Had a little excitement around here today, but in the end, all is very well.
Last night before bed I noticed the absolute, most miniscule amount of spotting, barely even worth dignifying with the term spotting. And reminded myself to breathe, that I had some early spotting with Amy, that more than likely everything was fine, and went to sleep. And then this morning, there was more, still practically nothing but enough to at least call spotting, and I promptly flipped right the hell out and called my OB, who said it was probably nothing and that it was probably too early for them to do an ultrasound and see anything that would confirm one way or another.
At which point dead baby mom kicked in and I got teary and tried very hard not to sound like I was crying but I know that I did, I did sound like I was about to cry because I kind of was. I just. It’s early, it wouldn’t be as bad, but there’s really kind of a limit to the number of babies I can handle losing, you know? I need this to go a little better, this time, if at all possible.
And the nurse said she’d check with the doctor and then came back and said I should go ahead and come in for an ultrasound this afternoon, so I spent the morning moping and feeling queasy and distracting myself with sitcom reruns, waiting for my appointment.
The ultrasound was awesome. The ultrasound was everything I dared not to expect. We have a tiny embryo in there, in a tiny sac, with a tiny yolk sac, and, get this, a tiny heartbeat, snuggled in tight at the top of my uterus right where they want it to be, measuring a day ahead of where we thought we were. So, I went in for hysterical spotting, and came out with 5 pictures of our very much alive NewBaby, one less day of pregnancy to conquer, and already officially out of the treacherous zone of early miscarriages where heartbeats or yolk sacs never quite develop.
And at lunch, afterwards, food never tasted so good.