Tomorrow morning I go in for another ultrasound, and I'm very afraid that this will be the Ultrasound of Doom.
This is because my symptoms have stopped. I am no longer nauseated and tired, but fairly chipper, eating like a horse, and taking an interest in the cleanliness of my home. Those three attributes have never coincided with a pregnancy for me before.
To be fair, I'm not completely without a tiny bit of nausea, but I'm used to crippling attacks. My theory is that the baby died shortly after my Monday ultrasound, as that is when I started feeling mysteriously so much better. I saw the big single-chambered heart and then it gave up the ghost.
I hope I'm wrong. I really do, but as much as it's possible, I've reconciled myself to either outcome. Either the baby is still alive and I have two more long weeks of agonizing through until we're "safe," or the baby is not still alive and I will endeavor to end the remaining "pregnancy" as fast as possible, so I can start cycling and "throw the dice" another time.
It's just a terrible world to live in, checking myself for pregnancy symptoms that aren't cropping up. At least the spotting has slowed down, but it did that when the other baby died as well, so that does nothing to assuage my fears. As I type this, I am feeling increasingly nauseated, but that's just nerves. It is absolutely nothing like the real morning sickness I felt with my pregnancy with Chebbles and my December pregnancy.
I had a conversation with myself in the mirror this evening, which I found oddly comforting:
Me: So am I OK?
Me: Yes.
Me: Am I going to get everything I want in life? (meaning more children)
Me: No.
Me: Am I still going to lead a happy life?
Me: Yes.
It was nice to release myself from this harsh obligation -- the obligation to gestate another child into the world. If this is gestational Strike Three, then one wonders if Strike Four can't be far behind. Perhaps we've got some DNA wires permanently crossed now. We have a friend who suffered her fourth miscarriage last year, and now they're headed down the adoption route.
So anyway, it's not unheard of, to have a bazillion miscarriages for no apparent reason. And it's not unheard of to raise a happy, only child.
Tomorrow morning's ultrasound will reveal to me whether it's possible for me to be pregnant and not vomiting all of the time, or if this cessation of symptoms is always indicative of embryo loss for me. I was feeling pretty darn sick over the weekend and throughout Monday, but then I started feeling GREAT. Too great.
I talked to the nurse today, and she told me not to worry, that I was under no obligation to be sick every day of my pregnancy. But I know my body. When it's pregnant, it wants to vomit all of the time. It manufactures gallons of extra mucus and I spew it every morning. Sorry that's so gross, but that's precisely what my body does when it's pregnant.
And now? I'm happily cooking and cleaning and dancing around with Chebbles. So it doesn't feel like a pregnancy at all. It feels like an ended pregnancy, which blows. Don't get me wrong, it blows a LOT. But I feel a kind of (denial?) peace about the whole situation.
I haven't ever really believed in this pregnancy. Despite that heartbeat at Monday's ultrasound, I've kept the whole thing at bay. It's as though I've kept this tiny flicker of hope hidden amidst a massive ball of skepticism. And when the flame goes out, I won't be shocked as I've been before. I'll be mad and disappointed, but I won't be shocked. It will be sad, it will be another loss. It will be another calendar minefield, whereas certain dates will pop up forever, reminding me of another pregnancy that didn't result in a live child. But I feel more "in control" of this loss.
And as I write that, I think, why am I considering this loss a forgone conclusion? To protect myself. That's the only reason -- to protect myself from the massive waves of pain that will result. I'll still feel them, but I can at least remove the "shock" element from the situation.
This way, if by some miracle there is still a heartbeat (and if there is, I still have two more weeks of holding my breath before it's a "real" pregnancy), it will be a big, unexpected prize. And if there is no heartbeat, just a little floater in there, waiting for permission from his mama to leave her body, well I can be just as sad as I thought I would be, which is a lot.
