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Little Black Book of Eventually Read Secrets
Baby Journal #2
The last 4 days have been hell.
On saturday night, I was spotting. I went to sleep, wondering if I'd wake up to more blood like I did with my last one.
Woke up to nothing. You were fine, I was still pregnant. I was confused, but I counted it as luck and nothing more than irritation from 'activities', and moved on with my day.
Monday night, more blood.
I sat on the edge of the bed, your father sitting beside me, rubbing my back, as I rocked, silently sobbing. Was I going to lose you? I'm 8 weeks. So close to second trimester...You have hands and feet, and developing eyes and ears...So many times I'd cry, "Why me?". After all, I didn't know why this was happening at all. I didn't do anything. I didn't fall...I wanted to scream. And I'd tilt my head back, eyes closed tight, my exasperation bubbling at my lips. But I'd swallow hard and whimper instead.

And through my tears, staring at the ceiling in the dark, I whispered as I cradled you, "We're going to be okay."

I've been so sick. For the last 6 weeks, it's been nothing but constant infections and antibiotics. Throwing up and spending an hour at a time in a washroom, either sitting on the floor or on the edge of the tub. Me and your daddy have been fighting a bit lately. Not horribly so. But I'm very hormonal, very sensitive. And your father can be quite....callous, at times. When I need him, he's not always there. But I know he tries. He just...doesn't understand...

I have a sinus infection now. Over those last 4 days, there's been so many times where I've wanted to rip my teeth out. So I finally got into the doctor yesterday. I told him about the bleeding, once we were done talking about the infection. And he told me to go to the hospital.

I jumped on that opportunity. I was just waiting for someone to actually suggest it. For the last week, I've been trying to find someone to do my ultrasounds for me, but everyone is scheduling me weeks away. I need to know if you're okay. I need to know if there's a heartbeat.

I need to hear your heart.

We go to the hospital around 4:30. Your brother packs his favourite bunny to go to Grandma and Grandpa's, and I pack him for a night. I don't know whats going to happen, but it's emerge, so who knows how long we'll be in there. Unfortunately, this also falls on a Tuesday. Despite my protests, your father cancels our D&D night. I feel guilty. But I also feel wrong. There's something wrong.

Triage is assessment are quick. I explain the miscarriage, but the timing is weird. And I let them know that I'm not so sure about anything anymore. All I know is that I was a positive, and then I wasn't. And then there was you.

Nurse points out my heart rate is high, and that's when it finally really sinks in. I'm terrified. I'm so scared.

I need to hear your heart.

But what if there's no heart to hear?

I feel that fear creep over me, and I tell her I'm just having a lot of anxiety. She tries to find us a room so I can calm down, but unfortunately Tuesday happens to be a busy night. She apologizes profusely as she has to turn us out into emerge. I smile and assure her it's okay. Your father is with me, and he wraps an arm around me as we go to our seat.

Waiting at first isn't so bad. Me and him laugh as we go through pictures on my phone. Perhaps other people in the ER might think we're being obnoxious, that we are the example of 'people who don't need to be here'. But they don't know our pain. They don't know whats beneath my smile. They don't notice my hand constantly cradling my belly, my eyes constantly glistening with tears that I'm holding back.

But your father does. And every now and then, he drifts a hand to catch mine on my belly. And he slips an arm around my shoulders to pull me closer. And when I feel like I'm on the verge of losing it, he provides me shelter with his body, so that I might have a moment to breathe, away from scrutinizing eyes.

An hour or two goes by, and by the time they finally call us, I've finished a large tea and a bottle of water. I know they want to do an ultrasound, so I figured I'd get started with the water.

We're escorted into a room, and I'm instructed to drink even more water. "Want to make sure you're nice and full!"

Your father is perturbed by me as I agree, even though I'm on the verge of vomiting, and I've already drank so much. But, I drink 4 more cups anyways, explaining I'd rather be too much than not enough.

And I was indeed too much. Haha.

I had him move the garbage can in front of me, because I'm fairly certain I'm going to throw up. I push the button to page the porter, and I'm doubled over as my bladder is so full it hurts. This is my least favorite part of being pregnant, by the way. These darn ultrasound preps. So very painful.

The first one comes and the woman laughs as she asks me if I'm full and I nod enthusiastically, "I'm literally going to pee myself right this second." When the second porter comes, I'm walking around the room. He laughs and says, "I guess you're able to walk eh?" I nod and explain I don't have a choice. I can't sit.

Walking is agony, and when we make it to diagnostics, it's even worse. I have to stand there and wait, not so patiently. I'm doubled over on a stand, sweating, grimacing, legs crossed so hard that I don't even care about how I look. I'm dressed in a gown, with black socks, and a blanket draped around my shoulders. I'm a pregnant woman getting an ultrasound. People can think what they want! Haha.

I finally get in there, the tech is very nice. I lay on the bed, she goes to push, but she can't see with the wand. The baby is very tiny. So internal it is. I finally get to go pee so I can empty my bladder. Holy crap. Best feeling ever--Okay so anyways, getting lost in the details. I get back, assume the position, and we do the internal.

I can't see anything, as the screen is turned away from me. So I sit there, listening, biting my hand as I stare at the ceiling. She asks if I'm okay, probably worried that she's hurting me, but I explain to her how scared I am. I just had a miscarriage, and I'm so scared. She assures me that she will talk as much as possible and walk me through it. That everything is okay.

Finally, after a bunch of pictures and measurements, she looks to me and smiles, and asks if I want to see. I can't nod fast enough.

She turns the screen and moves a bit, and after a bit of manoeuvring--

There you are. Your not moving though, and your tiny. But there's your heart. And it's beating strong and fast. Second I see that heart moving, I'm crying and thanking her. She's not supposed to show me any of this, or say anything. But she's so kind, and I thank her. "You have no idea what you've just done for me," I whisper, choked up as I watch you in amazement, wiping away the tears.

She goes to call your father, and when he gets in, he sees me crying. He's worried at first, but she instructs him like she did me. And a second later, there you are again.

As I sit up, she pulls up the information screen, "So, after measuring the baby. We had you written down as 7 weeks 4 days. But, actually, you're 6 weeks 5 days."

I look to her, shocked, "I was completely off then! I thought I was at 8 weeks." She shakes her head with a smile, "Nope! Baby is still tiny. I'll send off these pictures and you can wait in the hall when you're ready. I'll call the porter to bring you back to emerge."

Once I'm cleaned up, I stand in the hall with your father, and I'm smiling. You're healthy and strong and that's all I care about. Younger than I thought, but that's okay.

You're alive. That's all that matters.

We're brought back to our room, and I get dressed. We're there for about another hour or so before the doctor comes in to talk to us. I'm happy, and send out the good news through texts to family. My dad asks about the bleeding, so does my mom, and I shrug it off. Don't know. But baby is okay.

But it's so much more complicated than that.

The doctor comes in, and smiles as she tells me, "So there's a live baby. 6 weeks, 5 days. So that's the good news!" I laugh and nod enthusiastically. I'm happy. But then her expression falls abit as she looks back to her paper again. I steel myself.

"So the tech did mark a bleed. So you have a small bleed in your uterus, about 1 to 2 cm. Its called a small sub chorionic bleed. That does mean your chances of miscarriage are higher than average, and you will bleed for a bit. You might bleed throughout the whole pregnancy. You don't need to worry, I think you'll be okay. Come back to us right away if there's cramping, you're going through a pad an hour, anything abnormal. Don't hesitate."

I nod, grasping what she is saying, before finally I ask the question that's been eating at me for days.

"Are we going to be okay?"

"Probably." Is the best answer she can give, and she knows that isn't much comfort as she offers me an apologetic smile, "Most women with this diagnosis are okay. So I think you'll probably be fine."

She also lets me know she took the liberty of referring me urgently to an OBGYN. A man I had many years ago. But because I just moved back, and my doctor is in Toronto, and not here. And because I'm a much higher risk than before, she put in a word for me, and I should hear back within the week. I'm grateful, as I'm still taking in all this information, trying to gauge the reaction I should have. What I should be feeling.

Eventually me and your dad are standing outside in the cool night, waiting for my dad to come get us. We talk more about the diagnosis as I research it. It's...alot to take in. I thought it was just irritation. Its so much more complicated than that.

Y'see. SCH, Sub Chorionic Hemorrhage (Or, Bleed), means that at some point I likely suffered placenta previa. Which means the placenta detached from my uterus and reattached somewhere else. I almost miscarried at some point in these past 6 weeks. And instead was left with a tear, a bleed. I have to rest lots, take it easy. I can't push myself, or lift anything heavy (which is impossible to do since I still have your brother to take care of. He's 30 pounds on his own.). I have to slow down, and watch myself.

When my dad finally pulls up, I see your brother in the back seat and I smile. My first baby. His pregnancy was nearly flawless. Despite my heart ache at first, in retrospect, everything was easier. Everything was completely healthy. For a baby born sick, my pregnancy with him was simple. So much more simple than this.

But, I whisper again as I hold my belly, looking out the passenger window.

"We're going to be okay."

Azure Starwish
Community Member
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