Going backward

The NT scan was yesterday. In the words of the doctor, “sonographically, everything looks fine.” The results of the scan analysis, combined with the blood work, should come back by the end of this week. The baby looked good, moving around a lot, giving all sorts of trouble to the doctor who tried to take measurements. It is amazing what a difference six weeks make—a little bean then and a lot more like a real person now.

I know this is ridiculous and pathetic and why the hell can’t I just be positive, but every time I see the image of the baby on that grainy grey screen, I am surprised to see a heartbeat. I know I am not unique in feeling this way—many bloggers who are pregnant after IF or pregnancy loss talk about this feeling of detachment and always expecting the worst. But it bothers me because, well, I feel like I don’t really have much feelings for this baby. I feel horrible saying this because I wanted a baby so badly and I really want this pregnancy to work out. But here I am, with a beautiful, growing person in my belly—and I am not in love with it.

After yesterday’s scan and because the end of the first trimester is near, I was thinking that it is time to come out to friends and colleagues about the pregnancy (although I am sure my protruding gut has caused at least some speculation). Different announcements kept running through my mind.

We are having a baby...

Child is going to be a big brother...

We are having our second one...

And that’s where my mind stopped dead in its tracks. Our second one? No, this is our third. (or fourth, although I don’t think much about that very short-lived chemical years ago…). And I think for the first time, I realized that my overall lack of excitement about this pregnancy is not only for self-preservation. It is also because deep down I feel guilty for being happy about this new life while I am still grieving the loss of another life. It seems unfair to that baby, the baby we lost, the baby that could have been.

How do I let go of that guilt? How do I start living in the now—and not then?

Grief

Over the weekend, I got worried e-mails from both of my parents (they are divorced) asking about how we’ve been affected by the nasty weather that’s been hitting this part of the country. To be honest, it has affected me quite minimally, other than the cabin fever one experiences when stuck indoors with an energetic three-year-old for an entire weekend and being generally pissed at the crashing temps that went from 82 degrees to 32 degrees in 72 hours, resulting in two inches of snow Easter weekend, then back up to 60s during the week and down to 40 with pouring rain and 60 mile an hour winds on the weekend. But then on Monday, local schools (including Child’s preschool) closed three hours early because of the weather, and as I was leaving work to pick him up, I was composing a post about how shitty this spring has been weather-wise and how unfair it is because spring and fall are the only tolerable seasons in this city while winter and summer just plain suck.

In an effort to get the forecast, I turned on the radio. And then I heard about Virginia Tech. And everything else became insignificant.

I know there is horrible injustice happening daily in many parts of the world. But this hit so close to home for me, literally and figuratively. Virginia Tech is just a few hours from where I live. My friend’s family just got back home to Blacksburg from their daughter’s wedding when this happened. Husband’s boss’s niece is in stable condition at a local hospital, recovering from three gun wounds. I am sure I will hear more stories from friends and colleagues as more of them receive and share news from their loved ones.

In reading Sarah’s post last week, I thought of my uncle’s funeral where my grandma said that a parent should never have to bury a child, no matter how old. I can’t wrap my mind around what happened at VA Tech. I can’t even begin to analyze it. I simply hurt so much for these people, the parents who have to bury their children.

Scared (updated again)

Over the last 24 hours, my symptoms appear to be fading. I have been so very miserable for a month, but yesterday, I started to feel better. Suddenly, I had an appetite. Food began to taste good. And when I ate, I did not get sick 10 minutes later. I even had a piece of cheesecake that I made for Easter—something that I knew would set me over the edge—but it didn’t. I still had minor bouts of nausea throughout the day, but they were so very minor compared to the misery of the last four weeks. This morning, I was able to get out of bed without eating something first. And I didn’t throw up. Actually, I spent almost an hour without eating, and yet I didn’t feel like I was going to collapse.

For the first time in over a month, I took my morning temp. 97.6. Still above my 97.3 coverline, but below 98.1, my last reading in early March.

10 weeks and 3 days. I should not be feeling better yet; it is too early to lose the symptoms. I keep telling myself that maybe I just had a good day yesterday. Maybe this is just a fluke.

This weekend, I passed the point when the last pregnancy went to hell. I don’t want to go down that road again, even though I know there is nothing I can do to avoid it if that's where it's headed.

I am so scared.

**Update: Spoke to the midwife at my OB/GYN practice (some day, I will write a glowing post about how much I love the collaborative nature of my practice where doctors practice alongside midwives and what an amazing difference that makes for me). She said what I expected her to say: it could be nothing or it could be something. I have an appointment on Friday morning. Of course, being the idiot that I am, I asked, "I already have an appointment for Monday--should I just wait until then?" And being a sweet and smart woman that she is, she said, "Do you want to go on worrying over the weekend?" Thank you, Gina, for providing the voice of reason.

**Friday update: We’ve got a beautiful heartbeat. 165. Didn’t even need to pull out a sonogram machine—we heard the heartbeat clearly through Doppler, despite my funky inverted uterus. Our chances of miscarriage just went down from 20% to 3%. Woo-hoo! Symptoms also have returned yesterday, although not quite with the same intensity, for which I am grateful. This pregnancy may actually work out. Next stop: nuchal translucency u/s on April 23. Thank you guys so much for your support and prayers.