First off let me apologize for becoming one of those bloggers who gets pregnant and disappears off the face of the earth, so not my intent. Quite the opposite in fact, I have so much on my mind I’ve been waiting for a good time to get it all out, instead of just posting a rushed update (which in hindsight, I probably should have thrown something out there for those who remembered my first ultrasound was this past Friday). We finished our vacation in Hawaii and flew home last Tuesday, J had caught a cold early on in the trip but I managed not to catch it from him…until about 4 days before we came home. So by the time we did fly home, I was a snotty, congested mess. I called off sick for what would have been my first two days back at work, but by Friday I knew I would have to get up for my ultrasound appointment and just suck it up and go to work after.
The morning of our ultrasound, I still wasn’t feeling great but the extreme pressure in my ears had finally popped. I got in the shower but started to feel a bit off, turns out Poppet (this is our baby’s nickname, I’ll explain later) decided the day of the ultrasound was as good as any for me to start experiencing morning sickness. I was trying to drink water to fill my bladder for the ultrasound, but couldn’t keep it down, so I desperately drank piping hot mint tea on the way to the appointment in hopes of quelling my nausea and that my tiny bladder would fill quickly.
The waiting room was empty, (as opposed to the first time I was there, making the appointment, when it was full of pregnant women) on account of our very early appointment. We didn’t wait long and we were called back by the ultrasound tech. She had me hop up on the table, and there was a seat for J behind me. She asked me my LMP, and I told her I thought it was Nov. 27, but that it didn’t really matter because I am an IVF pregnancy (which she then noted on my info up on the screen). So she asked my due date instead, which my clinic gave me as Sept. 2. She got down to business straight away and squeezed the jelly onto my stomach. It felt strange to have an abdominal ultrasound, rather than vaginal. The only other time I’ve had an external (as opposed to internal) ultrasound was when they did my embryo transfer so it was an interesting deja vu.
As soon as she placed the ultrasound tool on my stomach she noted that my bladder was not full at all. I apologized and told her I’d been sick that morning and had a hard time drinking the recommended amount of water. She told me she would have to do a vaginal ultrasound, and asked me if I was familiar with them. I had to laugh, and told her I was extremely familiar, which she noted, of course I would be. She left the room to get the “probe” and let me get into a state of undress. When she came back in, she prepped the wand and then handed it to me under the sheet and asked me to insert it…This was very odd and I even gave her a startled, “Me?”. She told me, I would know best what was comfortable better than her. Well ok, fair enough. She was also very tactful and kept the sheet covering me the entire time. A lot different from my experiences with probings of an infertility nature.
As she moved the wand around, I could immediately see my uterus (a fair bit bigger than before!) and in it a little blob, and before she could even point it out, I could see a little flashing in the centre of the blob. There was the heartbeat I’d been desperate for. After wanding around a little bit longer, she focused on the heartbeat for a moment, pointed it out, and for a few short seconds a sound filled the room. The most amazing thing I had ever heard, our baby’s heartbeat, strong and fast at 163 BPM. The tears flowed freely and slid into my hairline, since I was laying on my back.
After taking several pictures, and measurements, pointing out the head and the rump (which was all sort of indistinguishable as it was curled up into a tiny ball) the tech left the room to let me redressed. When she came back she put some pictures on our USB (that we were told to bring) and printed us a single photo. J and I hugged, and kissed, basking in the surreal-ness of the whole experience. There was actually something in there, something with a heartbeat.
The whole time since our positive and rising betas, and especially since my episode of bleeding in Hawaii, I’ve had a hard time really believing or wrapping my head around the fact that there truly was a living thing in my uterus. None of it was tangible enough for me, I need visual proof to allow me to believe. Plus I was terrified of something going wrong, and finding out at the ultrasound like, feeling like some sort of fool for believing things were actually progressing how they should. I’d been behaving like a pregnant person, but I still felt like a fraud until that little flashing blip came into view on the screen.
Since then, I’ve had one person ask me if I was planning on having kids (an acquaintances mother, whom I hadn’t seen in a while), and I gave the same answer I always do, “eventually”. I had to cancel the appointment I had to get my wisdom teeth removed. I made it knowing full well (and hoping) that I may be pregnant, but I didn’t want to put off making the appointment just in case I jinxed myself by counting on getting pregnant. When I called they asked if I’d like to reschedule, which I declined, and told the receptionist that I was pregnant so wouldn’t be able to reschedule for a while. A girl I went to high school with had a baby recently (unplanned pregnancy with someone she ended the relationship with before she even knew she was pregnant), and it still rubbed me the wrong way. I see pregnancy announcements on Facebook, and pregnant people in real life and I still cringe. It’s a built-in reflex that will probably take a while to fade out.
As terrible as it may sound, I waited to start filling out my pregnancy journal until the day we had our ultrasound. I didn’t want to have that ripped from my hands before we had really any gotten anywhere concrete. I am still cautious about what’s around every corner, but the ultrasound did good things to my scarred soul.
The symptoms that I so desperately wished for while in Hawaii, still wondering about the contents of my uterus have made themselves known. I’ve had a few episodes of vomiting, and I don’t feel the greatest in the morning. I am tired a lot, and breast tenderness shows up with a vengeance around bed time. I have a few food aversions, but mostly I just crave fresh things, lots of fruits, and vegetables. Apples are my favourite. My cravings lend to a healthy diet, though sometimes at lunch when I don’t know what I want I come back to work with a random bag of groceries because I just couldn’t decide. My forehead is as angry as ever, flaring up in full on acne, the one consistent since about a week after the transfer. But I am happy, elated, scared and hesitant. One step at a time, and 8 weeks tomorrow. Thank you all for the love and support. I’m here, I’m back, and I’m not planning on disappearing anytime soon.