Last week, I was completely unprepared for what we saw on the ultrasound.
It was an actual baby. Measuring perfectly for 6 weeks. With a heartbeat of 123. The tech even caught the sac via the abdominal ultrasound before she used the dildocam. I try not to take the Lord’s name in vain, but in the exam room, I did… three times.
The heartbeat was probably the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, even more beautiful than the one I saw at 8 weeks with my first pregnancy. It sounds cheesy, I know, but this time around, it was delicate, lovely and all the more magical because of our long struggle.
The radiologist chatted with me a little while he interpreted the results. “Are you a medical professional?” he asked. “You sound very knowledgeable.”
No, I’ve just been doing this for a really f*cking long time.
The RE said this pregnancy could not look any better, but that with my history I simply cannot bond with it. I’m still at a high risk for miscarriage and this could be the pregnancy that I’ll have to terminate for Fragile X. I should take my prenatals and avoid eating all those things you’re not supposed to eat, but otherwise pretend I’m not pregnant. And she instructed me to stop humanizing the baby by calling it Schrodinger. That is kind of funny to me… I have to wonder if she knew the reference.
“Don’t tell people about your pregnancy,” she advised, “because talking is a huge emotional drain. And no one needs to know that you might have to terminate.” It was interesting to hear her say that, because I had come to that same conclusion last summer, which is what led me to blogging.
The nurses made me mad this time. They were quick to congratulate me after my second beta, excitedly saying, “It’s a good day!” Then when my third beta didn’t rise much, they were SURE the baby had died and said to expect bleeding in the next two days. (There is still no explanation for the slow rise.) I wish they would’ve just given me the facts without editorializing, because it’s hard to stay even-keeled when a nurse is super excited or crying in sympathy, whichever the case may be.
The next step is the 8 week ultrasound, which will be Mon the 24th. This will be a pretty important test; they want to see 2 weeks’ worth of growth. I go back and forth on pregnancy symptoms. My bb’s and nipples hurt like a SOAB, I chomp on prunes for constipation, I take two hour naps in the middle of the day, and I cry like a baby at The Bachelor even though I think he’s a dumb*ss homophobe and Sharleen was smart to leave. Then suddenly I feel no symptoms and I’m 100% convinced I’ve lost the baby.
So, we wait. ❤