Come Hell or High Water

The salesman and I went out shopping yesterday.  He was dying to get out of the house.  We sat down to lunch, and he said, “So Emmy, we need to think about life insurance for me since you don’t work, and you need to decide if you want a living will.  You know, that the last time you were so close to death that if you had signed one you wouldn’t be here.”  Holy motherfucking fuck.  ”Did he just say that to me?” I wondered.  I told him, “how is this for a living will.  If you pull the plug on me a single second before I have been clinically brain dead for more than 2 weeks, and I will haunt you for the rest of your life.  Jesus Christ what is wrong with you?  I didn’t die.  I am here.  And you are going to be stuck with me for longer than you care to even imagine.  I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”  

But this little conversation got me thinking…this could really happen.  We really could have a repeat performance.  Since then I haven’t wanted to get off the couch, and I have been obsessively been googling cervical incompetence. (As if I need anymore of an education.)  I could never forgive myself if I killed this baby too.

Edited: To answer Thalia’s question, yeah I think he is scared and that is part of the reason the salesman has been extra insensitive lately.  He isn’t know for his sensitivity anyway, but it has definitely been worse lately.

I really do, but the Salesman royally pissed me off today.  We went in for our triple screen.  I still HATE going into hospitals.  We had the scan.  It went fine.  The baby measured fine and looked great, and my cervix measured 3.4 cm.  For that part of the story you can check my old blog.  I am too tired to type all of that out again.  I got into a scuffle with the nurse, but well…you know how that is.  Anyway, he knows that hospitals freak me the fuck out.  I figure it must be PTSD.  You would think that because of this, he make an effort to be at least somewhat sensitive when we are there. 

Not my husband.  They did the scan and then it was time to do the blood draw.  I warned the nurse that my veins are shitty.  She looked, stuck, dug, and got nothing.  She tried the other arm.  No vein.  Have I mentioned how much I loathe needles?  She called in another nurse.  She couldn’t find one either.  I said,” you know if you can’t get it, I wouldn’t be at all offended if you sent me down to phlebotomy.  I know they’re really bad.”  So they did.  But as soon as they were out of the room prepping the paperwork, the Salesman called me a wimp.  Big deal Emmy…right?  I know it sounds silly, but I was offended because look at what I have been through and how far I’ve come…largely without a lot of support.  You can call me anything but you can’t say that I am a wimp.  I have bigger balls than most people I know.  I couldn’t believe he said that.  The nurses were right outside the room and the door was open.  

Then we went up to our OBs office for a quick chat with them. We saw a new doctor that we had never seen because mine is out of town.  We were discussing our treatment plan with her, and I told her that we were supposed to have biweekly ultrasounds starting now.  He said, right in front of the doctor.  Emmy we are not having 2 per week.  The doctor shot him a “shut the fuck up look,” and said “right biweekly, every two weeks.”  I about fell apart right there.  I feel so fragile in there with all of those pregnant women, and I am so afraid that my body is going to kill this baby too.  Why does he have to kick me when I am down?  Every time we go to the doctor I feel like he is judging me.  I mean last time, he yelled at me for not being nice enough to the nurse and I broke down crying right there in the exam room.  He also told my family after I lost the girls that I had been kicked out of two clinics which was not true.  In fact I named Claire after my nurse, something I likely would not have done if I had been asked to leave.  

I told him tonight that I think it’s best if I just go alone from now on.  He said he was sorry, but I am still kinda angry and sad.  I just want some fucking support.  I want to feel what I am feeling and NOT have someone say “Emmy just relax and enjoy it.”   There is no way that is going to happen.  No fucking way.

Today I saw Dr. L and had an ultrasound.  ET looked great and measured 10w1d.  His/her heart rate was 153 bpm.  Of course the little stinker wouldn’t cooperate with the doppler, but since we had just seen the heartbeat 10 minutes earlier, Dr. L was unconcerned.  Besides, I listen to it every night.  It just takes patience and lots of time sometimes.  I confessed about the doppler and he said it was fine.  He doesn’t get excited about much but he is kind and patient and that is all that matters.  He said that our risk of miscarriage at this point was negligible, and my risk of Down’s/Trisomy 18 was 1 in 1,000.  Our next visit is on Feb 19th for the NT scan, and then we start biweekly monitoring for incompetent cervix on March 3rd.  I feel like I can finally breathe (at least for today anyway).

Marks the 1 year anniversary of Phoenix.  That’s what we call it.  Not only did I lose my babies and almost my life, but also my faith in my family and husband.  Honestly, I still don’t know what about that time hurts the worst.  But I am going to be fine.  We have made it through the first year, and despite the obvious pain associated with what we went through, a lot of good has happened.  We have a new house, another baby on the way, and I am almost finished with my Master’s degree.  I have to believe that my girls are watching over us and ET, and things are going to continue to look up.

It does sound like galloping horses!  We got it for sure!! ET decided to cooperate long enough for me to call my dad even to let him listen.  We even recorded it, and it held steady at about 175 bpm.  Right now I feel happy and confident, and God I hope that I can continue to find peace in the little things through this scary second trimester coming up.

The doppler arrived today.  I ripped it open in true infertile fashion and in 15 seconds had that sucker out.  I know…it’s too early.  It was really hard to tell what I was hearing, but if I held it in the same spot just above the pubic line slightly to the right of the midline with a full bladder and the probe pointed down, I could get a pretty consistent woosh woosh that was measured by the machine at 160-170 bpm.  Of course within a few seconds I would start picking up placental sounds or my own heart beat, but it says in the package that it takes whatever sound is strongest.  So I think I heard it?  Could it have been just a fluke?  Is there anything else that it could have been?  See I never got to hear the girls’ heartbeats because they would have never been able to tell whose it was, so this is unchartered territory for me.  I really hope that it was ET though.  If it was in fact him/her the heartbeat is only going to get easier to hear right?

I don’t feel pregnant today.   Not at all.  Not even a little bit in fact.  I am hungry and my boobies are sore but that could just be from those mother.fucking shots.  I am trying to convince myself that I am being rediculous and that ET is most likely fine, but I can’t stop second guessing myself.  What in the hell is wrong with me?  Why can’t I find happiness in this?

I did something that was probably stupid.  I ordered a baby doppler so that I can feed my neurosis.  I know that it could end very very badly, and I am completely aware of all of the reasons why it was a terrible idea.  I guess that part of me is desperately seeking that ever elusive piece of mind.  I swear to God I have probably tracked the thing 10 times today.  But then there is this other part of me that says, “Emmy you are a fucking idiot for thinking that this is going to work out in the end, and you are a bigger fucking fool for ordering that torture device.”  I don’t want to acknowledge that part though because it’s probably just anxiety talking (with good reason I know), but what if it’s right?

I keep cramping.  I know it’s normal.  It’s right under my  belly like in my groin area.  It’s not helping me to think happy thoughts…

Alright, I guess that this is really turning into a bitchy whiny post, so I am not going to bore you with it anymore.  It’s hard because so few people know that we are even pregnant.  I don’t have the support system I used to.  I know that I have big shoulders and I should be able to handle this, but…nevermind, there I go again.

Have a lovely evening ladies.  *Smooches*

Today we graduated from our RE.  The baby measured one day behind (he or she measured a day behind the last time we saw the RE and then measured a day ahead at the OBs office two days later so I really think that it is just a discrepancy with machines), and the heartbeat was 139 bpm, which is fine I am told.  So I have officially been released.  I know that I should be excited, but for some reason I can feel the other shoe hovering over my head just waiting to come crashing down on top of me.  I mean really…a new house….a new baby…things haven’t gone this way for Steve and I since…..well…..I don’t really remember.  Our next appointment is a 10 week viability check (for the sanity of yours truly) with the OB on February 3rd.

Today the baby really looked like an alien in a flying saucer.  Would I be a bad mother if I nicknamed him/her ET?

Thank you to all of you for all of your support.  We went to the OBs office this morning, and I was absolutely sick with worry.  However, 6w3d the baby measured 6w4d and the heartbeat had increased to 119.  That is one beat per minute off of “normal,” but she only took one measurement and it’s close enough for me.  All I was really hoping for today was progress, and the baby is measuring ahead of schedule and the heartbeat is normal.  I couldn’t have asked for anything better.  So at least for today….all is right with the world.

Today should have been a happy day.  I am 6w0d.  I have my first u/s at the REs office this morning.  They saw a sac with a perfectly measuring embryo and a heartbeat…..of 101.  The stupid tech says “oh my that’s on the low side.”  Fuck.  So I am thinking, “Well Emmy that was fun while it lasted, eh?”  So then we go into see Dr. Sweetiepie.  He is all grins and I want to tell him that there is nothing to be smiling about but I bite my tongue.  He says, “I see heartbeat.  I am happy.  At 6 weeks we no see heartbeat.  So I see it and it is good.”  Meanwhile I am thinking, “I am in no mood for false hope.  You don’t know how things go for me.  This pregnancy is most certainly over.” He sent me packing with an appointment for next Thursday.

Then we head home because the salesman forgot to bring the medical records from when everything went to hell in a hand basket with the girls.  I am in a horrible mood because now we are headed to the OB where we get to deal with this shit all over again.  We stop at home, I give the doggies a cuddle, and off we go again with no lunch.  We make it to the other hospital which is about 30 minutes away.  The receptionist is a bitch and then we get called back for our appt with the nurse.  I tried to like her, but she was so cavalier about what we went through.  Evidently, they never closed the case on the triplets, so I had to listen to her on the phone with tech support discussing how they could “get rid of that pregnancy and start a new one.”  She couldn’t even fucking say “God I am sorry. You guys have been through a lot.”  It was the longest 45 minutes I have had in a long time.  At the end, she walks us out and shoves a folder with, get this, a first trimester pregnancy journal and a ton of sample prenatal vitamins at us and sends us back to the waiting room.  A first trimester pregnancy journal?!  People actually keep those?  Are you kidding me?  Yeah, I would totally be up for 6 months from now saying, “Oh look honey, on Christmas Day my nips looked like silver dollars.  Funny that 3 weeks later we had to have that damn D&C.”  Oh how I wish I didn’t have the experience to make me such a cynic.

Anyway, we waited in the waiting room for 2 HOURS waiting for my OB.  TWO HOURS!  The salesman was bitching aloud which was annoying the shit out of me.  Finally we got into the exam room and are talking and he actually has the gaul to say to me, “you know Emmy, you were not very friendly with that nurse.”  I coldly told him that a. I do not go to the OB to make friends, b. I don’t trust anyone in the medical profession anymore, c. she was a bitch and insensitive to our situation, and then I burst into tears.  Finally Dr. L came into the room.  Let’s call him Dr. Frank because he was very upfront and honest.  He said he felt that you could tell nothing from a heart rate of 101 at 6w0d, but he is repeating the ultrasound on Friday just for my sanity. He was very compassionate and very very understanding of all of my concerns.  He is going to monitor me closely and made it a point to make sure that the receptionists knew that we had been through a lot.  He gave me a 75% chance of a healthy pregnancy at this point, and said that if anything happens to the baby before 10 weeks it is because of genetic reasons.  

So anyway, I am still not feeling overly confident but I am trying to find faith.  I hope that you all had a good day.  Thanks for reading this ridiculously long post.