The last 24 hours before our first scan (at 7 weeks) were the hardest. I barely slept all night, even though I was tired. I’ve realised that my emotions definitely affect my ability to sleep, and when I’m anxious (as I was before egg collection), I’m almost unable to sleep through the night. I must have got up and gone to the bathroom at least five times. Dog was fidgety too and got up during the night, and proceeded to snore, so it was a very restless night!
Today was my penultimate day at work and I’d promised all the people who couldn’t be there on my last day that I would provide baked goods on both days. Why I make these promises I don’t know. I think it’s because I feel a need to overcompensate for the fact that I’m not having leaving drinks. (Honestly I’m quite relieved by this – I’m too old for that kind of popularity contest. Although judging by people who asked, maybe I’d have done quite well.) At any rate, I couldn’t drink so had to do something else, and I’m sort of known for my baking so it seemed a good way to kill two birds with one stone.
So yesterday I made 24 brownies, 18 cupcakes, 2 vanilla sponge cakes and a chocolate truffle cake. Umm, perhaps I went a bit overboard. I had all these ideas to snazz it up but when it came down to it, the Thursday cakes weren’t the official ones and I couldn’t be bothered so I just did some quick stuff, with swirls and not too much decoration.
Also yesterday I went and collected my jeans from M&S. Now I have a confession: I split my last pair of jeans! I know! I’m definitely getting fat so no amount of “You’re not fat” is going to help. They were some cheap boyfriend jeans I got after the miscarriage last year when I was feeling fat and have somehow become my go to lounging jeans. Anyway, I decided to order two pairs to test, as I live quite close to M&S and they do decent (not too high quality but not Primark throwaway stuff) clothes that don’t cost the earth.
I ordered two pairs to try: a “my fat size” pair of boyfriend jeans and a pair of maternity jeans OMG. I figured I’ll take back one of the pairs once I know what we’re doing.
T was nice over the past few days and kept trying to tell me not to worry, but I was so worried. I have felt so on edge and I have this nervous habit of grinding my teeth (even when I’m awake, just jaw clenching) and it gives me a pain in my temples. I’ve had this pretty much the entire past two weeks.
I tried not to think about things. To distract myself. It’s hard though. It was pretty much all I thought about. Always there in the background. I kept wondering if things were symptoms or psychological. I’ve definitely had moments of nausea and weird tastes and smells and food cravings / fads / aversions but every time I get them, I think it’s just wishful thinking or something.
T kept thinking positive and he speaks to the baby and about the baby using the nickname we have. So to him it’s real and just needed confirming. To me it’s more like an ever present monologue of fear, of not wanting to have another miscarriage, of being told something is wrong.
I stupidly decided to do a HPT yesterday, you know, because it was lying around and why not confirm I’m still pregnant. BAD IDEA. I didn’t do FMU (when it’s most concentrated) and I’m going to the bathroom at least once an hour nowadays (more than usual – I drink a lot of water normally and haven’t stopped) so that didn’t really help. Anyway the line was just pregnant, two lines, about the same clarity so then I was feeling bad. Even though I read online that HCG isn’t reliable at this point and anyway if I was going to have a miscarriage it wouldn’t show up on a test right now… Well really it didn’t help alleviate my fears. Shouldn’t have done that. I guess it’s still such a novelty to see a positive pregnancy test!
So today I schlepped into work early with a shedload of cakes (day 1 of my leaving cakes) and then headed for the clinic after. T turned up shortly after I did and we waited… and waited… and waited. Wowsers, it’s like a special kind of torture.
Eventually about a half hour after our appointment was due, we were called in for the ultrasound. It was with a doctor who was quite businesslike (she said “I’m not going to say anything for the first part and then I’ll turn the screen around so you can see it”) plus the sonographer who’s actually very nice but who had the unfortunate association with being the one who delivered me the bad news last time.
I went behind the curtain and T had to sit outside. Derobed. I always feel a bit vulnerable unclothed below the waist, lying on a bed with my legs spread! The doc started the ultrasound. OMG it was awful… When she said she wasn’t going to say anything, she really meant it. Digging around for what felt like an eternity. Then kept trying to find my ovaries (????) and then after some horrendous amount of time with me staring at the ceiling and thinking the worst (and T said the same, sitting outside the curtain), she asked if the sonographer could have a look.
The sonographer eventually found my ovaries. Had to press down each time. I was wondering if it was ectopic or something.
And then she said to T, do you want to come in? And he came in.
And then… She turned the screen round.
So now the news you’ve all been waiting for: I guess I’m taking back the boyfriend jeans!
Our baby was there. Heart beating. 8.6mm, measuring 6 weeks 6 days. Alive! They said that s/he had a strong heartbeat! There was a picture but it’s not very clear and it was more visible on screen.
I burst into tears. All the pent up emotion and fear came out. T kept kissing me and telling me he knew it would be fine! The sonographer was really nice as she remembered last time and she kept telling me it was different this time.
I’m currently 7 weeks 1 day and the nurse said afterwards not to worry because at those measurements (tiny) they grow at different rates. As a comparison – last time when I had my first scan it was more like 6 weeks and I got called back the following week at 7 weeks and the baby was only 5mm both times.
They discharged us to the GP! It’s unbelievable. Like a normal pregnancy! Though it’s anything but normal.
I am still scared although I’m slightly reassured (which T is glad about!). I know there is still a risk of miscarriage before 12 weeks and a reduced one after that. But I keep telling myself it’s one more hurdle we have jumped. Also I have my 8 week follow up with Dr S next week so at least that’s an extra appointment I’ll have, which will hopefully show some development (and his scanners are better than the NHS ones).
So… What does this mean?
No leaving drinks! I still need to stick to the acting like I’m pregnant (I’m pregnant!) but not telling anyone thing.
Apart from, I’m going to have to tell my girlfriends tomorrow. Because of the school reunion thing I referenced in my previous post, and the fact that I’m not drinking. And anyway it will be nice to be able to tell someone.
In a quirk of fate, my sister had her follow up with Dr S today. I told her and she was so happy for me. We had a nice text conversation about it. I even said that I knew it might be hard for her but she said she was happy for me and also it’s sort of encouraging as she’s seeing Dr S too. She got her results and they were different to mine – she actually isn’t borderline like I am, which is sort of reassuring in a way as at least it means everyone gets treated differently! They had a recommendation and are off on holiday so considering it, but they’re likely going to go ahead with a private cycle and Dr S immune protocol. If it works for them, and we both make it to term, it would be the best sisterly bonding experience ever!
Next hurdle: 12 week scan with the NHS. I just need to try and get to there. I have my additional Dr S 8 week scan next week too, and intralipids and I keep on with the meds until 12 weeks too (please please make it that far!).
My last day at work tomorrow. I have two cakes to ice tonight. And girls weekend this weekend.