The night before we went to Florida, I went to Target to pick up some last minute travel supplies.  On the way home, I was overcome by nausea (I IMed Laura about this) more severe than ever.  I was so overwhelmed by sadness, I started to cry, and wanted to throw up.  Ridiculous, I thought, that’s crazy, everything is fine, there’s no bleeding. That’s when the paralyzing fear started.  I even use that phrase when I got back from Florida.  On the plane, I had my eyes closed, repeating in my head "I trust my body, I love my baby" over and over and over.  I knew then. I had to let it go, and I knew then.

This morning, I felt like my breasts had lost their soreness. Maybe it’s because I wore a bigger bra yesterday, I thought, but they looked less veiny… maybe because of the sunshine instead of gray rainy mornings we’ve had, that’s it.  I took a shower. I knew.

I went to school, and was supposed to leave at 11:30, but by 9, I couldn’t even breathe.  I was going to the bathroom, literally, every fifteen minutes to just ‘check,’ but nothing was there.  I left early, before 11, and came home and was so nauseous with fear, I had diarrhea. I knew.

I picked up Dave, heart in my throat, to go to lunch.  We talked over lunch, me saying out loud "ninety percent of the time, it’s okay" and when Dave said "Wouldn’t you have bled if something was wrong?" I described to him what was going on in my body, only I didn’t know it yet. "Sometimes they stop developing and take a while to … come out."  I couldn’t eat my fries. I knew.

The exam was fine, I couldn’t believe my blood pressure was normal, because I was almost hyperventilating, it felt like.  I was rigid and tense during the pap, more than usual, but I was just holding on, holding it in, I think. Hanging on to the last few minutes of ‘not knowing for sure.’  Then came the ultrasound.

Dave was sitting beside me, behind me, and the doctor wheeled the machine around so we could all see.  She inserted the wand, and right away, I knew.  I knew what I should see. Instead, it was like trying to make out a comet in the distance, a small gray glob, no movement, no head, no arms. Nothing like what an almost 9 week embryo should look like. I started gripping the sides of the exam table and looking away, trying to not look at Dave, trying to make it stop being real. I knew. 

The doctor got quiet, and said "there’s a sac… and we should see a heart, but I don’t.  Are you sure you’re 8 weeks along? This looks almost 6 weeks."

"I’m sure. I haven’t had sex since we conceived because I had such a bad feeling about this. I should be 8 weeks and 4 days, at the minimum."  She turned the machine off.

She gave me my options, I could have another u/s today at the hospital, but I didn’t want to. I knew what I should see, and seeing it ‘better’ wouldn’t make it alive. I declined.  She told me my options, D&C, or waiting it out, and I chose to wait it out.  She held my hand and said "We’ll schedule an appointment for next week, to make sure." But there is no making sure. I know. I knew.  "When you leave, just leave.  We’ll call you with the appointment and bill your insurance."  I cried for a bit in the exam room, but I wanted to go. Go go go go go .

And when we left, it was the first time I’d ever seen other people in the practice.  My first appointment was very early in the morning, and I never saw another patient.  We were the first appointment after lunch, and were inside before anyone else showed up.  When we left, it was a sea of pregnant women. And me. Crying. Red faced and staring at the ground, finding my way to the door, Dave behind me, shellshocked from seeing his first pap smear and first dead embryo in the space of half an hour.

I came home, and I cried with my head in Dave’s lap.  I finally made him go, so I could call people and tell them.  My mother cried.  My coteacher was in a meeting, but I insisted I talk to her, and she said she’d tell the people at school who knew.  Amy said "Oh, NO." and got teary.  I still don’t regret telling people.  Maybe I knew that I’d only ever have this one chance to announce my first pregnancy in a happy way, and that’s why I did it.  I’m okay with telling, still. 

Tonight, Amy is coming with a friend from high school that I haven’t seen in years, but that Amy sees on a regular basis.  They had planned to come anyway, and I know that I will enjoy the company.  The friend of Amy’s that is coming has been through this, twice, and has 3 healthy boys now.  She also knows the stress of trying for so long, and so I really see this as a way to reconnect — or connect for the first time — with her.  I will be okay.

I know I can get pregnant.  I also know that 2 miscarriages in a row is a rare occurrence.  Dave and I are ready to start trying again as soon as possible, and ready to have that joyous ultrasound experience, not the one where the doctor keeps the pictures and hides them in the chart.

Thanks for all the kind thoughts, whether from IB, or Digs, or here, or email… it means a lot, and I am reading them and feeling very blessed to have my internet support circle, as well as my RL support circle.  Thanks.