Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Backstory: Part 2

So, following the positive pregnancy test came the dreaded first ultrasound.
I wish those were not so freakishly scary.
(I also wish that it did not involve stirrups and "scootching"
but that's another post in itself).

We went in for our first ultrasound and I was approximately 7 weeks.
We were praying for a heartbeat.
We didn't care if there were one or two.
All we wanted was a heartbeat.

Dr. G came in and did his thing.
And, miraculously, there was a heartbeat.
In a healthy sac, right on track, and measuring ahead of schedule.

He poked and prodded around more.
He got quiet.
And then showed us that he found another sac.

We were not surprised.
This had happened with Nugget
(and is actually pretty common)
where there were two sacs- one was just empty.

But, he kept poking around and eventually
found a little heartbeat, beating away in the top part of the sac.
It seemed to be a bit squished but Dr. G did his best to get an accurate measurement.
This little one was measuring 8 days behind the other embryo.
And it's heartbeat was slow.
Slower than what it should be.

If you look closely, at the tip of the comma-shaped sac, that is where little guy was squished.
We asked Dr. G questions,
he tried to give us answers.
He told us that he would be very surprised if the 2nd one made it to the next appointment.
That I should expect to miscarry between now and then.
And, if I were to miscarry, we would want it to happen sooner than later.
The sooner it miscarries, the less affect it has on the other embryo.

Now we didn't know what to think.
We knew we should be thankful and relieved that there was one healthy little being.
But, it's hard to celebrate knowing that there is one not doing well.

And we were torn.
Obviously, we wanted both to survive and thrive.
But, if one was not compatible with life,
we wanted the miscarriage to happen sooner than later
(for a number of reasons).

We didn't know what to think.
Or what to pray for.
And what to tell people.

So, we left the office.
Not knowing if we should go out for our celebratory dinner or not.
And expecting signs of miscarriage within the next week or two.
(Which also happened to be the last few weeks of school-
one of the busiest times of the school year).

I tried to relax.
I prayed.
I told myself over and over that worrying about it won't change the outcome.
I talked to the little sprouts and told them to keep growing.

I prepared myself.
I prepared for spotting
or cramping
or, at least, a silent ultrasound at our next appointment.

I knew how to prepare myself.
I knew what to expect.
I knew that if I did miscarry again,
that I could handle it.
(I wouldn't want to, but I could if I had to.)
I hate to say it,
but I expected the worst.

So, we waited
for 12 days until our next appointment
to see what was going on with Herbie and Puckett.
Being hopefully realistic.

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