Part II
Days go by, then weeks. We are sad but at peace. Midwife says go for it and boy do we. Negative tests. I'm taking too many. I'm obsessing. Take a break. My birthday, three am. I have to pee. The tests are right there. Take one, it's been almost a week. I pee on it. The lightest line in the world shows up. Is this real? I want to cleverly surprise him. I need someone to tell me I'm not crazy. I wake him. He sees it, too. We hold each other.
The fear sets in. I call for blood work. I go in. I sit in the same chair. The same chair they've been taking my blood to watch the levels go down. The needle goes in, the blood comes out. The midwife seems doubtful. I wait. They call. My levels are there but low. We'll do another test next week to see if this is a new pregnancy or still the old one. What the hell is that? Oh, yeah. No problem. We'll just wait A WEEK! Which just happens to be Christmas!
My symptoms are coming. I'm sick. I wasn't last time. Does that matter? Probably not. A week goes by. She tells me my levels are excellent as if I had something to do with it. A moment of breathing followed by fear. I need to see a heartbeat. I can't think until I've seen a heartbeat. Of course there will be a heartbeat. But why would there be? I was just on the wrong side of the statistics. Why would this be different? Why would it go so smoothly this time? There has to be a heartbeat.
I'm not living. Just existing. Going through the motions. Wishing away time. It's not working. Time drags on. Will I ever know? Do I want to know? Am I ready if it's bad news? No, I'm not. Can I handle it? Probably not.
The time is here. Time to find out. I count down the hours. Three hours until my life changes. Two hours. Good or bad? I've made it. I walk back. Heart beating out of my chest. I lay down. Warm gel on my belly. Immediately I see my baby. Then, the most beautiful site. That's a heartbeat. A perfect, beautiful heartbeat. Is this real? Relief. I can breathe. I can live. I can enjoy this time. I can dream of my next miracle. Happiness overwhelms me. Our baby is healthy. We're having a baby. I can say it now. We're having a baby!
Part II
OK, crazy lady. You get five days. Five days of joy. Then the bleeding starts. Really?!?! Light at first then heavy. It's brown. Everything says that's normal. As long as it's not bright red. Now it's bright red. As long as there isn't any pain. Now there is pain. I am losing my baby. Again. This time I saw my baby. The heartbeat. It's not just a cluster.
I feel like I'm letting everyone down. Like I'm wasting everyone's time. I know the baby is not alright. Please be alright, baby. I promise to love you. To hold you. Forever. You will be safe with me. Ask your sister. We're not too bad. Please hold on. I understand if you cannot stay. I hope I provided you with a warm loving home. I hope you have not been scared. I hope you can feel the love we have for you.
I don't call anybody. I don't want to go in and not be able to see a heartbeat on the screen. I don't want anyone to tell me what I already know. I don't want to hear the words. I don't want to see the sadness in their faces. I have my first appointment in a little over a week. I'll just wait.
The bleeding slows down and then stops. Within a week. I don't know what this means. Is this good? Is this bad? I still feel extremely pregnant. The pain wasn't as bad as last time. It didn't last as long. I was sure when it was over last time. This time I know it isn't over. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to think. So I just wait. I kind of pretend the bleeding never happened. I have felt like I was pretending that I was pregnant this whole time. Why not a few more days?
Time for the appointment. I feel like a fraud. I shouldn't be here. Waiting for my appointment as if everything is fine. I feel like I'm pretending. The appointment is normal. Now it's time to listen to the heartbeat. It's still early, the midwife says. She searches. She searches and searches. She seems determined to find our baby's heartbeat. I feel my heartbeat throughout my body. That's all she can pick up. It's still early, she says again. I'm worried but try to act like I'm not. She says we can do an ultrasound. Bless her. I walk into the room again. This place has been good and bad. What will it be today? I can see the baby but the midwife is searching. Searching. Searching. Squinting. Finally, she smiles. She points to the little flutter. Then the baby moves. It jumps around. It waves its little arms. That's my baby. Growing just fine. Moving around and waving at us. This is real. I deserve to be here. I think everything's going to be OK. We're going to be OK. Our baby's going to be OK. Our baby's going to be.
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