Maybe it was the questioning whether or not I even wanted to endure another 9 months of pregnancy...
maybe it was that I kept forgetting my pre-natal vitamins...
or oogling the wines when Rob & I finally got our date night after 5 months of waiting...
or maybe it was that incredibly l-o-n-g walk all around Washington DC Monday night...
I woke up at 7AM to Evie shuffling into the room. I got up. I peed. I turned around after wiping a bright pink wipe... pink water.
"Oh no."
Rob from the bed, "What is it?!."
"Oh no!"
Rob, "No!"
"Yes."
That's it. Its over. I feel like the last 2 weeks have been 2 months of my life.
Between getting really sick over Easter (fevers/head aches. A severe cold or hay fever?), the skipping out on wine night, my birthday, our big date night, traveling to DC for a work seminar.... Gawd, how much longer was I going to have to wait before I could safely make the announcement and how much longer was it going to take to get to December 10th (the date the online pregnancy calculator spat out for me).
I went to the linen closet and dug up pads from when I had Evie... I never use these things and practically forgot how to even line it up in my panties.
I look up the doctor's number... 2 weeks from now was my 8 week confirmation appointment.
Doctor doesn't open till 8AM. I wait. I'm OK. Its cool. Its so early, its not like its some other devastating news that millions of women hear. I play house with Evie while Rob showers - I had informed him that he's going with me.
Rob is done showering and catches me at the moment it begins to hit me. I flee to sob in the privacy of our bathroom during a long, hot shower.
I decide to shave my legs... might as well give the doctor the red carpet treatment for what will ultimately be devastating news, right? I quickly feel stupid for having these thoughts. If you know me well, you know that's me. I pad my hurt with jokes. Only when I'm really upset do I clam-up and withdraw. I'm hardly ever at a loss for sarcasm and words...
Its suddenly, magically, 8AM. I call the doctor and get his nurse.
She asks about cramping - I never have cramping. I inform her I never even felt contractions when I was having them while heading in for a C-Section. I wouldn't know a cramp if I was having one. She says to get in at 9:35AM.
Rob takes Evie to the sitter's, walks the dog, and just as suddenly... its time to go...
As we walk into the doctor's office, I try to beat myself up mentally. I'm so stupid for doing this and that, I'm stupid to think this might not be what I know it is... God, why are you so stupid?!. I tell Rob I was pissed at the pending nervous chatter we'd inevitably share while waiting in the wait room. I also inform him of all the drinks I plan to have as soon as we leave. I quickly map out my afternoon so that I could be on a 5th round of drinks by 3PM... just in time for a nap before we must pick up Evie again.
We get there and quickly advance to the second of three wait rooms. A baby boy with a full head of hair fro licks on the floor while smiling wide for Rob. He playfully waves and I recoil. Go away you fat cherub... can't you see I want to sulk?
The hot nurse walks us in. I get weighed. I swear its 2lbs more than I was when I was just there 2 months ago. We get a room. She, again, goes over my brief medically history and tells me to have a great day while we wait for the ultrasound room. I start to cry. I fight it off. We, thankfully, don't wait long.
I quickly undress in the ultrasound room and Rob banters with me. I have visions of pools of blood suddenly forming all around me while I also try to concentrate to not allow that to happen in a public setting. My brain is fighting with itself.
The doctor softly knocks and walks in asking how I'm doing. I give him the recent overview of spotting... how I just have this feeling its not good since I'm not as tired or as hungry as I *should* be at this point... but my boobs are big so I know I am pregnant. He, thankfully, decided to get on with the show in lieu of playing theoretical games.
We turn on the ultrasound machine and I am quickly thinking back on how awesome this moment was with Evie. How I couldn't wait to be here in 2 weeks and how exciting it is to see that little white outline of a floating mini baby.
I see the big black hole and the doctor skips around it... I begin to think he is sparing me...
The doctor then zooms to the black hole... I quickly scan my memory for all the various prenatal visit photos I had been looking at on the Internet. I know what I should see and I don't see it. I start to go blank.
The doctor says he sees part of a yolk sac in the gestational sac... I ask if the baby is too small to see if it was there. He seems to agree with that sentiment. He then goes back to the big white fields and points out where blood is pooled. He explains it has no where to go - it will either re-absorb or "flush-out". No clue as to why its there and whether or not this means miscarriage. He says, plainly, that he can't call it and doesn't know if this will go up or down from here. I must have looked at him completely blank wanting him to make heads or tails of this. He said, "I'm not trying to sugar-coat this (I quickly cut him off and tell him I don't want it sugar-coated... to give it to me straight-up so I don't spend all night with false hopes)." He finishes by saying to keep good thoughts up while he sends us to the lab for blood work. Progesterone levels will reveal what's happening. If about 50 - its all good. If below, then we talk about a natural miscarriage or DNC. I say nothing. Rob, thank God, reads my mind and asks how long for the blood test results. Tomorrow, he says... and leaves.
I. lose. it.
I have to let it out.
I pull it together and dress for the lab.
The nurse walking us to the lab gives us a pep talk... basically reminding us that the fat lady hasn't sung quite yet.
3 viles are pulled.
And now, we wait.
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