Wednesday August 3, 2022
15w0d
After my display of complete and utter calmness and stability at our 12-week ultrasound, the Doctor offered to perform a 15 week ultrasound and an early anatomy ultrasound at 18 weeks.
And after I made her promise it was because she was being nice and not because she saw something and wasn’t telling us, I agreed.
I went to today’s appointment alone…which seemed fine until I got in the car to drive to the hospital.
I don’t know if I saw straight the entire way there – I focused on my breathing and ate my butter spindles and drank water and focused on my breathing, as doing all three of those things at the same time was proving to be impossible.
After I paused in the parking lot, considering the fact that if I just didn’t go in, they couldn’t tell me any bad news, I stuffed more pretzels in my jean jacket pocket and went inside.
I hate it there as much as I love it there.
It’s hard to be in that waiting room, to be in that ultrasound room, to listen to the Tech do her job, to wait for the doctor.
But the way that they talk to you, the way they care for you – a larger positive does not exist.
While I eventually opted against begging the doctor to let me wear headphones during the ultrasound, she started and I cried again (because “calm and stable”) and listened just enough to hear her say “looks good, looks good”.
I alternated between turning away and closing my eyes, and sneaking a peek at the screen.
She left and it felt like years before the doctor came in, though I’m pretty sure it was closer to 6-8 minutes.
“Everything looks great”
Me: “but?”
The doctor laughed and reiterated that things looked good and, while they couldn’t officially sign off on anatomy until the 18-22 week scan, she felt confident this pregnancy would be positive.
I bawled and thanked her as if she was the one that personally placed a healthy growing baby inside me.
I have no idea what will happen in three weeks at our early anatomy scan – but I know that Gregg will be with me, and that I can’t stop living and just sit on my floor eating Puffcorn waiting for the baby to be ok.
I have to keep going to work and the gym and to dinner and watching The Bachelorette.
And, more than anything, I have to start talking about her, instead of leading with “if we get to have a baby shower” or “well, we will see what happened”
But, you know, we’ll see what happens.
Monday August 15, 2022
16w5d
The weeks between doctor appointments are fine.
It’s every Monday before.
The beginning of the week where I don’t know what the end of the week is going to look like.
I have a 17-week check up on Wednesday with my regular doc (who has also been so confident that he too will eat his words if things go south).
All they do at the 17-week appointment is listen to the heartbeat.
Something so quick and small
Yet absolutely terrifying.
What if it’s not there?
What if everything that was found and said at 15 weeks no longer exists?
What if at this time 48 hours from now, I’m in the same situation I was in 2020?
I wish I didn’t have the appointment the day before my birthday.
Although to be honest, there isn’t a day I’d prefer.
I’m still wishing I could send someone to all of my appointments for me.
Apparently that’s as easy as asking someone to get gas for you when your car is sitting in your driveway, not theirs.
I still haven’t figured out how to relax at these appointments (apparently a shot of whiskey is a big “no-no”) so instead I drink coffee and work and workout (when I eat enough) and then wait for nighttime when I can get all comfy in bed and stare at the ceiling and let my mind wander as far as it wants.
It’s not great, but it’s what is currently keeping me afloat.
Tuesday August 23, 2022
17w6d
We have our anatomy scan on Friday and to be honest, I do not see myself sleeping well until then.
I understand this time is different; my brain gets it – we only saw Raya at 6.5 weeks and then at 20….we’ve visited Ms. New Baby at 8 weeks, 12 weeks, 15 weeks, and now early anatomy at 18.5 weeks.
She looked lovely each and every time.
Everything has checked out well this pregnancy.
We tested negative on every non-invasive prenatal test.
I’ve heard the baby’s heartbeat at every appointment.
I’ve been healthy.
But none of that is different from last time.
Everything was normal until it wasn’t.
I hate being in that ultrasound room.
“If there is something wrong, it’s better to catch it early”.
I’m worried about having something to catch at all.
Raya was healthy until she wasn’t.
I was safe until I wasn’t.
And I cannot stand to see the look on Gregg’s face if it happens again.
Friday August 26, 2022
18w2d
Welp, today is the day.
I asked for prayers last night.
My family doesn’t ask for prayers.
We ask if we can pray for others.
But I don’t think I have ever been so scared or desperate.
In one hour & two minutes from now, I will be in the same ultrasound room I was in when they officially diagnosed Raya.
And 30 minutes after that, I will either be planning a baby shower, or scheduling a surgery.
Realistically, I will either be taking Gregg to Target to get some red velvet cake or scheduling a surgery.
And if anyone ever says trauma isn’t real, I would like to invite them to go into the same room almost 2 years after they were told their baby was dying for another ultrasound to see their 2nd child.
Then try to tell me it isn’t real.
_______________________________________________________________________
“Everything looks good, I have no concerns”
Would it be weird to get that written on a canvas to hang in the nursery?
Or asking the Doctor to sign & have the statement notarized?
Both Gregg & I stared at the provider, the news taking a second to register that we were going to make it further than with Raya.
Dr. Clay’s original statement from my first appointment ran through my head
You’re going to worry every day until your anatomy scan that something is wrong. And then, when everything goes fine, because it will, you’re going to worry because you will actually have a baby coming”
He’s right – we probably will worry.
But for those few moments sitting in the doctor’s office, I don’t think there was a single worry between the two of us.
Oh, and they had us in a different ultrasound room than last time – not sure if that was calculated or not, but as someone who is not a fan of physical contact (minus the kind that got me pregnant….) I could have hugged the nurse that walked us past Raya’s ultrasound room and into a completely different one.
Saturday September 25, 2022
22w4d
Today, I am 22.5 weeks.
When we said goodbye to Raya, I was 22.5 weeks.
As it sits, there are no goodbyes planned this time around.
Outside of that, I don’t really have any feelings that can be translated into words.
Tuesday October 11, 2022
24w6d
I did not sleep a second last night.
The anxiety I was waiting for that I was just about to praise for not coming, finally arrived.
Coming home from work, I was wondering if Baby Girl was moving enough during the day.
With Raya, I had an anterior placenta (I know, gross, sorry) which was one of the concerns after her diagnosis; that she would pass and I wouldn’t know because I could never feel her, and then I would go septic).
Going to bed, I was wondering if I should go to the doctor, or what amount of movement was normal.
Saturday night I thought she was doing gymnastics in my stomach.
Last night it was like she had never stepped on a mat.
At 1130, I was tapping my belly, begging her to move
Then again at midnight, and 1230, and 2am, then 4am.
To be fair, she did move once in a while.
But the second she stopped moving, my mind took off instead, wondering if it would be the last time.
It was 4:12am when the thought of having to go to the doctor and then tell my husband I caused him to lose another child made me sweaty and dizzy.
That I would have to go through labor and figure out how to survive this a second time.
When after the first one, I swore to God I didn’t think I’d be able to.
It was 7:46am, halfway to work, when she moved again.
And again, and again.
I messaged with the nurse all morning, wondering if what was happening was normal.
Finally, she asked me point blank: “what exactly is the concern?”
The only acceptable answer being “nothing” and “absolutely everything”.
She talked me through the process of being 24/25 weeks pregnant and how it looked, and how things would start to look at 28, 30, etc.
All while Baby Girl was moving like she had just had 145 mg of caffeine.
Which, ya know, she did.
I don’t know what things will look like when I leave work today or go to bed tonight.
I’m not sure what tomorrow will bring or how often I’ll lose sleep over this girl.
But I would vow never to sleep again if I could just be 100% certain at all times that she was ok.
The Doctor assured me that I could come in at any time for a doppler reading.
Lucky for them, I’m always only 10 minutes away, and have no shame walking in and asking for one 5 days a week.
Friday October 21, 2022
26w2d
Last year, someone asked if I had “closure” with it being the 1-year anniversary of Raya’s birth & death.
I didn’t.
And for the record, being pregnant on the 2nd anniversary also doesn’t give you “closure” on losing your first child.
“Closure” isn’t a thing.
“Moving on” isn’t a thing.
There’s moving forward.
There’s watching the hard days get fewer & further between.
There’s newfound happiness & contentment you never thought you’d see again.
But there’s also thoughts of your next child never getting to meet your first.
There’s seeing your favorite pair of young sisters & knowing your two girls will never have that bond.
And there are really dark manic midnights & 4am’s when you stare at where the ceiling fan would be if the lights were on, debating if you can actually see the blades spinning in the dark or if you’ve finally lost your mind.
I’m terrified for the rest of this pregnancy.
The kind of “just under the skin” terrified where you’re worried but not enough for it to overflow out of your skin & into the air around you where everyone else can feel it.
Just worried enough for terror to beat out coffee for the only remaining consistency in life.
For you to pause when the red light turns green to avoid the risk of finding yourself hit by a car and back in a hospital bed.
Clinging to your stomach, begging another child not to leave you.
Then you find yourself face to face with your husband having to rip his servant heart to pieces once more because your body failed again.
And you’re single because who could love someone that failed so terribly to bring them a child?
Then your hair is turning gray and you’re alone on a porch watching the lives of everyone around you flourish and their families grow and your brother is on his fourth kid before you realize you’re still sitting in your car & the light has been green for days but you haven’t gone because you’ve entranced yourself into oblivion & the very thought of hitting the gas pedal is too much to consider.
It’s a lot.
But the baggage is bundled so nicely & tied with a dusty rose-colored bow belonging to a sweet baby girl that will be here when the snow is falling to remind you that the notion of beauty falling with it isn’t impossible.
to be continued….
