The Week That Wasn't

Or something like that.

On Monday I went for my ultrasound. I invited my mother to go too, because I thought she'd like to see the heartbeat - it's such a cool experience, and they didn't do ultrasounds years ago when she was pregnant with me or my sister.

So I picked her up at her house and off we went to the Radiologist.

This may sound strange, but I love my radiologist. I have been to him quite a few times over the past couple of years, and he has given me both good news and bad, and I just like his personality, his kindness and compassion, and his encouragement to keep trying. He told me (before I had my son) that his wife had been pregnant 6 times and they had 3 children. So. It happens. It helped. And he seemed to be just as happy when he showed me my son's little 6 week old heartbeat for the first time as my husband and I were to see it.

So anyway, in we went. And, after numberous tries, both externally and internally, he had to tell me what I had guessed right away. No heartbeat. He said it appeared to be what's called a "blighted ovum," which is what happens when the egg is fertilized and starts forming a yolk sac, but then never continues to grow and develop. It was just a little blobby lump on the inside of my uterus. My big empty uterus. My approximately 6 weeks pregnant in size uterus.

I did not cry.

He also said that he wanted me to come in for another ultrasound in about 5-7 days, and that one would be the diagnostic visit, because, he said, in rare instances, the second time he looks, the heartbeat is there, and the embryo was just hiding or something. He said not to be hopeful, but...

So I made an appointment to come in on Friday (yesterday, as I write this), for that next ultrasound.

I did not cry.

As we walked down the hall from his office, my mom put her arm around my shoulder, and I just said "Don't do that" in a flat, emotionless voice. And she just said "I understand" and took her arm away.

I thank her for that.

I needed to be flat, emotionless, and tough. I drove her home, and my dad came out to ask how it went, and in my flat, emotionless voice I said "mom can tell you" and he understood and looked concerned but did not pat my hand or press me for details.

I thank him for that.

I drove back to work, jaw set, determined to be flat, emotionless, tough and strong. And I was. I emailed my sister to tell her, and she commiserated, and that helped too.

And I thank her for listening to me be angry via email.

And I didn't cry.

I didn't call my husband when I got back to work. I knew my voice would break if I had to say anything. He called me when he was on his way to teach his college students, and I told him, managing to keep my flat, emotionless voice in charge of things.

And when I picked up Alex at daycare, I hugged him tightly.

Work this week has been tense, unhappy, unpleasant...just that feeling of waiting for the ax to fall and wondering if your neck would be next. Still having layoffs. Apparently they get rid of a couple people, then do the math and see how much of an affect that will have on the bottom line. If it's not enough, they get rid of a few more. So who knows when they'll be happy.

It's hard to feel positive about your job at a time like that. And I wasn't feeling happy anyway. But I did my best to keep my jaw set and my voice flat and emotionless, and not to let any of it get to me.

It didn't, exactly. But I noticed this week that I was uncharacteristically distracted, forgetful, and inefficient. My desk just felt like a mess and I didn't care enough to clean it up.

Every day my mother asked me, via email, how I was feeling. Tuesday I felt like hitting. Anything. People, things...just to lash out. Wednesday or Thursday I told her I felt like my name was Isabel.

I started feeling my wall breaking, crumbling, on Thursday and Friday morning. All I kept thinking was how it wasn't fair. I know - life's not fair. So I was acknowledging the fact, I suppose, and feeling sorry for myself. And feeling guilty for that, because I am blessed to have my one healthy son. Some people don't even get that.

I was also miserable at the thought of having my insides scraped out another time. I just didn't want to have to go through that again. I considered just letting nature take charge and when it was time to get rid of this failed pregnancy, then I'd let my body handle it.

But meanwhile, I'm having all these pregnancy symptoms - which the radiologist had said was normal, as my body hadn't concluded that there was nothing to feel pregnant about. So until it figured that out, I was going to be alternately starving - no, ravenous - and queasy, and my hair would continue to come out in great quantities. I was becoming a miserable, fat, bald chick for no good reason.

Bill went to the ultrasound appointment with me on Friday. He met me there after work about 5 minutes before we were called in. I went in and changed into my three-armed hospital gown and hopped up onto the bed or bench or table or whatever it is, stuck my feet in the stirrups (back in the saddle again, heh heh) and he draped me and handed me the "probe" (yes, that's pleasant sounding, isn't it?) and away we went. I watched the monitor and there it was, my big black empty uterus. He wiggled the probe around, checking every angle, I guess, and I was about to say "It's empty" in my flat, toneless voice, when the radiologist spoke instead.

And he said "Son of a gun, there it is!" And there it was. A little tiny grey thing within the cavernous black space...and there, visible as a part of that tiny little grey thing, was a flickering bit - and that was the heartbeat.

I said "Holy shit" and then apologized, and my dear, wonderful, happy radiologist told me I could say anything I wanted to say at that moment.

To say I was surprised is to say Everest is a molehill.

I just couldn't believe it. I had spent the whole week refusing to be hopeful, because I didn't want to be disappointed again. I just decided that this appointment would confirm Monday's diagnosis.

But it didn't. Oh my goodness.

Bill was in shock too, I think. I wanted to giggle. I wanted to spin around - like Julie Andrews at the beginning of "The Sound of Music" - only faster.

We walked out of there in a daze. But cautious.

It is still early yet. Oh - speaking of that, I was told I was about 6 weeks along, and the estimated due date is May 12, 2004.

So - 6 weeks. Yes, that's early. Anything can happen, at any time. So I am cautious. But there was a heartbeat. We saw the flicker of it. And we heard it too - what a beautiful sound. And we have the little printout pictures from the ultrasound machine. The first pictures of our next child.

So keep your fingers crossed.

Tomorrow

I'm scheduled for an ultrasound at 10:30 tomorrow morning. I was going to go by myself - it's too early in the school year for Bill to take a day off, and I can pretty much handle whatever the news might be.

But then this morning, after a quick visit to my sister's house (for coffee, bagels, and a haircut for my son) and another stop at my parents' house (who graciously watched my son while I ran to the grocery store), I suddenly thought, on my drive home, that I should invite my mom to the ultrasound.

So I just called her and did that. I thought she might like to see the little person, see and hear the heartbeat.

I'm not considering that there won't be a heartbeat.

I know it's certainly possible, having had that experience twice, but I feel pregnant. Very much so. I can't explain it. But I have a good feeling about this one.

Yes, it's tempered by the "what if" factor. But. No point in being miserable unless there's a definite reason to be. So I'm expecting a heartbeat.

Also curious to find out about how far along this one is. It's kind of uncertain, so the ultrasound will help fine tune that part.

Can't wait, actually.

Best part is I don't need a full bladder for it.

The first time I had one of these I was told to drink a liter or so of water an hour before the appointment. No problem.

Then Bill and I drove down to the radiologist's office. In Narragansett. In the summer (it was July). And got stuck in beach traffic. Miles and miles of beach traffic. I was practically upside down in the car, legs crossed and just praying that we wouldn't hit any bumps in the road because my bladder was uncomfortable, to say the least. Oh it was horrible.

And then, waiting (waiting!! for my turn, I begged the receptionist to let me use the restroom before I ruined the carpet. She said I could go "a little" - ?????? Which I did. Which was even worse than the car ride.

And then that was all capped with the bad news anyway, so the entire full-to-bursting bladder experience was a rather cruel joke on Someone's part.

So, whatever the outcome tomorrow, at least I don't have to feel like an over-filled water balloon first.



Yes, I'm still keeping my fingers crossed.