The Sweetest Sound I Ever Heard

Smudgie has a heartbeat! And we heard it! At 6 weeks 1 day!

I am overjoyed right now and resisting every urge to undercut this with caution. This is such a happy day!

I had a terrible night's sleep last night, and so did Lawyer Guy. I woke up for the last time around 5:30 am and couldn't fall asleep, just lay there tossing and turning. I was convinced this would wind up a blighted ovum--something about my vague and intermittent symptoms put that idea in my mind.

Poor LG was also pretty shaken up this morning. He gets a "nervous stomach" during times of stress and had to run to the bathroom three times when we were at the clinic waiting to be seen by Dr. Wonderful. During his last tummy-trouble trip, she came into the exam room. I really wanted to wait for him to get back. I was so afraid of hearing bad news without him there to hold my hand. Dr. W. said she'd keep looking until he got back, but fortunately he showed up right before she started the ultrasound.

I couldn't look at the screen. I was too afraid I'd see nothing or an empty sac. I stared at LG sitting to my left as he stared at the screen. And then Dr. W. said, "We have a heartbeat" and I could finally look.

Such a little Smudge! With a heartbeat of 101 bpm! She flipped on the sound and we heard it, actually heard that tiny little thing's heart beating away, and I started to cry.

Before she left the room today, Dr. W. told us, "Don't worry. This is a good baby." I really did believe her right then and for the first time started to think that maybe this could work. When she left us alone, LG and I both hugged each other and started crying. We didn't need to say anything to know how the other was feeling.

We go back in a week, and if all is well and Smudgie has grown and the heartbeat has sped up, that will be our last visit with Dr. W. I know I will be anxious before that appointment, too. I know there are still many obstacles for this little one to overcome and much to be worried about. But right now, I am happier than I have ever been during a pregnancy.

Tell Me Your Symptoms; or, Who Knows?

Six weeks today. I've passed into clinical pregnancy territory. Next appointment with Dr. W. is tomorrow.

When I think about tomorrow and the fact that we'll KNOW (in capital letters) if there's nothing going on in there, I feel rather terrified. I am distracting myself as much as possible. I taught a pretty good class this morning on close reading and poetics. I've been reading Daniel Deronda for my orals list. I love the sound of running water, so my therapist and I worked out a relaxation visualization involving fountains, and I also downloaded the sounds of a waterfall to my iPod. Now, when I feel my thoughts starting to spiral out of control, I just tell myself "waterfall" and call to mind the sounds and the visualization. It seems to be working. I'm still waking up early with anxiety, but I'm no longer at risk of a panic attack.

I'm avoiding all those "Your Pregnancy Week by Week" websites I was obsessed with when pregnant with the m&m. I used to check them seven times a day, reading ahead to where I would be at the end of the week, reading back to where I'd already passed. I've looked at them once or twice since getting the BFP two weeks ago, but all I can think as I read some description of baby at 6 weeks or whatever is: "You don't know what's happening! That might not be happening at all! In fact, my baby probably stopped developing a long time ago!" It's been surprisingly easy to ignore them ever since.

I can't shake the feeling that I should have more symptoms now than I do. My boobs are the same as they've been the last two weeks: bigger than normal, but not pregnancy huge, a little tender in spots, but not excruciatingly painful. My pukies have pretty much gone away. I have a little nausea here and there, but the past three days have been puke-free. My cramping comes and goes. When it's here, I'm anxious. When it's gone, I'm anxious. I don't have any constipation (rather the reverse, actually). The only really consistent "symptoms" are hunger and the fact that I'm too exhausted to stay up past 9:30 each night.

I'd like to have more to bank on. I certainly felt more pregnant last time, even though it didn't work out. But I try to remind myself that my betas kept rising even when I felt no different at all. There's a chance this could work out. I don't know how much of chance, but I do at least admit there is one.

I'm going to eat another bowl of sausage ziti and then lie down on the couch and listen to the waterfall CD. I don't want to hope or fear anything for tomorrow; I just want to be here now in this day.

Visualizing Whirled Peas; or, Getting By

I haven't felt like blogging much lately. Not because I'm not feeling a lot or thinking a lot or reading what others write, and certainly not because there was more to say before I got pregnant again. But part of my efforts to quiet all the terribly anxious voices in my head involve distancing myself a bit from this space--and, unfortunately, from other people's pregnancies and struggles. So if you are one of my pregnant bloggy friends and I don't comment much in the next few--days? weeks? however long this thing lasts--please don't take it to heart. I'm just busy here doing whatever I can to keep from collapsing in a messy puddle on the floor and reading about other people's worries unfortunately dials mine up to eleven.

I'm about half-way through the 1ww between appointments. Man, is this difficult. I feel for women who don't get a single check-up between the positive pee stick and the end of first tri. Though to be fair, most of those women don't fall into the delightful categories that I and my fellow bloggers do.

I've come up with some relaxation techniques and some visualization exercises with my therapist, and I've been using them frequently the last few days, so I've surprisingly remained relatively calm. I get anxious when I imagine something bad happening to this pregnancy (understandably) and I also feel anxious when I imagine happy future outcomes. So pretty much every time I start to wonder about the upcoming appointment or to envision the future, I stop myself by picturing a mental image my therapist suggested and focus on breathing for a minute or so. It's working okay so far! I managed to hold off a panic attack this morning after I woke up and before I get out of bed.

In other developments, the pukies started for me on Sunday night in the car on the way to a Super Bowl party. Yesterday evening they were even worse, and I went to bed at about 9:30 pm because I was afraid that I'd vomit my dinner all over myself if I sat upright any longer. It's all very similar to last time--I throw up in the evenings, not the mornings, and it's worse when my stomach is empty--except with the m&m it started after I was 6 weeks along, so this is about a week earlier. Part of me takes it as a hopeful sign that this little smudge is busy making hormones and my body is responding to them. Then the other part of me remembers that I puked constantly up until the day we found out the m&m was gone, so I can't read too much into it. Then I start my visualization exercises again. Today I feel fine, though that could change at any moment. I'm trying not to read anything into that, either.

I hope so much that we have good news after our appointment on Friday. We've got a bunch of "milestones" from the last pregnancy coming up in the next few weeks: I started spotting right around 6 weeks, we had our first bad ultrasound at 6 weeks 5 days, and we found out at 7 weeks 4 days that the heart had stopped. I hope so much that I can pass them all with no fear and nothing but confidence and happiness for the little life that is growing inside me.

Mantras; or, Sunday Morning

- Healthy pregnancies begin this way, too (from Adele).

- There's nothing I can do to affect this outcome.

- Less than two weeks until we know for sure.

- The odds are in our favor.

- One of these days, something will work for us, and it might be today.

- I'm strong enough to handle whatever comes.

- One day at a time. Every normal day is a good day.

- Pregnant until proven otherwise.

Please stay strong, little smudge. You've done such a good job so far. Please keep growing strong and healthy for us.

Another Hurdle; or, One

Things are still looking okay. We spotted one gestational sac in the ute, measuring appropriately and right where it belongs. I had convinced myself that I would have and that I wanted twins, but I'll be quite thrilled to be lucky enough to bring home a healthy singleton, no question. No disappointment here, at all. Nothing but relief.

Dr. W said that everything looks good so far, but that it's still early and we just have to wait. Lawyer Guy insisted that I ask her about my boob size/pain concerns and cramping fears, and she responded that I should pay no attention to any of that because "it means nothing." The most important thing is to rest and relax and try to distract myself. There's nothing we can do right now (as I well know) but wait, so I might as well make the waiting as tolerable as possible.

There's also nothing I can do about my cough, though Lawyer Guy asked if it was okay for me to take some old prescription cough syrup with codeine he has lying around. (Dr. W and I looked at him like he had two heads. Um, narcotics are not really on the list of approved medications during pregnancy, sweetie). I might get a humidifier for our bedroom today, because the dry air hurts my throat with every breath.

Our next appointment is in a week. These upcoming two appointments (and these upcoming two weeks) are going to be especially hard, because starting around 6 weeks is where things began to go pear-shaped last time. But I can't go on torturing myself like this. It's not good for me or for Lawyer Guy or for the baby. I've got to do my best to relax and follow my good friend Egg's lead:

Zen zen zen zen zen.

A Short List; or, Facing Up or Wallowing In?

I'm 5 weeks today. My first ultrasound is tomorrow. Here are the things I'm afraid of:

- I'm afraid that the dull ache I've felt today primarily on the left side of my pubic bone down to the top of my thigh means that this pregnancy is ectopic.

- I'm afraid that my lack of hunger today isn't a result of my debilitating head-cold/chest-cough combo, but is a sign that Dr. W. will find nothing in my uterus tomorrow.

- I'm afraid this will turn out to be a twin pregnancy with one in the uterus and one in the tube and both will be lost. (Yes, I have imagined this scenario in great detail).

- I'm afraid of that moment when I'm lying pants- and pantyless on an exam table and I learn that my world has just ended, again.

- I'm afraid that my cold is going to kill this pregnancy (even I realize this is ridiculous).

- I'm worried the two cups of herbal tea (chamomile and peppermint) I drank today as my only cold meds will kill this baby (hey, I drank chamomile tea when pregnant with the m&m, too. Coincidence?)

- I'm afraid that we'll make it through tomorrow's test only to fail the next one or the next one or the next one after that.

- I'm afraid that I will lose this baby.

- I'm afraid that I will lose every baby I manage to conceive.

- I'm afraid I will have nothing left inside of me to carry on if this doesn't work.

- I'm afraid of becoming Broken Miscarriage Girl again when I worked so hard for so long to be better than that.

The pregnancy chapter in Melissa Ford's book (Navigating the Land of IF, as though you didn't already know that) suggested writing down all your fears to try to make them more manageable. I know I should only fear one thing at a time (i.e., worry about tomorrow's scan, not next week's and certainly not my eternal future of childbearing) but they're all so wrapped up in each other. A bad result tomorrow will knock down all the dominoes, bringing me right to the last one.

And I know that statistics favor this pregnancy working out fine. But statistics favored healthy 28-year-old me getting pregnant in four months. Statistics favored my first pregnancy working out okay, too. I hate statistics. The statistics in my head go more like: 90% chance of tomorrow's ultrasound ending in catastrophic disappointment; 10% chance of tomorrow's ultrasound being okay; too soon to call on the whole taking-home-a-baby thing. Yeah, there's probably a reason I study literature and not numbers.

I feel so wretchedly sick and I can't take anything for it, so I canceled class today and stayed home and slept. And did some orals reading, but mostly obsessed over dull throb of my pubic bone. Left side. Left side. Left side. Left side. Finally! Right side. Damn. Back to Left side. Do not google "ectopic pregnancy after doubling betas." Do not google at all (and I didn't google it, if you can believe me).

I stirred myself to head to the coffee shop down the block to meet and interview a prospective student of my alma mater for our alumnai admissions team. And the whole time I'm asking this high school senior about her academic ambitions and the books she's read lately and what she wants out of her Ivy League Experience, I'm thinking, "Don't be dead, little bugger, please don't be dead. Please don't be ectopic. Stay strong, little bugger."

When I think about having a baby in October, my heart clenches and I want to slap myself across the wrist. Don't imagine stuff like that! You know what happens when you start imagining! When I think about not having a baby in October I feel...fine. I don't mean when I think about having another miscarriage. That makes me want to slit my wrists. But just not having a baby at some indeterminate point in the future? Yeah, I know how to deal with that. That's familiar. That's almost comfortable.

One day at a time. Every day I'm still pregnant is a good day. Maybe eventually I'll believe it.

One Day At a Time; or, Hanging In There

Things have been mostly okay in the Sloper household the past few days, other than the wicked head cold I'm fighting and the snoring it has unfortunately produced. The worry is always there, of course, but it's been like a little pebble wiggling around in my shoe rather than a massive cinder block crushing my chest. My boobs appear to deflate and grow less sore: pebble of worry. I have a sleepgasm (seriously, what is up with those things?) and wake to intense, if momentary, cramping: pebble of worry. I think about the shower that my best friend said she and her mom will throw for me or decorating the nursery or having a baby nine months from now: pebble of worry.

But at least I am letting myself imagine those things, just a little, even if I always immediately qualify them in my mind with a disclaimer: "WARNING! Idle Daydreams to not constitute a guarantee of success. Fantasize at your own risk."

I don't think I fully realized how traumatic losing the m&m was until this week. I knew that I grieved very hard for that pregnancy-- the months of sobbing in parking lots and at family gatherings and on my couch (not to mention the over-eating) were testament to that. But I thought that over the past, let's say, nine months I'd processed and accepted and put it behind me and moved on.

Ha! Ha?

I said to Lawyer Guy this morning that I feel like we both have PTSD. It reminds me of the months following 9/11, when we would jump at every loud noise and when something as simple as getting on the subway or a city bus felt fraught with danger (I stood several feet away from every subway trash can out of worry that they might contain an IRA-style bomb). LG works downtown only about ten blocks from the Trade Center, so he saw/heard/felt some incredibly disturbing things that day, including the deafening impact of the second plane hitting. And it took him *years* to not automatically panic at certain similar sounds.

Despite the obvious differences in scale and significance and national importance, this feels very similar. I feel like I'm reliving everything terrible that happened 14 months ago, and I'm a little paralyzed by it all.

But I'm trying to get better.

I mentioned my best friend (Doctor Lady, whom I've written about here before). I spoke to her on Sunday night and told her what is going on. She's not only a great listener and extremely sympathetic, she also has a detached, rational response to things and medical expertise that make her really great to talk to in situations like this. She never blows smoke, but she can be reassuring and factual at the same time, and she doesn't get whipped into hysteria even while she feels for me. So I'm really glad I told her.

We have not told any of our parents (or anyone else outside the ALI on-line community, for that matter), for several reasons. For me, the most important is that I desperately want to be happy and excited when I tell my parents this news. I didn't get that last time. I told my mom and dad about the m&m after our first ultrasound with no heartbeat, when things were looking worrisome and my doctor gave us a 50-50 shot. There was a lot of crying and comforting over the phone that night. That's so far from how I dreamed of the experience of telling my parents they're going to be grandparents, and I want the experience of my dreams. I want something to be normal in all this. If that means I have to wait until I'm 12+ weeks to tell them, then that's what it means.

The other issue--and this pertains more to my mother-in-law, despite the fact that I adore her--is that I am not ready to let anyone else into this space Lawyer Guy and I are sharing. I'm not capable of dealing with someone else's worry or excitement or expectations other than ours. I'm trying to take each day as it comes and deal calmly with all my fears. My mother-in-law is wonderful, but she can't keep her mouth shut. I'm partially worried she'd tell people about this before we were ready, but I'm mostly certain that she would call to check in on me and tell me I need to be calm and want to talk to me about this a lot and I JUST CAN'T HANDLE IT RIGHT NOW.

This is a source of some tension between Lawyer Guy and me. He thinks of his mother as his best friend (other than me) and he's been struggling, too, with worry and fear. He really, really wants to tell his mom. I really, really don't want him to. He thinks I'm being selfish, and he's probably right, but I feel like this is something I need to stick to my guns on. I'm just not ready.

This turned into a much longer post than I intended. Thank you so much for reading along with me and e-mailing me or tweeting at me with your encouragement over the last few days. It truly sustains me right now. And to my friends who are struggling and perhaps hurt by my inability to feel the joy that must seem so appropriate to this situation: I am sorry. I need to be honest in this space, always, but I know how hard it is to read things like this when you would give anything to see two lines yourself. I completely understand if people want to stop following along or take a break from commenting, and I won't be hurt.