Today was my first ultrasound.
Well, I suppose that's not true. I had both kinds of ultrasound in the hospital while the were diagnosing my ectopic pregnancy. I had countless monitoring ultrasounds through our two fresh IVF cycles, and plenty of monitoring ultrasounds during all of our FET cycles. I scheduled a "first ultrasound" during our last pregnancy, which ended up being a diagnostic ultrasound to confirm a miscarriage.
So today was not my first ultrasound.
But it was my first "I'm pregnant" ultrasound. I was a mess when I woke up this morning. I just felt sick and shaky and tired, an odd mix of adrenaline and dread. Matt's out of town, so I was going alone to the appointment.
It was a long appointment. Both kinds of ultrasound. The tech was slow and thorough, and very kind. But since I was doing this through a hospital radiology department and not at my RE's office, the very sweet ultrasound tech didn't (couldn't) tell me anything as she was working. I caught one glimpse of the screen, and I saw SOMETHING in there, but I didn't know if it was the right shape or size or in the right place or anything.
So I spent twenty minutes in a reasonably compromising position, only to leave the hospital with no news. I wasn't anxious or frustrated as much as I was just a little sad. I'm so conditioned to believe that all my pregnancies will end, and end early, and all I wanted this morning was to know, one way or the other, what I was dealing with. I wasn't even afraid of bad news. I was just tired of not knowing. This last week between second beta and first ultrasound felt so long, and so it just made me sad to have to wait another eight hours for results.
As it turns out, though, the results were GOOD.
I'm a little afraid to type out that word "good," as if I could jinx myself.
But here's what we know:
The ultrasound showed a beautiful gestational sac. And a beautiful yolk sac. And the suggestion of a fetal pole, which is nice to see this early. All very normal things, that very normal pregnant women take for granted. All exciting things to me, because this is the farthest we've ever gotten, the most good news we've ever received about a pregnancy thus far.
Soon, I'll be a basket case again, worrying about whether I'm cramping too much or that my boobs aren't sore enough, scared about whether they will find a heartbeat at next week's ultrasound.
But for today, for just a little while, I'm trying to let myself smile. Today, I am pregnant. And I know this not just because of numbers on a page, but because someone saw a picture. Someone saw that I was pregnant. So for a little while, at least, I can let down my guard and see myself as pregnant, too.
Well, I suppose that's not true. I had both kinds of ultrasound in the hospital while the were diagnosing my ectopic pregnancy. I had countless monitoring ultrasounds through our two fresh IVF cycles, and plenty of monitoring ultrasounds during all of our FET cycles. I scheduled a "first ultrasound" during our last pregnancy, which ended up being a diagnostic ultrasound to confirm a miscarriage.
So today was not my first ultrasound.
But it was my first "I'm pregnant" ultrasound. I was a mess when I woke up this morning. I just felt sick and shaky and tired, an odd mix of adrenaline and dread. Matt's out of town, so I was going alone to the appointment.
It was a long appointment. Both kinds of ultrasound. The tech was slow and thorough, and very kind. But since I was doing this through a hospital radiology department and not at my RE's office, the very sweet ultrasound tech didn't (couldn't) tell me anything as she was working. I caught one glimpse of the screen, and I saw SOMETHING in there, but I didn't know if it was the right shape or size or in the right place or anything.
So I spent twenty minutes in a reasonably compromising position, only to leave the hospital with no news. I wasn't anxious or frustrated as much as I was just a little sad. I'm so conditioned to believe that all my pregnancies will end, and end early, and all I wanted this morning was to know, one way or the other, what I was dealing with. I wasn't even afraid of bad news. I was just tired of not knowing. This last week between second beta and first ultrasound felt so long, and so it just made me sad to have to wait another eight hours for results.
As it turns out, though, the results were GOOD.
I'm a little afraid to type out that word "good," as if I could jinx myself.
But here's what we know:
The ultrasound showed a beautiful gestational sac. And a beautiful yolk sac. And the suggestion of a fetal pole, which is nice to see this early. All very normal things, that very normal pregnant women take for granted. All exciting things to me, because this is the farthest we've ever gotten, the most good news we've ever received about a pregnancy thus far.
Soon, I'll be a basket case again, worrying about whether I'm cramping too much or that my boobs aren't sore enough, scared about whether they will find a heartbeat at next week's ultrasound.
But for today, for just a little while, I'm trying to let myself smile. Today, I am pregnant. And I know this not just because of numbers on a page, but because someone saw a picture. Someone saw that I was pregnant. So for a little while, at least, I can let down my guard and see myself as pregnant, too.
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