…baby.

Hang around, Lucky Bug. Mommy and Daddy want you to stay. ❤