It finally happened. I had a freak-out. Took me nearly 10 weeks this time, which is pretty impressive.
Yesterday we had our first OB visit. I'd met with the OB nurse coordinator a couple weeks ago to do a bunch of preliminary stuff, including bloodwork. Yesterday, we had our appointment with Dr. Locke. A lot of good conversation, especially about the complications with Sam's birth (but my perfect health for the entire pregnancy before that!). We talked through our IVF and FET cycles, and about plans and considerations for this pregnancy (repeat c-section, intentions to breastfeed, weight goals, nutrition goals, etc.) Once again, I will affirm just how much we love Dr. Locke!
We did a basic physical exam, and again, everything seems healthy and fine. Uterus is measuring in the 8-9 week range, which Dr. Locke considers spot-on (except that I'm close to 10 weeks, so I don't know what to do with that). The only bugger was that we couldn't pick up a heartbeat on the doppler yesterday. Before he tried, he warned us that the doppler isn't reliable until 12 weeks, and that it usually can't pick anything up until at least 10 weeks. But he wanted to try anyway (and we wanted him to try!). Sam was an overachiever (or we just got lucky), and we caught his heartbeat on the doppler midway through 9 weeks, so I had high hopes for our little Owlet. But no dice.
Now. There is no reason to panic or to freak out or to worry. If the doppler isn't reliable until 12 weeks, and if it is unusual to hear anything before 10 weeks, then so be it. We had an ultrasound at 6 weeks and saw a heartbeat, so you'd think that would be sufficient, right? Ha.
Of course, despite my attempts to be sensible and rational, I am yet incapable of thinking through the worst case scenario. I find myself piecing together a convincing "the baby has stopped growing" narrative. My uterus is measuring a week smaller than I would have expected. I haven't felt nearly as queasy or fatigued as I did a couple weeks ago. I don't feel as bloated today as I did a week ago. Yeah. I can totally construct a narrative where we have lost this baby and the lack of a heartbeat yesterday meant that there isn't a heartbeat.
I know this is crazy talk. And I know that speculation does me no good. I have no reason to believe that things have gone wrong. For every loss narrative that I can construct, I can also construct a parallel "everything is fine" narrative. I'm not as queasy because I'm getting close to the end of the first trimester, when nausea often dissipates. I don't feel as bloated because I recommitted myself to drinking tons and tons of water this week. The 8-9 week estimate on my uterus size is simply that: an estimate, based on a doctor squeezing my belly. 9 weeks 5 days is too early to expect to hear a heartbeat on a doppler. I weigh 10 pounds more than I did with Sam, so there's more "padding" on my belly, which makes finding a HB more difficult.
Bah.
It takes energy to hold these competing narratives in my head. More energy than I want to expend.
The wonderful, kind, saving grace of yesterday is that Dr. Locke knows that I am a loss mama. He is sensitive to the feelings of anxiety and fear. Even without telling him that I was feeling disappointed and scared, he was sensitive to it, and asked me if it would be helpful if he could squeeze me in next week between appointments for a quick doppler check, to see if we could pick up a heartbeat. So Tuesday noontime we try again.
I'm trying to figure out what to do if we don't find one then, either. Because 10 weeks is still early. And it could still just be a fluke. And he might simply offer another doppler check in another week. But I'm wondering if I have it in me to be that patient, and if we don't hear something on Tuesday, to ask about the possibility of a reassurance ultrasound.
We will see. Maybe Owlet will be obvious and easy to find next week, and we'll hear that little galloping heartbeat right away!
I'm trying so hard, in the meantime, to stay grounded. I find myself feeling disappointed and sad more than scared at this moment. A little bit like I just want to hide under a table until Tuesday and not have to deal with anybody or anything. Patience is the hardest part of all of this...
Yesterday we had our first OB visit. I'd met with the OB nurse coordinator a couple weeks ago to do a bunch of preliminary stuff, including bloodwork. Yesterday, we had our appointment with Dr. Locke. A lot of good conversation, especially about the complications with Sam's birth (but my perfect health for the entire pregnancy before that!). We talked through our IVF and FET cycles, and about plans and considerations for this pregnancy (repeat c-section, intentions to breastfeed, weight goals, nutrition goals, etc.) Once again, I will affirm just how much we love Dr. Locke!
We did a basic physical exam, and again, everything seems healthy and fine. Uterus is measuring in the 8-9 week range, which Dr. Locke considers spot-on (except that I'm close to 10 weeks, so I don't know what to do with that). The only bugger was that we couldn't pick up a heartbeat on the doppler yesterday. Before he tried, he warned us that the doppler isn't reliable until 12 weeks, and that it usually can't pick anything up until at least 10 weeks. But he wanted to try anyway (and we wanted him to try!). Sam was an overachiever (or we just got lucky), and we caught his heartbeat on the doppler midway through 9 weeks, so I had high hopes for our little Owlet. But no dice.
Now. There is no reason to panic or to freak out or to worry. If the doppler isn't reliable until 12 weeks, and if it is unusual to hear anything before 10 weeks, then so be it. We had an ultrasound at 6 weeks and saw a heartbeat, so you'd think that would be sufficient, right? Ha.
Of course, despite my attempts to be sensible and rational, I am yet incapable of thinking through the worst case scenario. I find myself piecing together a convincing "the baby has stopped growing" narrative. My uterus is measuring a week smaller than I would have expected. I haven't felt nearly as queasy or fatigued as I did a couple weeks ago. I don't feel as bloated today as I did a week ago. Yeah. I can totally construct a narrative where we have lost this baby and the lack of a heartbeat yesterday meant that there isn't a heartbeat.
I know this is crazy talk. And I know that speculation does me no good. I have no reason to believe that things have gone wrong. For every loss narrative that I can construct, I can also construct a parallel "everything is fine" narrative. I'm not as queasy because I'm getting close to the end of the first trimester, when nausea often dissipates. I don't feel as bloated because I recommitted myself to drinking tons and tons of water this week. The 8-9 week estimate on my uterus size is simply that: an estimate, based on a doctor squeezing my belly. 9 weeks 5 days is too early to expect to hear a heartbeat on a doppler. I weigh 10 pounds more than I did with Sam, so there's more "padding" on my belly, which makes finding a HB more difficult.
Bah.
It takes energy to hold these competing narratives in my head. More energy than I want to expend.
The wonderful, kind, saving grace of yesterday is that Dr. Locke knows that I am a loss mama. He is sensitive to the feelings of anxiety and fear. Even without telling him that I was feeling disappointed and scared, he was sensitive to it, and asked me if it would be helpful if he could squeeze me in next week between appointments for a quick doppler check, to see if we could pick up a heartbeat. So Tuesday noontime we try again.
I'm trying to figure out what to do if we don't find one then, either. Because 10 weeks is still early. And it could still just be a fluke. And he might simply offer another doppler check in another week. But I'm wondering if I have it in me to be that patient, and if we don't hear something on Tuesday, to ask about the possibility of a reassurance ultrasound.
We will see. Maybe Owlet will be obvious and easy to find next week, and we'll hear that little galloping heartbeat right away!
I'm trying so hard, in the meantime, to stay grounded. I find myself feeling disappointed and sad more than scared at this moment. A little bit like I just want to hide under a table until Tuesday and not have to deal with anybody or anything. Patience is the hardest part of all of this...
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