Sunday, June 27, 2010

Turnings

What a wild week we've traveled, dear baby.

Last week, Friday, was our 16th anniversary. We had just learned of you the day before, and I was off with excitement to see you for the first time by ultrasound. The beta-HCG level of 17,000 from the day before, combined with being 7.5 weeks along according to my cycle, convinced me (and the doctor) that we should see you by now.

But something was wrong. I didn't get to go to my usual OB's office; the open appointment was in the general facility, where they do ultrasounds for all purposes. The technician was young, and highly insensitive to the delicate nerves and emotions of a pregnant mother. She took a long time and said nothing, hiding the screen from me. Finally, at the very end, she simply announced that she had found the yolk sac but could find no fetal pole.

Blood was pounding in my ears. This sounded so much like what happened exactly a year ago. I immediately believed that another miscarriage was on the way. The technician decided to consult with the radiologist, leaving me to sit and stew in my misery for over half-an-hour, alone in the dark, cold room. Then, it was home to deliver the news to Jeremy. So quickly I had embraced you, and so quickly I felt you snatched away. Yesterday I was good for nothing because I was dreaming of you; today for nothing because I couldn't stop thinking about what might have been.

My doctor's office called late that afternoon, and because of poor communication from the technician, I ended up having to tell them that there was no sign of a baby yet. The reaction of the nurse, who was then taken off guard, was not at all encouraging. She simply agreed that was not a promising sign and scheduled another ultrasound for the following week.

We had been thinking earlier about hiring a sitter and going to dinner for our anniversary, but now I didn't feel like it at all. We invited the Wunder family to join us for pizza at our house, instead. We didn't tell them what was happening, but just felt better somehow not being alone this night.

The weekend was not much better. Saturday, we had planned to clean the basement. I threw up in the middle of doing that Saturday morning, which added insult to it all - how could I be sick over nothing? Our progress was slow and unfocused.

Sunday morning, I felt just a bit better. We biked to church, and the exercise did me good. On the trip home, I just about had myself convinced that it would be okay - three is a good number for a family, too. We took the kids up to Grandma Di's and Grandpa Glen's for lunch, and Jeremy told them our story. I was sad all over again. James and Margaret were staying up there until Thursday night (going to Vacation Bible School with Grandma) so we came home with just John that night.

Monday morning, I was still feeling sick, which I had never done a year ago when I miscarried. I suddenly felt new resolve that I was not giving up on this pregnancy yet. Emotionally, I couldn't dare to dream and hope and plan. But, I could treat myself with care, in all the ways that I would for any pregnancy (lots of sleep, no caffeine or alcohol, etc.). I would not shut the door, yet. And, I chose two prayer warrior friends to tell by email, knowing they could spend the week, along with Glen and Di, praying for what I dared not voice out loud yet.

The week passed in a blur and yet dragged at the most incredibly slow pace. I felt sick much of the time. I slept a lot during the day. I was awake a lot at night. All of the normal ways I behave when newly pregnant, except the misery seemed so much greater with no future expectations for a baby.

Finally, Thursday arrived. I had steeled myself to expect nothing. This ultrasound was at my OB's office - a much more familiar place, with the technician (Kim) whom I know well and like well. That she was the one to deliver all the bad news last year, I tried to put out of my mind.

Kim didn't waste time. The first thing she said was, "There is the baby's heartbeat!" Tears poured from my eyes as I immediately opened my heart to the hopes I had been keeping locked in so tightly. Kim, bless her heart, said that seeing me so happy had just made HER day. I couldn't find words strong enough to return the sentiment to her. "Believe me, Kim, you've made up for my whole week, and more!"

I recall little else of the procedure - I just basked in the renewed and affirmed knowledge of you, dear baby. Apparently, one of us was just slow. Instead of being 8 weeks 2days (as by my cycle), you measured at 6 weeks 5 days. So, you were just too small last week to show up. But all looked fine, now!

Oh, what a new world it is, now!

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