PG Stuff

At the risk of sounding positive (whose blog am I reading??), we had our 6th (yes, you read that right) ultrasound yesterday and as always, despite my heart pounding terror sitting in the waiting room, it did not fail to astound. Of the 5 we had previous, only 2 were actually prescribed. The first extraneous one was just for peace of mind because our RE rocks and allows such things and then almost 2 weeks ago, we had a bleeding episode following a session of insanely tame sexy time which prompted an 'emergency' ultrasound at my HMO (emergency as in I was freaking out, despite the fact that the bleeding had completely stopped).

My HMO, in all their big corporate 'let's save a buck or two at the expense of up-to-date care' suckiness, had the shittiest machine imaginable. After being spoiled by the crystal clear images at the RE's office, we could barely see the flicker of a heartbeat with the HMO and in fact, the practitioner couldn't even identify the head from the bum or the source of the bleeding, so you can imagine that when my RE offered me another appointment later that day, I snapped it up. Yes, 2 ultrasounds in one day, but if it means sanity, then sign me up.

The equipment was world's different. Not only did we see the head, but we also saw the newly emerging limbs, the umbilical cord and best of all, movement. We also spotted a blood clot far away from my uterus that was likely the source of the bleeding. Thankfully, it's since resolved itself (I hear this can be common for pg women due to increased blood flow). It was the first time that I really started to grasp that there is a strong likelihood that at the end of all of this, we may actually have a baby.

We officially graduated from the RE's last week and had our first OB appointment yesterday. This was significant for us in a number of respects. During our last pregnancy, we were 'graduated' at a mere 6 1/2 weeks. There was an entire month between that ultrasound and the one I got at my new OB's and by then, the baby had been long gone. So, you might be able to imagine my utter co-dependence on my RE. Firstly, they have been AMAZING. Even on my week of 3 ultrasounds, they never made me feel as if I was a burden or completely over-the-top in my anxiety (which I probably was). They held our hand, spent time discussing everything, so when it was time to leave the nest, I was afraid. I mean, in my past experience, leaving RE=bad things. So as we sat in the OB's waiting room, I know that the last time we had been set free was still at the forefront of both of our minds. I could see the other waiting room as if it were yesterday. Thankfully, as we decided to go with a provider covered under my PPO rather than my HMO (and yet still in the middle of being double-covered I still never had IF coverage), we will likely never step foot into that other waiting room again.

At 9 weeks, 3 days, our little bean is measuring at 10 weeks 1 day and moving, twisting and waving up a storm. I was so relieved that I was seeing life on a screen outside my OB's office, that I actually screamed a few times (yes, when I get excited, I squeal like a little girl). I know that it was all in relief. My baby is alive. That's all I can think. I can barely attend to some of the details others were catching because of the joy I felt in just seeing proof that he/she had found a way to exist beyond the RE's office. At that point, it felt real. Of course, as one gets farther away from that experience, it begins to revert back to the surreal feelings bordering on disbelief. After explaining my heightened chance for insanity without frequent feedback, the NP gave me the option to come back when I want for an ultrasound. Awesome. I've found another enabler. Now I don't feel so lost outside my RE's doors. I do wonder, will there ever be a week during which I'll feel confident enough to not have an ultrasound to reassure me? Probably not, but I can say that compared to a few weeks back, I'm in a much quieter, calmer place.

An Infertile Pregnancy

I have penned the draft of this blog a million and one times in my head, and each time I am faced with the competing dilemmas of the fact that there is simply too much to say and that I am not quite clear on where to go with this blog at the moment. I have always felt that 'if' I ever did get pregnant again, I would create a separate pregnancy blog. But I would never be naive enough to feel that at 9 weeks this one is for sure, so just as I'm not leaping out my front door buying onesies and strollers yet, I'm certainly not going to devote an entire separate blog to something that could still potentially be more of a memorial. I know, ever the positive Patsy. That's the infertile in me, folks. You see, yes I may be pregnant, but that's not where the story of infertility ends for me.

In fact, the farther I progress into this pregnancy, the more I envy those to which it came easily. I wonder, does their heart pump uncontrollably the second before they look at every piece of toilet paper inspecting it for blood? Do they question whether every twinge will begin a process that ends in another dead baby? Do they look at events several months in the future and feel the need to preface it, "If I'm still pregnant"? I wonder, do they sit in the OB's office awaiting their appointment, in half panic, with the memory of what a practitioner's face looks like when they discover your child has died seared into their memory and praying that they'll never see it again?

Or do they only imagine what their child will look like? How they'll decorate the nursery? What sex they'll be? What they'll name them? I won't lie and say that as the ultrasounds pass by one-by-one, these things have not flittered through my mind, but I wonder what it would be like to have these thoughts dominate. I know of someone who will be in a wedding in September with me. While she is not yet pregnant, she has announced she is trying and is so confident in her future pregnancy that she is already making plans to have a maternity bridesmaid's dress. As of now, I am pregnant and yet, I have requested to postpone any dress plans until at least June. How I wish I had the same blind confidence.

This is not to say that those who conceived easily do not have any of these worries, but coming from a place where for years nothing went right, I believe it's harder to imagine that they ever will. I'm getting there, though. Bit-by-bit, but I'm afraid to let go. It's like if I believe too readily, than perhaps this in and of itself will result in heartache. Oh, what a number infertility has played on my mind. For all of the things it has given, it does still remind me that it is something never to be ignored. It will always be there, threatening to take even the small victories. I hope that some day, I will finally be able to just 'be'. One step at a time, I guess.

Mr. S: New Blog! Check it Out!

No need to accuse me of being one of those chicks who got what she wanted and is now hitting the road and leaving her infertility blog in the dust. That couldn't be farther from the truth. First, I have not yet gotten what I wanted (and until I leave a hospital with a live child this will continue to be the case) and second, I suspect I will have many continuing bones to pick with infertility well into my older years, regardless of how this all ends up. I have much still to discuss, but before I somehow muster the alertness to do so, I'd like to introduce you to Mr. S's brand spanking new infertility blog: Two Peas Waiting for Our Pod, or as Mel from Stirrup Queens calls it, the elusive male point of view. Enjoy, and in the mean time, I swear I will stop being a bad little blogger at some point!