Laughing with Sarah

Today was the big day. It started with a giant blood draw. Thank goodness for husband-hand-holders and very kind nurses, who let you lay back in big recliners and who offer you juice to drink afterwards, and cool rags if you need them for your forehead. I'm not a guaranteed fainter, and you'd think that I'd be over my phobia after so many blood draws and shots with the IVF cycles, but I still do get anxious. And it helps to have caring people who take that anxiety seriously. Then the appointment itself. We met Dr. Locke for the first time today, and he is wonderful. Kind, with a good sense of humor, not afraid to talk details and clinical stuff, but also not heavy-handed with the information. I had to, once again, tell the story of our crazy ttc journey. I don't mind telling it for my sake - it's been a rough five years, but I have made my own peace with it - but it shocks whomever I am telling, and I don't like that they feel bad for me, not because I d

So on Saturday, I woke up and decided, last-minute, to go ahead and participate in our local Color Run 5k. No real training to speak of. Only a handful of runs and walks in the last few weeks. And yet I decided I'd regret it if I didn't do it. I've been dying to do a color run for a long while now. And it was cool but sunny, and lots of fun, and even though I didn't run the whole thing, I still felt pretty good, and it felt AMAZING to be out and moving. Not sure where I found the energy to get up and jump into the race. Maybe getting close to 11 hours of sleep Friday night had something to do with it? And if we're being totally honest, I crashed on the couch late that afternoon. But still. The whole decision to run felt very much like a decision made by a not-pregnant person. I'm still stuck in this space where I don't feel pregnant. Not really at all. I'm overeating and oversleeping, but that can be explained away by stress and the gray weather an

It is weird and baffling to me that I crossed the eight-week mark last weekend. Six felt like a milestone, because I'd never made it that far before. Seven felt like a milestone, because I'd REALLY never made it that far, and my ultrasound during that week showed me a baby that looked a teensy bit like a baby, and I got a picture of it to keep. But eight has come and gone without much fanfare. Don't get me wrong, it's been a reasonably eventful week and a half. I got stuck in the middle of trying to get the hospital to send my ultrasound results to my RE, and trying to make sure that they actually received the fax, and that all just took more time than it should have. But then, once my RE had the results, I was cleared to make a first OB appointment. I really am not thrilled about being released from my RE to a local OB. Because everybody at that RE's office knows me so very well . Not only have I built up relationships by hanging on there for a year and a half

Honestly, I haven't managed to shake the fear from yesterday's ultrasound, even though everything seems okay. For some reason, the dread has gotten stuck in my head instead of the relief. So I'm a little stressed out. And it was a stressful day around church. Not bad at all. Just busy, and there was a death in the congregation, which just makes everything feel heavier. Stress plus anxiety plus still being pregnant (as far as I know) means that today, all I've done is EAT. Wanted to grab a mocha on my way home from work yesterday but forgot. So I grabbed one for breakfast today instead. Decaf. But didn't bother to ask for skim milk. Mmmm chocolate and calories. Met with the family of the woman who died, and then swung by McDonald's on my way back to church. I have a serious weakness for french fries. And nuggets. And BBQ sauce. Afternoon meeting involved a homemade lemon bar and a few almonds. Helping out with the Wednesday after-school program involved an Or

Let's set the stage. One week ago, I went in for an ultrasound, and it was the first time they checked for a heartbeat. Not more than five minutes into the exam, the ultrasound tech showed me the screen, assured me that there was a heartbeat, and that she'd measure it later in the exam. Today, I went in for my ultrasound, and she was quiet. I peeked at the screen as best I could, which wasn't very well, and thought I saw a big, empty sac. She didn't have me do the hold-my-breath-to-check-the-heartbeat thing like she did last time. She didn't turn the screen. She didn't say anything, except to periodically ask me if I was still doing all right. Twenty minutes of this. I was devastated. From what I could piece together in my very non-professional opinion, the ultrasound must have revealed an empty sac, and no heartbeat even to measure, and I felt so dejected and sad. I was pretty worked up by the end of the exam, trying to figure out how to gracefully slip ho

Last Tuesday (April 2), I went for my second OB ultrasound. According to the date of my transfer, I was 6w3d. And lo and behold, they found a teensy little baby measuring 6w2d with a HEARTBEAT! 113bpm, which is totally normal for being just over six weeks. So awesome. So very awesome. For the last week, I've felt sort of pregnant, but a lot myself. Like, boobs are sometimes sore, and they seem huge to me, and there's plenty of bloat going on in my belly. But aside from being crazy tired, no other symptoms. This past weekend, I crossed the 7 week mark. Today, I feel not so pregnant. And I'm not worried, per se, but I am totally conscious of every little thing my body does. Kind of crampy throughout the morning and early afternoon, which is either totally normal or totally not normal, so I'm trying to keep a level head. My next ultrasound is tomorrow. I want to see a baby. One that has grown appropriately over the last week. One that still has a heartbeat. One wit