Cautiously Optimistic (6w6d)

Two appointments in two days. Yesterday's appointment was the paperwork, exam and blood work and today was the much awaited ultrasound. Yesterday, I was freaked out and not feeling very optimistic. Today, I'm still freaked out, but there is a sense of cautious optimism.

I started writing a blog post yesterday entitled "Feeling like a fraud" because that's how I felt yesterday when I left the doctor's office. I'm starting with a new (civilian) ob/gyn practice and I love them. The quality of care is so much better than my experience with the naval hospital, but it's also frustrating to think that maybe if I'd been with them last time... I might not be here now.

The problem is, I just don't feel pregnant. Sure, I'm tired. Sure, I've had a few mild symptoms. But I don't think my mind (or my heart) will let me believe it and feel it. Not yet. So I felt like a fraud as staff member after staff member congratulated me yesterday. "Thanks," I would respond, with a half-hearted smile. I felt like I needed to tell them it was too soon to congratulate me. Then I went back today and I was okay with being congratulated. Being pregnant is a bizarre experience.

I saw the heartbeat today, fluttering right along in just the right spot. I'm not sure how to describe the feelings that were careening through me at that moment. Imagine looking at your uterus (you know, if you have one) on a giant flat panel television screen, expecting to see... nothing. A blob, a void. And instead, you see a little bright spot pulsing in the center of a lighter bright spot. Wow. Shock and fear and hope and panic and happiness and back to fear. It was there, it's real. For now, a little voice whispered.

Of course it was real last time, too, even though I didn't get to see it. And, once again, I was quoted that statistic: "95% of pregnancies go to term once cardiac activity is detected." Been there, heard that, and here I am again. So. Cautious. Optimistic. Freaked out. Emotional. That's me. I know some women start falling in love with their child from that very first heartbeat. I can tell you I didn't. I can't. I won't let myself. I saw it and I was happy, but there was no rush of maternal love. Even after seeing it, it's still hard to believe it's real.

Yesterday's appointment was a mixed bag of news. It seems I have another breast lump (I had a biopsy a little over a year ago and it turned out to be a cyst) and my thyroid gland is enlarged. These issues worry me, especially the breast lump. I can no longer think of just my health, I have to think about the pregnancy. I already had other worries related to the pregnancy-- the possibility of miscarriage still looms and there are the fibroids to worry about, but now I have additional things stealing my happiness. It's scary to go from thinking of only myself and being in a rush to do whatever it takes to make myself well to having to slow down and proceed with caution. Of course, the hope is that it's nothing to worry about and I can focus on being pregnant. That's the hope. Until I know for sure, I feel torn in different directions. Freaked out. Quietly, under the surface where no one can see. But there is a little voice inside me that is screaming very loudly that I was absolutely crazy to get pregnant at my age.

Melinda, the nurse I saw yesterday and today, said, "You're very high risk." No matter how many times I hear that, it never sounds any better. But she also said, "Good for you, getting pregnant on your own at your age! And twice!" That balances out the high risk part, I think. My body is still doing it's reproductive job-- and that has to mean something, right?

It's going to be a long, stressful road. As the doctor said today when I commented on all the possible complications, "Pregnancy is a dangerous condition, but at the end you get a prize!" I have the two pictures the ultrasound technician gave me to remind me that I really am pregnant, no matter how I feel. The embryo measured exactly 6 weeks and 6 days-- right on target. That little blob will become a fetus that will become a baby that will become a child. My child. Our child.


Wow. Happy... and freaked out.

Feeling Hopeful (7w1d)

I woke up this morning hoping I wouldn’t have a reason to go to the hospital. I had intended to call on the doctor’s office on Monday, tell them I was having some bleeding and convince them I needed an ultrasound.

Things started out well, just some cramping and very little bleeding. I was hopeful. But as the day progressed, it got worse. By six o’clock, I knew I needed to go to the emergency room. So I went—alone—armed with two books and a notebook, just in case I was waiting all night. Thankfully, it wasn’t that bad.

Urine sample, triage, brief exam, ultrasound. I was waiting for the ultrasound. I was waiting for them to tell me there was no heartbeat. I was prepared for the worst news because I’ve been through these exact same symptoms before. The resident finished listening to my heart and lungs and stepped out to get his attending and a nurse. They set up the portable ultrasound (attached to a laptop) and I laid there, waiting for the inevitable news. It didn’t come.

They saw the heartbeat.

I didn’t get to see it because of the equipment (ER versus obstetrics), so I was staring at the table as the three of them stared at the laptop monitor. After a moment, I looked up and there were three people looking at the image on the screen, smiling and nodding and saying, "There it is."

Relief.

The heart rate was in the 140s, which I gather is a little low, but not a big concern. The embryo is measuring 6 weeks 4 days and I am 7 weeks 1 day, but again, they said it wasn't a big concern. So, all good news there. I'm still bleeding a little and the doctor suggested it might be the placenta imbedding, so we'll see. They're calling it a “threatened miscarriage,” which seems… well… threatening, but I was assured that seeing the heartbeat gives me a 95% chance of carrying to term. Ninety-five percent sounds pretty good to me.

The resident (a really sweet guy, which has not been my general experience with military health care) was shocked that I wasn’t being seen sooner than ten weeks, given my age and history of miscarriage. He went out the nurse's station, pulled up the appointments and got me one for this Thursday. More good news. I'll be going to the naval hospital rather than my doctor's office, but right now I'm okay with that. And if I have a good experience with them on Thursday, I may be content to stay put rather than seek out a civilian doctor.

Now I'm just hoping the bleeding stops so I can relax. I’m probably fooling myself—“relax” is not likely to be a word in my vocabulary in the next eight months—but I’ll take it one day at a time. After all, they saw a heartbeat.

Maybe I’ll get to see it on Thursday.