The days leading up to today have been interminable. Pessimistic at the best of times, I seemed to have hit a new low over the past couple of days. It was doom and gloom, all the time, on constant repeat. I cannot tell you how many people (D, family, friends) I would randomly tell “I am not expecting to see a heartbeat on Wednesday” or “It won’t be good news”. It was like I had to keep saying it so I could protect myself. If I did not get my hopes up, then maybe the bad news could not hurt me.
Google only added fuel to my depression fire. Apparently, tilted uteruses (uteri?) can make it difficult to see heartbeats/ get measurements (and guess what I am lucky enough to have). And even if everything was perfect and non-tilted, 6w is very early to see a heartbeat. I bemoaned that my appt was a 6w1d and not later in the week. I became convinced that even in my best case scenario, we would only see a sac, but no heartbeat. I knew I had reached my depression zenith when, getting ready today, I purposely wore glasses and no mascara, convinced I would be crying in the doctor’s office. Not exactly the excitement and joy you hope to approach your first ultrasound appointment with.
Thankfully, once we go to the doctor’s office, we did not have to wait for long. Dr. O was in with us in a few minutes. Almost immediately after she put the wand in she said, “there is one, good looking sac.”
And then, a few seconds later, “and there’s the heartbeat.”
I cannot tell you the gratitude I felt in that moment. We were getting our chance. Our little one has a beating heart.
Afterwards, she sat with us to answer questions. Even though I have had tons, I never wrote a list this week assuming it was going to be bad news, so of course my mind was blank as she sat there with us. Plus I think I was so overwhelmed, I could not even think to ask questions relating to this appointment (even basic ones like “what were the measurements?”). Instead, we sat around and she rattled off stuff she thought we should know. Important information from our meeting: we can stop the p.i.o (yay! I've gotten a rather lumpy upper butt) and go on crinone, and I can reduce my estridol to 1 dose per day. She also told me to call my regular ob and schedule an appt for after 8 weeks, and then she made some recommendations when I told her I haven’t been to a regular ob in years since I have seen specialists as of late. After that we made an appt for next week and we were on our way.
I am of course, so happy and feel incredibly blessed. But in the interest of full disclosure, the unbridled happiness lasted all of about 30 minutes. After that, the worry crept back in. What were the measurements? She never mentioned the fetal pole – do I have one? Am I one track for 6w1d? Could my low betas indicate a chromosomal abnormality and things still go horribly wrong?
As I rattled these off to D, cursing that I did not ask the doctor, he turned to me and lovingly, but firmly, said, “Stop it. Enjoy the day.”
So that's what I am going to do.