Where I am: 11w4d
Medications: Crinone (single-digit countdown until the last day I take this)
Symptoms: still tired, still sore boobs, still nausea, still slow digestion, still food/smell hypersensitivity and aversions, still congestion, still constipation
I still have symptoms. I guess I still feel pregnant.
And yet, that doesn’t stop the paralyzing fear about tomorrow.
I just keep thinking about Christmas Eve. I know, it’s not the same. I know this pregnancy has progressed much, much better than my pregnancy with Baby Bean. I know that I’ve already surpassed where I was that time. Lucky Bug is a fighter. So strong, defying the odds. Come hell or high water, this little one has kept going.
But I cannot stop thinking about that day.
I think about that moment when the technician turns on the machine, and the picture shows up on that giant wall monitor. I’m scared of what I’ll see. I’m scared I won’t see an 11w5d fetus, but something smaller. Underdeveloped. Without a heartbeat. I’m scared of that deafening silence of the technician. I’m scared of the questions about my LMP, and the gestational age at the last scan. I’m scared of the dreaded “I need to consult with a doctor, I’ll be right back” line. I’m scared of the moment one of them reaches out their hand and touches mine, gently, to tell me my baby has died.
And I know…I really do, I know. I have to be positive. And I’m not saying that’s what I’m expecting. In fact, a small part of me is hoping—and expecting—to see a healthy LB in there. Based on how I’ve been feeling. But that’s the problem. I’ve found a part of myself has slipped into that sense of comfort, into that sense of maybe everything will be okay. It was so hard not to say anything to my brother and his girlfriend today at her graduation party. I asked my brother if he had any free time next weekend, and of course he gave me the runaround. They’re going away, he’s got to work, yadda yadda yadda. Completely unaware of how desperate I am to sit them down and tell them of the last nearly two years. Of the heartbreak we’ve been through, the struggle. And of the good, of our little LB.
This is what terrifies me. How desperate I feel in wanting to make this real. In wanting to make this different.
I got a gift certificate from The Paper Store for my birthday, and since we’re on a money crunch, I used it to buy a card and a gift for my brother’s girl (and some other things). I made it to the checkout and commented to J that it kind of stunk that I was using my birthday gift certificate on someone else and not even anything for me! He told me to go pick something out…so I picked out a onesie. Green, with the Red Sox logo on it. Similar to the jersey I got for myself for the infamous Saint Patty’s Day/birthday party where I found out about my friend’s close-to-mine pregnancy. LB is due March 11th, which means s/he could be around for that holiday. If s/he is, I’ll be dressing him or her in that onesie.
And what a difference a year will make.
So if you came into this post thinking I was filled with dread…you’re wrong. I’m filled with hope. Which is possibly more terrifying than dread. Because I am going to lose that much more of myself if tomorrow goes poorly.
I’m going to try my best to sleep tonight. I unfortunately need to wake up early so I can work from home a few hours, as my appointment is at 10:00AM. There’s no point in waking J to drive me to work for 2 hours, just to pick me up and bring me to my appointment, just to drive me back to work, and then pick me up another four hours later. So I am hoping to keep busy with work, as I have things I need to get done.
So I leave you with this: my sweet little Bug, I hope you can hear me in there. I want you to know how much I love you. I want you to know how badly I don’t want you to leave me. I hope you’re safe and thriving in there. We can’t wait for you to be with us, but we can wait. I want you to know that. We can wait another six months for you. We’ve waited this long for you already. So you stay in there as long as you need, and we’ll be here. I love you. Don’t leave me.