As I got to know my baby's personality, I could see just how different my sons were. I mean they are completely opposite in every way. I think it might be more that my baby is more like a typical baby than my first.
Adam (son #1)
tiny, little peanut
wouldn't eat as a baby
never put anything in his mouth
binky
no teething issues
hates a mess
very serious
slept through the night early
never cried
Ben (baby)
enormous
eats everything
puts everything in his mouth
thumb-sucker
terrible time teething
loves a mess
laughs at anything
didn't sleep through night for 9 months
cried all the time at the beginning
I am sure there are more examples. I find myself looking at the baby thinking how different my 2 year old was at that same age. I am really kind of relieved. I thought that nothing would be new an exciting with the new baby because I had been through it before with my first. But nothing could be further from the truth. Everyday is a new adventure with these two. I am loving every second.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Thursday, June 24, 2010
How can I not worry...
Before we left the hospital, the pediatrician came in to examine the baby. He looked good and was healthy. Then she turned him around and looked at his back. I noticed her notice something. She took a closer look and then I started to get concerned. She finally told me what she was looking at. There was small hole right at the start of his little bummy crack. She told me it was called a sacral dimple and that I shouldn't worry at this point. How could I not worry?
I looked it up online and was really nervous. It could be a sign of spina bifida. It could mean that the neural tube or spine had not completely finished forming. It could lead to problems in the future, including bladder problems, mobility problems, and other things that I didn't want to think about.
At his first appointment, the doctor again looked at the dimple and couldn't see the bottom of it to see if it was open or completely closed. She told me to have an ultrasound done of his back so we would know if there were issues or not.
A couple of weeks later, my husband and I took our new little boy to Women and Children's Hospital. I had never been to this hospital and was amazed at how child friendly the atmosphere was. There were murals on the walls, child centers with books and play things. It was wonderful. And then I saw a child who had lost her hair and then realized that the children who come to this hospital are really sick. I was terrified that something would be wrong with my son and that I would become a regular at this facility.
We waited for a while before they took us back to a tiny, dark room. We undressed the baby down to his diaper and laid him on his belly. He was cooperating better than I expected. The ultrasound technician came in and did the "procedure". It took a couple of minutes and she left the room. About 10 minutes later, she came back and said that the doctor had looked at the results and found that the hole was closed and there shouldn't be any problems. I was relieved. But I couldn't stop thinking about that little girl. I still think of her and am grateful that we have such a state of the art hospital right in the area to help children like her.
I looked it up online and was really nervous. It could be a sign of spina bifida. It could mean that the neural tube or spine had not completely finished forming. It could lead to problems in the future, including bladder problems, mobility problems, and other things that I didn't want to think about.
At his first appointment, the doctor again looked at the dimple and couldn't see the bottom of it to see if it was open or completely closed. She told me to have an ultrasound done of his back so we would know if there were issues or not.
A couple of weeks later, my husband and I took our new little boy to Women and Children's Hospital. I had never been to this hospital and was amazed at how child friendly the atmosphere was. There were murals on the walls, child centers with books and play things. It was wonderful. And then I saw a child who had lost her hair and then realized that the children who come to this hospital are really sick. I was terrified that something would be wrong with my son and that I would become a regular at this facility.
We waited for a while before they took us back to a tiny, dark room. We undressed the baby down to his diaper and laid him on his belly. He was cooperating better than I expected. The ultrasound technician came in and did the "procedure". It took a couple of minutes and she left the room. About 10 minutes later, she came back and said that the doctor had looked at the results and found that the hole was closed and there shouldn't be any problems. I was relieved. But I couldn't stop thinking about that little girl. I still think of her and am grateful that we have such a state of the art hospital right in the area to help children like her.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Recovery...
Everything about this baby and my experience was completely opposite of my experience with my 2 year old. With my 2 year old, I loved being pregnant. The labor went quickly and the recovery was terrible and painful. With this one, I hated being pregnant. I was uncomfortable very early on and it continued through the very end. The labor went quickly (just about 6 hours) but it was much more difficult. I could only hope that the recovery followed the same pattern of opposites and I would get off easy with this one. Well, I was right.
From the moment my epidural wore off, I was able to get up and move around with little pain. I took a shower and they gave me pain medication, though I didn't need it. That was the last time I took anything for pain, not even aspirin.
My only problem now was this stupid rash that I had over my entire body, except for my face and neck. It was in behind my knees, under my arms, in between my toes. And now it was raging more than ever. Maybe I was so focused on the itchiness that I couldn't even feel the pain. I was told that it would go away within 2 weeks and that wasn't fast enough.
I remember being in the hospital bed, with visitors in the room, just scratching and scratching - trying to be subtle because it was really not the most attractive thing to be doing. My head was telling me not to scratch. But it was like my fingers had a mind of their own and I literally had no control. I felt like a drug addict or what I imagine a drug addict would feel like. The compulsion was so intense that I had no choice.
The problem was that it felt amazing while I was scratching and for maybe 5 minutes after I was able to get my fingers to stop. But then it would flare back up and I would be back in the same boat. I had to get a shot of something or other (I probably should know this) and the nurse couldn't find any useable skin. She said she had never seen it so bad. That made me feel much better. NOT!
It felt like it was the worst possible thing I could go through at the time. Looking back, if that was the worst thing I had to deal with while recovering from childbirth, I guess that's not so bad.
From the moment my epidural wore off, I was able to get up and move around with little pain. I took a shower and they gave me pain medication, though I didn't need it. That was the last time I took anything for pain, not even aspirin.
My only problem now was this stupid rash that I had over my entire body, except for my face and neck. It was in behind my knees, under my arms, in between my toes. And now it was raging more than ever. Maybe I was so focused on the itchiness that I couldn't even feel the pain. I was told that it would go away within 2 weeks and that wasn't fast enough.
I remember being in the hospital bed, with visitors in the room, just scratching and scratching - trying to be subtle because it was really not the most attractive thing to be doing. My head was telling me not to scratch. But it was like my fingers had a mind of their own and I literally had no control. I felt like a drug addict or what I imagine a drug addict would feel like. The compulsion was so intense that I had no choice.
The problem was that it felt amazing while I was scratching and for maybe 5 minutes after I was able to get my fingers to stop. But then it would flare back up and I would be back in the same boat. I had to get a shot of something or other (I probably should know this) and the nurse couldn't find any useable skin. She said she had never seen it so bad. That made me feel much better. NOT!
It felt like it was the worst possible thing I could go through at the time. Looking back, if that was the worst thing I had to deal with while recovering from childbirth, I guess that's not so bad.
I can't do this...
From what I remembered, the pushing was the hardest part. I wasn't really looking forward to it but thought maybe it would be easier now that I knew what I was doing. I was wrong. It wasn't easier. It was just as hard. I started pushing and still didn't know if I was doing it right. It is the strangest feeling, having your legs numb and trying to push a baby out. I kept at it but didn't feel like I was making any progress.
And my doctor didn't help much. She wasn't the cheerleader type. It was more like boot camp. At one point, I raised my rear end because I felt like it would give me some leverage to push. I felt like it was helping. Well, she said, "Get your G-d d**m *** back on the table!" Whoa. Ok. I was trying too hard to have the baby to even come up with a response. I only pushed for about 45 minutes but it felt like forever. I said multiple times that I couldn't do it. I truly felt like it couldn't be done. But eventually he was out.
I didn't hear anything at first. The baby didn't cry and the doctor didn't say anything. They were working on him for a minute and he finally cried. My husband cut the cord and they whisked him away. He was crying steadily now and my husband told me that the cord had been around his neck. He was fine though, very healthy.
I was anxious to hear how much he weighed because he had streched my body to the limit. I was expecting 7-1/2 pounds so I was shocked when they said 8lbs 6oz. What!!! He was almost a full 2 pounds bigger than my first. It was funny how tiny he looked though. When I finally got to hold him, I was in awe. He was perfect. He had the most wonderful skin and was just beautiful. I was able to be with him for a couple of hours before they took him up the nursery. Of course he was being passed around to my husband and the grandparents so I didn't get to keep him to myself but I knew they were also very excited to get to know him too.
And my doctor didn't help much. She wasn't the cheerleader type. It was more like boot camp. At one point, I raised my rear end because I felt like it would give me some leverage to push. I felt like it was helping. Well, she said, "Get your G-d d**m *** back on the table!" Whoa. Ok. I was trying too hard to have the baby to even come up with a response. I only pushed for about 45 minutes but it felt like forever. I said multiple times that I couldn't do it. I truly felt like it couldn't be done. But eventually he was out.
I didn't hear anything at first. The baby didn't cry and the doctor didn't say anything. They were working on him for a minute and he finally cried. My husband cut the cord and they whisked him away. He was crying steadily now and my husband told me that the cord had been around his neck. He was fine though, very healthy.
I was anxious to hear how much he weighed because he had streched my body to the limit. I was expecting 7-1/2 pounds so I was shocked when they said 8lbs 6oz. What!!! He was almost a full 2 pounds bigger than my first. It was funny how tiny he looked though. When I finally got to hold him, I was in awe. He was perfect. He had the most wonderful skin and was just beautiful. I was able to be with him for a couple of hours before they took him up the nursery. Of course he was being passed around to my husband and the grandparents so I didn't get to keep him to myself but I knew they were also very excited to get to know him too.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Birth Day 9/8/09
With my first baby, I was very emotional the night before I was induced. I remember laying in bed, crying softly - thinking about how my life was going to change drastically in the next hours. I was anxious, nervous, excited, scared, worried, all of the above. This time around, I was dealing with another set of emotions. I am in love with my first born. I couldn't imagine bringing someone else into our perfect little family unit. I was full og guilt for disrupting his life, especially because he didn't really understand what was going to happen. I was sad because I would have to be away from him for 2 nights. I had not been away from him since he was born. On the other hand, I was so uncomfortable and this rash that I had developed was kicking my butt. I just wanted him out. The doctors had estimated that he was about 7 and 1/2 pounds but he felt more like 50 pounds on my small frame.
When the wee hours of dawn finally arrived, I hitched a ride to the hospital with my dad. My husband was going to bring our 2 year old to his parents for the day and would meet us at the hospital. The initial hospital experience was identical to my first time around. I checked in, had some blood taken, had my IVs hooked up. I was feeling no pain. My husband and mother arrived and I just settled into the hospital bed for the process to start.
At one point, my bladder felt full and I asked to go to the bathroom. I had to get all of my IV lines gathered up and wheeled my IV holder into the bathroom with me. I went but not a lot. I got back into bed and a short while later I felt like I had to go again. I trekked back into the bathroom and went a little more. Got back into bed. Not 5 minutes later, I felt myself leaking. I told the nurse that I was either wetting the bed (not outside the realm of possibility) or my water had broken. She checked and sure enough, my bag of waters had ruptured. I felt almost proud. They hadn't even started the pitocin and the doctor was scheduled to come break my water in an hour or so. But I had done it my own.
At this point, it was a continuous leaking of fluid so I stayed in bed. I remembered from last time that the contractions started not too long after my water was broken. So I waited for that happen. I had the mindset that I was not going to get an epidural this time. I had one with my first and I was pushing within an hour. I figured if labor was going to be that quick, I would be able to handle the pain, especially because I knew the end was in sight.
My contractions started hard and fast. They were really intense and were lasting about a minute. I had about 4 minutes in between so I had a little break. Soon they were even more painful - probably about a 10 on a scale of 1-10. And now they were about a minute apart, still a minute long. I breathed in and out. I focused on an object. Nothing was working. I cannot even believe how much pain I was in. I was shaking and trying to will myself to have an out of body experience so I could escape. But I couldn't get out of my own body and I felt hopeless. At this point I wasn't getting any kind of break in between contractions. They were almost continuous. I could feel them peak and then taper off like a wave but then they would peak again almost immediately.
By now I am crying. My husband and parents were just staring at my because my reaction was so different from the first time. Then I had been stoic, handling the pain. Now I was a mess. I was suffering in silence as tears rolled down my face. There was no screaming like you see on TV. I somehow indicated to my mother that I needed the epidural NOW. She was able to relay my message to the nurse because I couldn't physically speak at the time.
Had I been in my right mind, I would have remembered that they need to get a bag of fluids into my IV before they can give the epidural. This process can take 15-20 minutes which meant that I was going to have 15-20 more contractions before I was able to get some relief.
After an excrutiating quarter of an hour, my IV had been administered. And of course, now the anesthesiologist was no where to be found. Actually he was in with a C section patient which was also very important but I was running out of patience. Another 1 /2 hour passed before the anesthesiologist came in and I was never so happy to see someone that would be sticking a foot long needle in my back. Well, I should have known that it wasn't going to be that easy. He had an intern tagging along that was learning how to give an epidural. That was fine, I had no problem with someone learning. But he had to explain everything in detail to her. Again, no problem with the learning process but I just wanted my damn pain meds. He finally got me into position and had put the iodine on my back. I was ready but I just kept having contractions. Involuntary shaking had taken over my body about 3 separate times as he was preparing to insert the needle. He waited each time. After that 3rd time, he said he wasn't waiting anymore and I that I had to make sure that I stayed still or we would have a proble. Well, excuse me. Somehow I made it through and he was able to do his thing without incident. I was told that it would take another 15 minutes before I would be feeling relief. So 15 minutes came and went and I was still feeling the contractions. The edge was taken off but they were still so painful.
When the doctor came in, she realized that I was still having to breathe through the contractions, even after the epidural. She decided to check me and said, "Well, it is time to push." I was so frustrated! Yet again I had the epidural and I could have made it without if I could just have waited 15 more minutes. It didn't even really give me much relief. But I was glad to get the show on the road. I was hoping that very soon I would have a new little baby boy in my arms.
When the wee hours of dawn finally arrived, I hitched a ride to the hospital with my dad. My husband was going to bring our 2 year old to his parents for the day and would meet us at the hospital. The initial hospital experience was identical to my first time around. I checked in, had some blood taken, had my IVs hooked up. I was feeling no pain. My husband and mother arrived and I just settled into the hospital bed for the process to start.
At one point, my bladder felt full and I asked to go to the bathroom. I had to get all of my IV lines gathered up and wheeled my IV holder into the bathroom with me. I went but not a lot. I got back into bed and a short while later I felt like I had to go again. I trekked back into the bathroom and went a little more. Got back into bed. Not 5 minutes later, I felt myself leaking. I told the nurse that I was either wetting the bed (not outside the realm of possibility) or my water had broken. She checked and sure enough, my bag of waters had ruptured. I felt almost proud. They hadn't even started the pitocin and the doctor was scheduled to come break my water in an hour or so. But I had done it my own.
At this point, it was a continuous leaking of fluid so I stayed in bed. I remembered from last time that the contractions started not too long after my water was broken. So I waited for that happen. I had the mindset that I was not going to get an epidural this time. I had one with my first and I was pushing within an hour. I figured if labor was going to be that quick, I would be able to handle the pain, especially because I knew the end was in sight.
My contractions started hard and fast. They were really intense and were lasting about a minute. I had about 4 minutes in between so I had a little break. Soon they were even more painful - probably about a 10 on a scale of 1-10. And now they were about a minute apart, still a minute long. I breathed in and out. I focused on an object. Nothing was working. I cannot even believe how much pain I was in. I was shaking and trying to will myself to have an out of body experience so I could escape. But I couldn't get out of my own body and I felt hopeless. At this point I wasn't getting any kind of break in between contractions. They were almost continuous. I could feel them peak and then taper off like a wave but then they would peak again almost immediately.
By now I am crying. My husband and parents were just staring at my because my reaction was so different from the first time. Then I had been stoic, handling the pain. Now I was a mess. I was suffering in silence as tears rolled down my face. There was no screaming like you see on TV. I somehow indicated to my mother that I needed the epidural NOW. She was able to relay my message to the nurse because I couldn't physically speak at the time.
Had I been in my right mind, I would have remembered that they need to get a bag of fluids into my IV before they can give the epidural. This process can take 15-20 minutes which meant that I was going to have 15-20 more contractions before I was able to get some relief.
After an excrutiating quarter of an hour, my IV had been administered. And of course, now the anesthesiologist was no where to be found. Actually he was in with a C section patient which was also very important but I was running out of patience. Another 1 /2 hour passed before the anesthesiologist came in and I was never so happy to see someone that would be sticking a foot long needle in my back. Well, I should have known that it wasn't going to be that easy. He had an intern tagging along that was learning how to give an epidural. That was fine, I had no problem with someone learning. But he had to explain everything in detail to her. Again, no problem with the learning process but I just wanted my damn pain meds. He finally got me into position and had put the iodine on my back. I was ready but I just kept having contractions. Involuntary shaking had taken over my body about 3 separate times as he was preparing to insert the needle. He waited each time. After that 3rd time, he said he wasn't waiting anymore and I that I had to make sure that I stayed still or we would have a proble. Well, excuse me. Somehow I made it through and he was able to do his thing without incident. I was told that it would take another 15 minutes before I would be feeling relief. So 15 minutes came and went and I was still feeling the contractions. The edge was taken off but they were still so painful.
When the doctor came in, she realized that I was still having to breathe through the contractions, even after the epidural. She decided to check me and said, "Well, it is time to push." I was so frustrated! Yet again I had the epidural and I could have made it without if I could just have waited 15 more minutes. It didn't even really give me much relief. But I was glad to get the show on the road. I was hoping that very soon I would have a new little baby boy in my arms.
Wow! It's been a long time...
Well it has been forever since I have posted anything. I guess that is what having two kids does to you. So my oldest is now 2 years, 8 months old and my baby is 9 months old. Time flies!
Remembering back about 10 months ago, my life was so very different. I was pregnant and ready to pop. With my first pregnancy, I had gestational diabetes and had to be extremely careful about what I ate. This pregnancy I was lucky enough to escape the diabetes but I was enormous. I am not a very big person to begin with and having a very large baby was no picnic. At 6 months pregnant, I was as big as I was full term with my first.
Because the baby was measuring large, the doctors wanted to induce me a week early. They thought that I probably did have diabetes but had (barely) passed my 3 hour sugar test so I wasn't "treating" it like I had with my first. I was scheduled to go in on Tuesday 9/8/09. On the Thursday before, I broke out in a rash on the back of my thighs. It wasn't a big deal and I assumed it was because of the hormones. By that evening, the rash had become itchy. Very itchy. By the next morning, it had spread to pretty much the entire lower half of my body. I scratched to relieve the itch but I could tell it was getting worse. By the next day, I had it all over my stomach in a spider web like pattern. I was so itchy that I would wake up from sound sleep just scratching. My skin was raw from all of the scratching, yet I couldn't help myself. The rash had grown together so it was like I had a second, raised, outer layer of skin. Nothing would take the itch away.
I researched online because all online information is so very accurate, especially medical information (NOT!). But that is what I did. I self-diagnosed a PUPPPs rash. Everything that I read said that it goes away soon after the birth. I was praying that was true because I couldn't take it anymore. I was huge and uncomfortable and now I had to deal with this. AHHHH!!!! I just needed this baby out!
Remembering back about 10 months ago, my life was so very different. I was pregnant and ready to pop. With my first pregnancy, I had gestational diabetes and had to be extremely careful about what I ate. This pregnancy I was lucky enough to escape the diabetes but I was enormous. I am not a very big person to begin with and having a very large baby was no picnic. At 6 months pregnant, I was as big as I was full term with my first.
Because the baby was measuring large, the doctors wanted to induce me a week early. They thought that I probably did have diabetes but had (barely) passed my 3 hour sugar test so I wasn't "treating" it like I had with my first. I was scheduled to go in on Tuesday 9/8/09. On the Thursday before, I broke out in a rash on the back of my thighs. It wasn't a big deal and I assumed it was because of the hormones. By that evening, the rash had become itchy. Very itchy. By the next morning, it had spread to pretty much the entire lower half of my body. I scratched to relieve the itch but I could tell it was getting worse. By the next day, I had it all over my stomach in a spider web like pattern. I was so itchy that I would wake up from sound sleep just scratching. My skin was raw from all of the scratching, yet I couldn't help myself. The rash had grown together so it was like I had a second, raised, outer layer of skin. Nothing would take the itch away.
I researched online because all online information is so very accurate, especially medical information (NOT!). But that is what I did. I self-diagnosed a PUPPPs rash. Everything that I read said that it goes away soon after the birth. I was praying that was true because I couldn't take it anymore. I was huge and uncomfortable and now I had to deal with this. AHHHH!!!! I just needed this baby out!
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Follow-Up Appointment...
The day of my appointment had finally arrived. My husband, son and I arrived at the office. A very busy office I might add. I had asked for directions when I had made the appointment because they had 2 locations. I had to sign in at the front desk and take a seat. About a 1/2 hour later, 15 minutes past my appointment time, they called me to the desk and informed me that my appointment was at the other location. I assured them that it was not because I had specifically made sure that it was here. They didn't have availability for me at that office. I told them there was no way I was leaving that office without my sonogram. Were they trying to give me an ulcer? They asked me wait a minute and then let me know that someone would be able to see me but I might have to wait a while. I was prepared to set up a sleeping bag and spend the night if I had to. I wasn't leaving.
About an hour and one hungry toddler later, I was called into the office. The three of us trekked in with the nurse and I undressed from the waist down, ready to hear my the fate of the baby I hadn't even known I wanted.
The way the table was set up didn't allow me to see the screen. These sonograms are done for high risk pregnancies so I didn't know if that was done intentionally or not. But it was maddening. My husband stood over her shoulder as she did the sonogram and neither of them would look at me. I was afraid to say anything so I waited, searching their faces for some sign of what they were seeing. After an eternity my husband looked at me and gave me a thumbs up. There was a heartbeat. Then he got this shocked look on his face and said that there were 2 heartbeats. Luckily he was only kidding. Turns out the heartbeat was nice and strong and I was measuring about 7 weeks at that time. My cycle had been off and I hadn't really been as far along as I thought initially.
Relief filled my body and now I could finally let myself be happy about the new arrival.
About an hour and one hungry toddler later, I was called into the office. The three of us trekked in with the nurse and I undressed from the waist down, ready to hear my the fate of the baby I hadn't even known I wanted.
The way the table was set up didn't allow me to see the screen. These sonograms are done for high risk pregnancies so I didn't know if that was done intentionally or not. But it was maddening. My husband stood over her shoulder as she did the sonogram and neither of them would look at me. I was afraid to say anything so I waited, searching their faces for some sign of what they were seeing. After an eternity my husband looked at me and gave me a thumbs up. There was a heartbeat. Then he got this shocked look on his face and said that there were 2 heartbeats. Luckily he was only kidding. Turns out the heartbeat was nice and strong and I was measuring about 7 weeks at that time. My cycle had been off and I hadn't really been as far along as I thought initially.
Relief filled my body and now I could finally let myself be happy about the new arrival.
First doctor's appointment...
I still wasn't feeling much better about finding out I was pregnant. I had started to sink in and I was starting to accept it but I felt like I still had a long way to go. I called the doctor to make an appointment. Maybe I was still wrong. There are false positive tests, right?
From my calculation I was about 8 weeks along when I went to the doctor. They agreed. They did a urine test and it came out positive. I guess I wasn't too surprised. Then they decided to do a sonogram. Nothing special, just one of the antequated machines that was in the office. I watched the screen as the familiar fuzzy screen came up. The doctor immediately located the yolk sac. Then I waited and watched. She searched around for what seemed like an eternity. And then there was nothing. No heartbeat. I think my heart may have stopped as well. She told me that my uterus didn't really feel like I was 8 weeks and that the measurements were indicating that I was just over 5 weeks. Still too early to see a heartbeat. She asked me to make an appointment with another office in a couple of weeks just to make sure everything was ok. She said she wasn't concerned.
I walked out of the office devastated. I didn't even think I wanted this pregnancy and now that I was faced with not having a living being in my womb I was unprepared for the sadness and sense of loss that I felt. And there was nothing I could do but wait. Hard to not think about something like that. It consumed my free thoughts all the time, at work, at home, in bed when I was trying to fall asleep. I didn't show my emotion to my husband because I didn't want him to worry about me. I just kept it all inside.
My mother and I went to see Marley & Me at the movie theater after that appointment. I thought it would be good to get out of the house. I had read the book and knew it would be a tearjerker but I just wanted to get my mind off of the situation. Bad choice of movie for that. In one scene, the character played by Jennifer Aniston found out she was pregnant. They were so happy. Then at 10 weeks they had a sonogram and there was no heartbeat. She had lost the baby. It was almost unbearable to sit there. I think I went through a whole box of tissues in that dark theater, hoping that wouldn't be me in a couple of weeks.
My husband and mother were very reassuring but I knew that if the calculations were indicating that I was 8 weeks and I was measuring 3 weeks behind, the fetus could have just stopped growing and died at 5 weeks and I was still carrying the remains of the pregnancy. Why couldn't a time machine just take me into the future so I could just know for sure? But I waited.
From my calculation I was about 8 weeks along when I went to the doctor. They agreed. They did a urine test and it came out positive. I guess I wasn't too surprised. Then they decided to do a sonogram. Nothing special, just one of the antequated machines that was in the office. I watched the screen as the familiar fuzzy screen came up. The doctor immediately located the yolk sac. Then I waited and watched. She searched around for what seemed like an eternity. And then there was nothing. No heartbeat. I think my heart may have stopped as well. She told me that my uterus didn't really feel like I was 8 weeks and that the measurements were indicating that I was just over 5 weeks. Still too early to see a heartbeat. She asked me to make an appointment with another office in a couple of weeks just to make sure everything was ok. She said she wasn't concerned.
I walked out of the office devastated. I didn't even think I wanted this pregnancy and now that I was faced with not having a living being in my womb I was unprepared for the sadness and sense of loss that I felt. And there was nothing I could do but wait. Hard to not think about something like that. It consumed my free thoughts all the time, at work, at home, in bed when I was trying to fall asleep. I didn't show my emotion to my husband because I didn't want him to worry about me. I just kept it all inside.
My mother and I went to see Marley & Me at the movie theater after that appointment. I thought it would be good to get out of the house. I had read the book and knew it would be a tearjerker but I just wanted to get my mind off of the situation. Bad choice of movie for that. In one scene, the character played by Jennifer Aniston found out she was pregnant. They were so happy. Then at 10 weeks they had a sonogram and there was no heartbeat. She had lost the baby. It was almost unbearable to sit there. I think I went through a whole box of tissues in that dark theater, hoping that wouldn't be me in a couple of weeks.
My husband and mother were very reassuring but I knew that if the calculations were indicating that I was 8 weeks and I was measuring 3 weeks behind, the fetus could have just stopped growing and died at 5 weeks and I was still carrying the remains of the pregnancy. Why couldn't a time machine just take me into the future so I could just know for sure? But I waited.
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