Last year I came to the doctor’s office with my “products of conception” in a baggie and left empty handed.  This year I was cheerfully given a congratulatory goody bag with phamplets on cord blood banking, information on what to expect and a Fit Pregnancy magazine.  At the time it was exhilerating and now it’s just a little strange to think about.

On another note, upon reading my info packet written by this practice, I realized the answers to many of the questions I asked were right in there.  Yet as I asked question after question at my appointment, my OB patiently answered each one.  That was nice.

And perhaps fairly perplexing was when my OB was about to do my pap and said “You’re small, I’m going to get a baby speculum.”  And as I looked up at my husband, who at birth, was in the 99th percentile of large baby heads, all I could think was “this does not bode well”. 

It was kind of funny, really.  Yup, amusing at 2.5 months pregnant.  I’m sure at 9 months it will be a different story.

I had my first appointment with my OB yesterday…and another ultrasound.  I asked my husband to take video of the ultrasound, which he did once I told him that I did not mean of me GETTING the ultrasound (vaginally!) but of the screen with the baby on it.  I’m still not sure what he was thinking, hahaha.

Baby was going crazy in there with arms and legs moving around.  It was so adorable I couldn’t believe it. 

My next appointment isn’t until 4 weeks from now, so kind of a long wait.   I feel really good about everything though, and I’m past the point that I miscarried last time.  I’m even maybe going to tell everyone at work now.  We’ll see.

A picture of my little cutie:

And the best part, the video.  My OB is narrating most of it. 

I had another freakout, and to make a long story short, last night I had rechecked my thyroid levels and my TSH looked pretty freakishly low to me (0.126) although my T4 and FT4 looked okay.  After phone calls to my OB, RE and acupuncturist, it appears that I just need to keep an eye on them and recheck them every month or so.  But that was not before google started warning me about an increased risk of miscarriage. 

Am I only the only one that thinks my pregnancy needs one of those color coded terror alert charts?  I was probably on level orange this morning.  (Red being used only, of course, for cases of bleeding.)  Now I’m probably back down to a yellow or blue.  Unfortunately, in pregnancy after a miscarriage, the green level is never attained. 

And really, you’d think I’d learn.  I thought after my good ultrasound, I’d get to enjoy smooth sailing the rest of pregnancy.  I deserve for it to be easy from here on out!  Which is of course, ridiculous.  One of these days I will learn that it never ends.  There is always some problem, some worry, something cropping up to raise your terror alert.  Obviously I just have to deal with it. 

Reason #465 that I love my mother:  She listens to all this crap and knows what to say.  We are on the same wavelength and she IS my best girlfriend.  Case in point, conversation from this morning:

Mom: “I’m going to tell you a mental trick that I used when your dad was in remission and I’d start to worry between his appointments about the cancer coming back.  I would mentally take a box and I’d put all my worries in it.  I’d close it up and place it on the highest shelf of the closet and once it was there, I only allowed myself to take it down and open it every once in awhile.”
Me (later, revisiting the subject):  “So I need a little box like you had.”
Mom: ”Oh mine wasn’t little.  It had to be fairly big.”
Me:  “Can I make it pretty?  Does it have one of those ribbons around it?”
Mom:  “Yes, it does.”
Me:  “Is it round?”
Mom:  “Yes!  Like a hatbox.”

And when she calls tonight and I tell her about my pregnancy terror code alert, I know she will laugh.  I’m so grateful for her.  I truly lucked out on this mom business.  I just hope I can measure up and that one days my kids will think the same of me.

This post is belated by a day, due to the computer virus from hell, which my wonderful husband has fixed for me.

Yesterday was one year since I lost him.  My first child.  Sometimes I picture my children in my mind, my future children.  I see them smiling, laughing, playing in the ocean, skipping ahead of me on a forest trail.  And he is always there too, taller than the others, venturing out a bit further.  I can picture his smile.  But he will never really be here, except in my mind and my heart.

I placed flowers at his memorial.  The nandina bush has really grown and covered up much of it, but I think I will leave it be.  His place is nestled in amongst the plants and I think he would like that. 

I am so grateful for the life inside me right now.  But at the same time, I look at my angel statue and my heart whispers out, “I love you.  I miss you.  I wish you had had a chance.”

I cried in my car on the way there.  Because I was scared.  Because it was exactly one year from when I heard the words “I’m sorry, there is no heartbeat”.  Because I still wish with all my heart that I had my first baby in my arms.

My husband and I waited nervously in the room, waiting.  We made jokes about the dildo cam.  I read the phamplet on genetic disorders in the Ashkenazi Jewish population.

She came in, asked a few questions and soon, we had our answer.  A baby.  A heartbeat.  She turned the screen and I looked up to see the smile on my husband’s face.  She turned the screen towards me and I saw our baby.  So big, compared to the size Thomas was.  A little heart beating.  She turned on the doppler and we heard the heartbeat.  Without a doubt, the most amazing sound I’ve ever heard.

Baby is measuring perfectly.  1.5 cm CRL.  Heartrate 162. 

My RE looked slightly horrified when my husband told her that it was exactly a year from when we found out our first baby died.  And she said she was glad she could give us good news.  We discussed my miscarriage and the problems I had back then (baby’s development was slow, gestational sac too small) and she said this was a whole new ballgame. 

I feel good.  I know losses can and do happen, even after perfect ultrasounds.  But I feel like we’ve already crossed so many hurdles that we never did last time.  Everything looks perfect and you can’t ask for better than that.  I truly feel what I only dared to hope before…that I will hold this little one in my arms in May.

7 weeks, 4 days.  Baby is outlined in the 2nd picture with the yolk sac directly above.

Just a short update because I am feeling sick from dinner.  (Which, yay!  For some reason I’m feeling sick today and I normally don’t.  I *heart* symptoms).

No ultrasound today because of our current weather situation.  I was/am very disappointed at having it cancelled.  I rescheduled for next Wednesday.  And then realized that will be Sept. 17.  The same date I found out my baby died last year.  I thought of changing my appointment, but forced myself to be logical.  (For now.)  Whether or not it’s on a “bad” date doesn’t mean anything.  Either it turns out to be a sort of redeeming date (live baby) or it turns out to be the worst day of my life all over again (not alive baby).  There is nothing I can do about it but keep taking my progesterone and hoping and praying.

So now I have more waiting ahead of me and we’ll be hunkering down from this weather soon, so maybe at least the weekend will go by quickly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 …     ”I love you more than the birds love to fly
      More than the stars love to dance in the sky”

Less than a week to go until my ultrasound and I’m getting much more nervous.  I started down that road of imagining what it would be like to be told there was no heartbeat.  What it would be like to call or email everyone and tell them we had lost the baby.  What it would feel like miscarry again.   Obviously not a nice road to go down.

And so I find myself having this strange mix of wanting that ultrasound and being told all is fine but also dreading it at the same time.  Less than week to go and the thought has crossed my mind that each day that passes could be one of the last days that I have with this baby.  Loss is not a pretty thing.

Despite this I’m trying to stay positive.  It’s easier at home than at work, although I have no idea why.  Other than the fact that work is not the most pleasant place to be these days. 

I’m trying to keep busy.  Or as busy as I can with my fatigue and propensity towards naps.  I’ve started inventorying all the baby things that I got from my other SIL over a year ago.  Most of it is from 2004 so I need to check for recalls and see what I will and won’t use.

For the first week or so after I found out I was pregnant, I woke up each morning with a smile on my face and butterflies in my tummy because I would remember each morning anew, that I was pregnant.  A little less than a year ago I would wake up and not even feel like getting out of bed.  I was in misery each morning because I would wake up and remember that I wasn’t pregnant anymore.  Joy and sorrow.  How easily we can swing from one to the other. 

I don’t feel like it is asking too much for me to stay on the joy side, this time.  Stay with me, baby.

I’m setting the last post I wrote to private.  I got my venting out, which is what I needed to do and now I’m going to move on from it.

I spoke to SIL today, she and the baby are doing well.  Although I don’t like the situation, I am mulling over sending a gift.  This is my niece and I’m sure SIL would appreciate it.  I’m not really sure what to give, although I kind of see myself mailing something rather than going over there, so it can’t be too huge.  I guess I’ll have to see.

MIL and grandparents in law are coming over tomorrow.  MIL and grandma IL and I plan on going to look at baby things.  I’ve already gone out and bought some clothes because Walmart had this awesome clearance where everything summery was $1 or $2.  Then I picked up a couple things in Kohls too because they were so sweet they started making me almost cry just to look at them. 

I am 5 weeks pregnant.  Only 10 more days to go until my ultrasound.

Day 6 of being pregnant!  Or well, knowing that I’m pregnant anyway. 

I’ve spent some time thinking about loss and fear.  And about my response to them.  My thoughts are…if the worst happens, what do I lose from being optimistic?  Well, I guess I would feel badly that I got my hopes up only to lose the baby.  But what do I lose by being pessimistic?  I lose the only time I get to spend loving my child while he/she is here.  And to me, that seems infinitely worse.

I look back on the time I was pregnant with Thomas and I want to tell myself…no, don’t get those hcg levels done, wait a little longer for the ultrasound…give yourself more time with your baby where you are just loving him and thinking that it’s going to be okay. 

I think Melissa (thanks girl) has it spot on.  I can’t let fear steal my joy.  And it’s hard.  I knew it would be, but I didn’t realize how often the worry would start creeping back in.  All I can do is pray each time it happens, that I can remain joyful and thankful for what I have.  Yesterday I was not so good with that.  Today I am much better.

Courtesy of Sara Evans:

I could not ask for more than this time together
I could not ask for more than this time with you
And every prayer has been answered
Every dream I’ve had’s come true
Yeah, right here in this moment
Is right where I’m meant to be
Oh, here with you here with me
No, I could not ask for more
Than this love you gave me
Cause it’s all I’ve waited for
And I could not ask for more
No, I could not ask for more

I am right where I’m meant to be.  Right here at 4 weeks and 3 days, loving my baby.  It’s everything I’ve longed for, everything I’ve prayed for.  I could not ask for more.