Okay. . . out of limbo. . . and wildly happy / freaked right out.
The loss of our child that kept me down and out for the last month and a half. . . never freakin' happened.
I was 6 weeks pregnant in November. I had some spotting and went for an ultrasound in which there was a baby with a heartbeat but a low gestational sac. Two days later, my world fell apart - I woke up in the middle of the night and started losing all the blood, ever, and passing giant clots (like the size of a plum. . . and not like 1 or 2 but maybe 15-20??). I only include these gory details so maybe you can all understand why I was absolutely positive that we had lost the baby. When I called my midwife, she concurred and told me at what point a trip to the ER might become necessary (it didn't) and that she would send along a package for dealing with loss.
That's it. No advice for a follow-up. No appointment for bloodwork or another ultrasound the following week. I don't know if that's standard. Maybe. But for me, I was content to let things go and stay at home, licking my wounds. That's how I am I guess. I didn't want to cry in an ultrasound office. And I hate getting bloodwork done on a regular day let alone the saddest time ever.
Maybe you find my reaction melodramatic. I would point out that even if I had suffered a complete loss, the pregnancy hormones can take some time to leave your system. And we all know (or should know) what crazy things those hormones can do to your mood and mental well-being!
So I cried. A lot. I did things I shouldn't have because I could (wine with dinner over the Christmas break, too many drinks on New Years'). And then I started to wonder why things weren't getting back to normal. The 4-6 week window for getting my period according to all the books, websites, pamphlets. . . yeah, that passed. So I took a test. Positive. Like blazing positive, the positive came up before the little comparison window.
Off to the doctor, and she's pretty sure that the positive test means I'm pregnant. Why didn't I think of that? After running through every other possibility I could think of, she sent me off for bloodwork and an ultrasound to determine whether this was the original pregnancy or a new one subsequent to the loss.
At the ultrasound, the second the tech put the wand down, there s/he was, moving around, looking much larger than a 5-6 pregnancy. The original baby! We're still not 100% sure what happened. Maybe I'll get some answers when I follow up with my doctor. But I am absolutely sure that this baby is like a superhero or something, a fighter. And I can't wait to meet him or her!
As for my posts on loss. I could delete them. I could erase them from this blog, from my record. But those 7 weeks happened. And I felt the way I felt. Even if what precipitated them didn't. Those feelings and thoughts are still part of my experience. So I'll leave them. Thank you for listening!