August 18th: Another freak out...

Written 8/18/11: 7.5 weeks pregnant

Dear E,

I am generally a very relaxed person. Some people (like my mom) might even say I’m too relaxed when it comes to certain things.

Well, I am certainly not relaxed when it comes to this pregnancy. In fact, I’m the opposite of the word. I have never been so anxious, stressed out, and physically ill with worry about anything before in my life. Even with Stevie, the experience of losing her was obviously horrible, but it wasn’t really stressful. I didn’t spend hours, days, weeks, or months worrying she was going to die. She just did. It all happened so quickly, so suddenly, that I didn’t have any time beforehand to be stressed out about it.

So this is all very new, and very scary to me. Okay, make that terrifying.

Anyway, this is all an attempt to justify the crazy freak out I had Tuesday night/yesterday morning.

Remember that brown spotting that had me convinced I was about to miscarry about a week ago? Well, it went away for almost a week, then it came back at about 4PM Tuesday. There was more of it this time, and the color was a bit different.  As soon I noticed it, I went into complete panic mode. I started shaking, felt dizzy, and called my doctor’s office immediately. The triage nurse who I spoke to got me in for an ultrasound the next day, and told me to just try to relax and take it easy until then. That if the spotting turned into period-like bleeding, to go to the ER.

I called my mom, convinced her that I was miscarrying, and went to lie down in bed. I texted Dad, told him it was an emergency and to leave work as soon as possible. Of course he was worried, but I think he secretly just thought I was being irrational and a little crazy.

I spent that evening and night in a state of terror. I wouldn’t get out of bed, afraid that if I stood up, I was going to start bleeding more. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. I just kept repeating, “I can’t believe this is happening to me,” over and over and over again.

Finally, morning came. I stayed in bed until it was time to leave for the ultrasound. I made Dad call into work so I wouldn’t be alone “when we got the bad news.”

We were silent the entire drive to the doctor’s office. I can’t put into words how scared and preemptively sad I was.

Thankfully, we only had to wait about five minutes after arriving before the ultrasound tech called us back. I was so relieved it was the same woman who did my first ultrasound last week. She is unbelievably nice and totally sympathetic to my fears and concerns.

As soon as she started getting prepped to do the ultrasound, I started shaking again.

Then, I saw you. You looked so different already. So much more like a baby.

“There’s the heartbeat,” the tech said, zooming in on your tiny chest. She turned the volume up so we could hear it. “It’s up to 158bpm, which is perfect.”

I asked if you were measuring on track. She said you were, to the exact day.

You can see the umbilical cord now, and the outline of the sack really clearly

I really couldn’t believe it.

She looked for a long time for any reasons for the spotting, and once again found nothing. No tears, a long and closed cervix, everything as it should be. I was again told that it must be from the progesterone suppositories. Those damn suppositories are going to be the death of me, I swear.

While I am so relieved that you’re okay, I am still incredibly scared. I don’t know how to relax and enjoy this. I actually think I am going to look into seeing a counselor. I really need to learn some ways to cope with this stress because I know it’s not healthy for me, or for you, for me to be so anxious all the time.

People warned me that pregnancy after loss was difficult. But I think I thought I was somehow going to avoid the fear or something. I thought since it’s been over a year since Stevie died, I’d be able to handle this. That I’d be strong enough to do this on my own. I’m quickly realizing I’m not as strong as I thought I was.

Please continue to grow and thrive, little one. I love you so much already.

Xoxo,

Mom