There's been a lot I've wanted to post over the last week, but admittedly it's been hard to find the words. Finally, I think I'm ready to explain this rollercoaster ride we've been on.
Two Fridays ago, we had our highly anticipated first OB appointment. Naturally, we were nervous but so excited to finally catch a glimpse of the tiny being growing inside of me. The doctor appointment was going well, everything appearing normal. I couldn't help but laugh at my husband's face while the nurse was essentially putting lube and a condom on the "wand" for the transvaginal ultrasound. In fact, when the doctor asked him to come stand by me so we could both see the ultrasound clearly, we were still giggling like little kids. After a few seconds, we saw a little blob and I think my heart must have skipped a beat seeing that tiny little fuzzy patch on the monitor...and then our world came crashing down around us. Our doc became very quiet and gently said that he was concerned that he couldn't see a heart beat. He checked a little more and took some measurements. At 7 weeks 3 days along, I was only showing at 6.5 weeks. With not being able to see the flutter of the heart, he said that he wanted to send me for blood tests to check my hormone levels and try to figure out what's going on.
The following Monday, I dropped by a lab to have my blood drawn again. I was called in and right before she stabbed with the needle, the nurse happily announced that she was "feeling jittery" and had probably had too much coffee. Sure enough, it was probably the bloodiest blood draw I've had in a while and resulted in a nice red bruise, ironically about the same size as the little peanut in my uterus. I figured the pain is worth it to know that my baby is doing well. Turns out that the blood test results were actually very normal. The hCg hormone was still rising (up to 93K over the weekend) and my progesterone levels were on the low end of normal, but not conclusive. My OB noted that from this point, it could go both ways and he was cautiously optimistic for the success of the pregnancy. I took this to be hopeful, but I'd already been preparing for the worst for several days at this point. I had words with peanut, asking it to hang in there. I was hopeful that that extreme nausea and tiredness wasn't a result of anxiety, but a sign from the little one that it was doing ok.
Last Friday, we went in for a secondary ultrasound with a substitute OB while mine is out of town. He was happy that my cervix was still closed with no bleeding or cramping. Once again, hooked up to the ultrasound machine, but no giggling this time around. We could see a large gestational sac, but no yolk sac or fetal pole, and still no heartbeat. At 8w3d, it sank in that we'd lost this baby.
So, here I am, waiting to miscarry. I'm waiting to see if my body figures out what's going on in the next few days, but have an appointment with my regular OB later this week to consider the option of a D&C to remove the tissue from my uterus. It's strange to think of it in such clinical terms. A part of me is wondering why I'm not more of a mess. In fact, there are a few family members who seem to be having a harder time with this situation than me (or my husband). We almost feel guilty that we're so calm - but I look at this as something that happened with good reason. My body knows what's best and if it knew that this wasn't going to be a healthy pregnancy, better that we have to deal with this now than bigger complications later on. As much as it hurts, I know which I prefer. We will have opportunity to try again - we weren't expecting to fall pregnant within 6 weeks anyway and we're fortunate to know that we even have that option.
At this point, there is nothing to do but wait. I've always heard that it's not possible to be "kind of pregnant", although I'm feeling somewhat inclined to disagree. I'm pregnant, but not, and it's a weird limbo to be in.
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