Continued from the previous post. You might want to skip this one if you don't like people over-sharing on their blogs (but I'm posting it because I'm comfortable with anyone reading it who wants to).
I was so happy to be pregnant again. It had been so long. I'd had my body all to myself for more than two years now, after 3 1/2 years of sharing it with my little ones, and it felt great to be sharing again. Well, not literally. It actually felt pretty awful, but I was glad, and that was the part that felt great.
Of course we didn't tell anyone. Since we weren't feeling perfectly confident in the outcome of this pregnancy we were keeping things to ourselves. I scheduled my first appointment with my OB/GYN at ten weeks. At this time we were planning our yearly trip to the states (just me and the kids). My appointment fell on the day before our flight out of Warsaw. It was a crazy time planning that trip, it always is, and we bought our tickets just a couple of weeks before we would leave. I was excited. Very. I always am.
A few days before the day of our departure, I started feeling more confident about the pregnancy. I was almost at week ten. That's pretty far! I knew there were a couple more weeks before we were clear, but I was still happy. We were going to be in America for a few weeks and I planned that when my family had our big get-together I would tell everyone that we were expecting. It was perfect.
The day before my doctor's appointment (and two days before our flight out) I started spotting. Oh! This had never happened during my other pregnancies, but I'd read thousands of times that it wasn't a definite sign of anything (but of course I had all kinds of thoughts swirling around in my head). We called the doctor and switched my appointment for that day.
We met him at the hospital, where he worked and where I always had my ultrasounds, and went into the darkened room. He squeezed the freezy-cold gel onto my still flat tummy and started looking. He knit his brow pretty early on and it stayed that way while he squashed me around for a few minutes. He said he couldn't see a heartbeat. He measured the fetus and proclaimed that it was a seven week old embryo. What? How could that be? I was almost ten weeks along!
He started explaining and the term "missed abortion" popped into my head, from one of my pregnancy books. That's what it was. He said I would miscarry any day now.
Hmm. "Any day now" I had other big, important plans, too. Expensive ones. Exciting ones. Physically and emotionally draining ones. But now we had something to factor in, and I was feeling the difficulty of following through with both of these plans that were to come to fruition "any day now."
***Click here for continuation***
I want to type more but we're supposed to leave in fifteen minutes for a weekend trip and I have a head of hair to cut, a suitcase to pack, rolls to bake, a shower to take and a baby to get ready. Think I can do it? Also, since I have to leave the story here, please remember that I was already emotionally prepared for this. The real stress and difficulty at this point, was reconciling my trip with my medical situation. Probably sounds bad but, as I say, I look at things practically.