…is that of your baby’s heartbeat.
And I heard it today.
Pumpkin has a healthy heart rate of 129 and is measuring 2 days ahead at 7w2d.
What seemed like an unreachable impossibility has become real, and we are over the moon. We know that we’re not out of the woods yet, and my worries have not ceased. But today is a good day and we will celebrate it.
There is a perfectly round amniotic sac, a fetal pole and a flickering heartbeat in my uterus.
When the nurse said that today’s appointment would include an ultrasound I assumed it would be the high-tech, clear transvaginal ultrasound. Instead, the doctor used the little portable machine to do an abdominal scan. It was grainy, and not very clear but he was able to show us the sac, and the little blob that was our baby. He said that he was able to see what he was sure was the flicker of a heartbeat, but at that point I was crying so hard that I couldn’t see it even when he tried to show it to us.
The doctor did order a better ultrasound tomorrow. Orpheus won’t be able to come with me tomorrow due to work. I am hoping for a good, clear picture of our little one and to hear/see a heartbeat. I’m nervous for tomorrow, but I am trying to focus on the good news we got today.
Today I am pregnant, I love my baby, and my baby has a heartbeat.
Today Sham, our last lost, would have been due. Today I should have a newborn in my arms. Instead I am still without a take home baby. My house is empty, and too quiet.
Tomorrow is my first appointment and u/s for this pregnancy. I am scared out of my mind. It seems impossible to see a heartbeat tomorrow. It seems impossible that this will be a take home baby,
How do people do it? How do they get pregnant and have an uneventful 9 months and actually bring a baby home? I can’t even imagine it.
I hope that this baby is ok. I hope that this baby will come home with us in October. But I cannot get happy, or excited about this pregnancy. And that makes me even more upset. I want to be happy. I want to be excited. The fact that I’m not scares me too; is it PGAL brain? Or is it instinct that something is wrong?
We love October. We love Halloween. Having an October baby is perfect, it’s a dream come true. But it’s also almost too good to be true.
Today I am missing my baby. Tomorrow hopefully will bring good news and happiness.
One year ago today we lost Jelly Belly. Oprh was at work out of town on an emergency call. He didn’t get home until close to midnight that night, but when he came home he had a guitar with him. I had always wanted to learn guitar.
Today I got my first round of betas back: 30. I’m pregnant. I had a faint BFP yesterday morning, followed by the blood draw. I will go in for another draw tomorrow, the results of which I will get Friday.
Today I am pregnant and I love my baby. Today I will embrace Hope, because hope does not make bad things happen.
Lately on FB there has been an onslaught of adorable, tear-jerking videos/photos of ways wives have announced their pregnancy to their husband. These include in a photo booth and during a “normal” photo shoot. It was so incredible to have photos of the husband’s reaction. I wish I had that. I wish I could have that.
It breaks my heart that that will not be how I announce a pregnancy to Orpheus. After so many years, and so many losses, we test together. And I like testing together, because I value having his support. We will not go back to not testing together, I know that. And so if we ever get our rainbow my husband will find out the same way I do: starting at a stick that I peed on. How fucking exciting and romantic. I hate it. I wish we weren’t here. I hate how much TTCAL has taken from us, including this.
Our first cycle TTC was a bust.
No shit, right? The odds of getting pregnant our first cycle were slim to none.
Our timing was perfect: from O-3 to O+1. Every day. I had so, so, so many symptoms. So many dreams. I was so sure. I was so fucking sure that I was pregnant. And I kept going down the rabbit hole of calculating the due date, and when we would be able to announce (St. Patrick’s Day, I even had a great idea for it).
And yesterday was a temp drop and AF. I was beyond devastated. More so than I should have been. I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up, I shouldn’t have been looking at things like I was already pregnant when I didn’t know if I was. How stupid of me, I knew better.
So now I’m at the bottom of the rabbit hole that is TTC, trying to get up the nerve to go back at it again. One cycle isn’t a big deal. But when you add up how long we have been trying, it sucks.
5 years is a long time to want something so badly and not have it yet.
I have a few different types of crafts that I like to do. One is painted glass that looks like stained glass. (I’m bugging Hubs to let me get into actual stained glass, too).
In October I did this on our front window facing the road. After I did it I was a little worried that it was too much, putting this out there for the world to see. Some days I feel like it’s time to take it down, but then there are days where I pull into the driveway that the light hits the shimmery background just right and it makes my heart soar.
Today I had what will potentially be my last blood draw. I will call in the morning, and if my HCG is still negative Orph and I will burn the bench. Just in time, too, I should ovulate early next week.
Sometimes the window seems to mock me, sometimes it is what keeps me going. I know that putting something like this out in the open isn’t for everyone, and I am sure that there are those in the neighborhood who judge me for it, but for now I think it will stay. I can’t shake this idea that we can use the window in some way in a future pregnancy announcement, or the idea of a picture of us with our baby in front of this window. I know it’s too soon to think like that, and I worry that I’m going to jinx us.
So I was trying to find humerus things about TTC. Except it’s all about infertility. And I’m not infertile. I have repeat pregnancy losses, which is not actually a diagnosis, it’s a “we don’t know what the fuck is happening. And we can’t help you. So keep getting pregnant and pray like hell to a deity you’re not even sure exists that this time will be different. Because we won’t offer you any fertility treatments.”
And then I found this. Que ugly cry.
We are so close to burning the bench. We are so close to getting to TTC again. We’re so close to what we want.
So why am I anxious?
I had 6 months. In that time I was supposed to loose weight. I haven’t. We were supposed to organize and clean the house. We haven’t. Things were supposed to be different by the time we were ready to try again. But they aren’t.
I’m not willing to wait longer to TTC. Orph isn’t willing to wait either. I am just pissed at myself that I didn’t do what I had wanted to do. I promised myself I would do. And we’re almost out of time to do it.
But I can’t control what happened yesterday. I can control what I do today. So today I have started the 30 day plank challenge. I rejoined Planet Fitness and am going after work tonight. Better late than never.
Halloween is my favorite holiday.
Halloween is my husband’s favorite holiday.
Except this year.
This year there is not a single decoration. This year we each carved one pumpkin, which are still in the back of the car, out of obligation when we were invited to a carving party. This year neither of us give a flying fuck about Halloween.
We should have a living baby. We should be trick or treating with them tonight. We should have run around to find him/her the perfect costume, we should have helped them carve a pumpkin and proudly share it on FB. We shouldn’t be alone tonight watching all of the other happy families celebrate. This is not what this year was supposed to be like.
And it’s not just Halloween. It’s seeing the Thanksgiving and Christmas stuff come out. It’s knowing that the ex-neighbor is closer and closer to having her son. That they will get to celebrate his first Thanksgiving and first Christmas with him this year. And the knowing that it shouldn’t matter and getting pissed at myself for going down that road. It’s knowing that if I can’t get behind what was always my favorite holiday than Thanksgiving and Christmas are going to suck just as much. It’s the pressure that I am supposed to love Halloween and people were expecting me to having my decorations out, my intricate pumpkins, and that I don’t. The pressure that always comes with Christmas, to get decorations out, trim the tree, make it the most “wonderful time of the year” when all I want to do is crawl into a hole with a bottle of Jack Daniels and not come out.
I don’t give a flying fuck about anything. I feel like a ghost, just going through my day, going through the motions.
Looking For A Rainbow Through The Storms 