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 don't want their sympathy, but because I feel bad that they feel bad.
After the long discussion of health history, etc., time for the physical exam. Dr. Locke is a family practice/OB doctor, and the first part of the exam felt just like a back-to-school physical. Checked my eyes and ears and nose and throat, and checked my reflexes (I always giggle when they do that), and listened to my heart and lungs.
Then time to ditch the clothes and don a very breezy gown for the less-fun parts of the exam. Except that these are the exact parts of the exam that would (hopefully) tell me whether there is still a baby in there who is alive and growing.
He got out the doppler, but let us know that it was uncommon to be able to hear the baby's heartbeat with it this early. And so he put it on my belly, and I heard the whooshing of my own heartbeat, and I didn't hear much else, and even though I thought I'd freak out, I really was pretty at peace with the prospect of not being able to confirm the baby's heartbeat.
But THEN.
He got very quiet, and I said something about hearing my own heartbeat, and then he said, "But listen in the background! I think we can hear the baby's heartbeat!"
And I listened quietly, and held my breath, and back behind the slow, steady "whoosh, whoosh" of my own heartbeat, I heard a faint but fast knocking sound. Whoa. He counted my heart rate and the baby's, and even though nothing was as pronounced as it will be in later appointments, he figured that the baby's heart rate was about 172. And he was wide-eyed and a little giddy about having heard what seems to be the heartbeat.
I told him that hearing the heartbeat was the biggest relief, and that I didn't care what else he had to do to me, I was happy.
I mean, ok, the following pelvic exam was pretty darn uncomfy (because that's just the way they are!), so maybe I spoke a little too soon. ;) But everything seemed good, and he said that my uterus feels right on target for an 8-10 week size range.
After the physical, I got dressed, and then we met for more conversation. Lots of talk about nutrition and exercise and health, and some about the optional screenings and tests we could do as the pregnancy progresses. But the most helpful thing was when he talked about loss.
He said that the risk of miscarriage drops significantly after 10 weeks and hearing a heartbeat, and since I'm halfway through week 9 and we already heard a heartbeat, he would consider me there. Which means, he told me, that I am free to get out of my big boat of anxiety about miscarriages, and step into a smaller boat of anxiety...because things can still go wrong in the pregnancy...or things could go wrong at birth...or things could go wrong during the toddler years...or during the teenage years...
Basically, the point is that we are moving past the scariest time of the pregnancy into a new time of uncertainty, which will last all the way through our years as parents. And so while there will always be things to worry about, I can try to make peace and cross over from BIG anxiety to REGULAR anxiety (because there'll never now be a time of NO anxiety).
Not sure how well I put that on paper here, but trust me. It was a very sweet, very helpful conversation.
Which is not to say that I'm not going to worry - LOTS - in the four weeks until my next appointment. But it was a good appointment, and I can walk away happy, and as confident as possible that we are indeed still pregnant, and that there is still a living little hedgehog inside of me.
I celebrated by doing some test-knitting for a gorgeous baby blanket that I've had my eye on for quite a while. And doing a little internet "window-shopping" for baby and nursery stuff. (Though that got overwhelming pretty quickly, because I have no idea what we'll actually need, and I don't yet feel confident enough to start researching lists and registry suggestions.)
So we've crossed nine weeks, and are barreling toward ten weeks, and for all intents and purposes, I am, indeed, pregnant. And I feel pretty darn great, aside from crazy fatigue, and even though I could get all worked up about that, for tonight, maybe I'll just count my blessings. And then eat a fudgesicle. And then go to bed.
One of these days it will all start to seem real...right?
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 don't want their sympathy, but because I feel bad that they feel bad.
After the long discussion of health history, etc., time for the physical exam. Dr. Locke is a family practice/OB doctor, and the first part of the exam felt just like a back-to-school physical. Checked my eyes and ears and nose and throat, and checked my reflexes (I always giggle when they do that), and listened to my heart and lungs.
Then time to ditch the clothes and don a very breezy gown for the less-fun parts of the exam. Except that these are the exact parts of the exam that would (hopefully) tell me whether there is still a baby in there who is alive and growing.
He got out the doppler, but let us know that it was uncommon to be able to hear the baby's heartbeat with it this early. And so he put it on my belly, and I heard the whooshing of my own heartbeat, and I didn't hear much else, and even though I thought I'd freak out, I really was pretty at peace with the prospect of not being able to confirm the baby's heartbeat.
But THEN.
He got very quiet, and I said something about hearing my own heartbeat, and then he said, "But listen in the background! I think we can hear the baby's heartbeat!"
And I listened quietly, and held my breath, and back behind the slow, steady "whoosh, whoosh" of my own heartbeat, I heard a faint but fast knocking sound. Whoa. He counted my heart rate and the baby's, and even though nothing was as pronounced as it will be in later appointments, he figured that the baby's heart rate was about 172. And he was wide-eyed and a little giddy about having heard what seems to be the heartbeat.
I told him that hearing the heartbeat was the biggest relief, and that I didn't care what else he had to do to me, I was happy.
I mean, ok, the following pelvic exam was pretty darn uncomfy (because that's just the way they are!), so maybe I spoke a little too soon. ;) But everything seemed good, and he said that my uterus feels right on target for an 8-10 week size range.
After the physical, I got dressed, and then we met for more conversation. Lots of talk about nutrition and exercise and health, and some about the optional screenings and tests we could do as the pregnancy progresses. But the most helpful thing was when he talked about loss.
He said that the risk of miscarriage drops significantly after 10 weeks and hearing a heartbeat, and since I'm halfway through week 9 and we already heard a heartbeat, he would consider me there. Which means, he told me, that I am free to get out of my big boat of anxiety about miscarriages, and step into a smaller boat of anxiety...because things can still go wrong in the pregnancy...or things could go wrong at birth...or things could go wrong during the toddler years...or during the teenage years...
Basically, the point is that we are moving past the scariest time of the pregnancy into a new time of uncertainty, which will last all the way through our years as parents. And so while there will always be things to worry about, I can try to make peace and cross over from BIG anxiety to REGULAR anxiety (because there'll never now be a time of NO anxiety).
Not sure how well I put that on paper here, but trust me. It was a very sweet, very helpful conversation.
Which is not to say that I'm not going to worry - LOTS - in the four weeks until my next appointment. But it was a good appointment, and I can walk away happy, and as confident as possible that we are indeed still pregnant, and that there is still a living little hedgehog inside of me.
I celebrated by doing some test-knitting for a gorgeous baby blanket that I've had my eye on for quite a while. And doing a little internet "window-shopping" for baby and nursery stuff. (Though that got overwhelming pretty quickly, because I have no idea what we'll actually need, and I don't yet feel confident enough to start researching lists and registry suggestions.)
So we've crossed nine weeks, and are barreling toward ten weeks, and for all intents and purposes, I am, indeed, pregnant. And I feel pretty darn great, aside from crazy fatigue, and even though I could get all worked up about that, for tonight, maybe I'll just count my blessings. And then eat a fudgesicle. And then go to bed.
One of these days it will all start to seem real...right?
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