As she pulled up the ultrasound her face immediately went from smiling to confused. I felt my stomach drop. She made a noncommittal, “huh” and said nothing else. After trying for what felt like forever she suggested I go to the bathroom. I had gone right before I had been shown to my room but didn’t argue. In the bathroom the dialogue in my head went back and forth like a ping pong ball between “Chill out. Do not go worse case scenario” to “Except that’s where we’ve been the last three times in a row. You knew this was going to happen. . .” 

Back on the table and let’s give it another try.

Still no baby. She started to scan around and explain what was what and where the baby would normally be. I wasn’t really listening because I was trying to remind myself to breathe. In and out. Just breathe. She looked at me confused. . . “So your levels have been good?” Yes. “You’ve seen the baby before?” Yes. Every single week. For 10 weeks. I KNOW there’s been a baby in there. . . 

Backing up to the beginning of those 10 weeks. I remember testing before what would have marked me at 4 weeks. I had a feeling and test after test I found out it was the right feeling. I wish I could tell you there was joy. Happy tears. Excited running out to my husband. Rushing over to share the news with my mom. Instead it was all fear. Terrifying fear of how was I going to make it through this loss if it happened again. Fear of loss. Fear of the pain.

My OB was amazing and we had chatted about a plan for our next pregnancy. Right away I started going in for testing. Followed up with scans. Then again on repeat every week. My arms were so bruised from going to the lab. My girls had worked the phlebotomist so they knew exactly how to get stickers, windmills and more. They didn’t know we were pregnant just thought it was normal for mommy to go get “pinches” because I couldn’t bring myself to find a sitter that many times a week, couldn’t talk about it with anyone.

In the beginning my numbers were iffy but it was early so we just kept to course. After a handful of weeks everything was looking promising, but still no relief from worrying, worrying that every day was going to be the day that I’d start miscarrying.

I remember at one point my doctor looked at me sympathetically and said, “Talk to me about what you’re feeling. You don’t seem happy.”

I told him I had just been here too many times. I couldn’t allow myself to feel safe. I had to protect myself from the future pain that could come. Protect my kids from having to watch mommy fall apart (all over again). 

We were assigned to a genetic specialist to run all sorts of labs and tests trying to gain answers, get ahead of anything. Ironically we found out my doc and specialist were a married couple. We were well taken care of. There was a plan. We didn’t find out much but were able to cross things off our list of concerns. Continuing to go in week after week. Scan after scan. “Pinch” after “pinch” just waiting and trying not to hope too hard. I never thought I’d obsess over toilet paper as much as I did those first few months. 

In my second trimester my doctor was more then happy to hand me over to my midwife. It was my first appointment with her since I had Nora.  I can’t begin to explain how much I absolutely love her or how miraculous it felt that I could have her for care again. 

You see, when I had my daughter she told me she was retiring in 3 years. I remember thinking, no problem. We’ll totally bust out another baby by then! My last miscarriage would have been due in her last month of work. Adding another disappointment and let down. 

I truly believe it was Gods work at hand that she decided to stay on a little bit longer. I was sitting there telling her all this when she told me we could just start with the ultrasound because she understood that was nerve wracking enough for me.

As she pulled up the ultrasound her face immediately went from smiling to confused. I felt my stomach drop. . . . 

After explaining to her that I had seen my healthy, heart beating growing baby for 10 weeks straight she tried again after having me go to the bathroom, elbow deep & with some uncomfortable (still cramping like crazy at the time) firm hand movements over my uterus out of nowhere. . . There was my healthy baby with a beating heart. 

This was the first time I cried happy relief tears in 10 weeks. I cried hard enough to make the whole Kardashian family proud. It was ugly. It was loud. It was a raw, hold your breath, shake like crazy sobbing. She let me have a minute. . . Five or so is more like it. I let it all hang out. 

Thank you Jesus my baby was still ok. 

There’s no real words to describe what that first trimester was like. What the following 5 weeks or so were like. It feels unfair that the joy of the beginning was taken by the fear of familiarity with loss. That I spent the first 20 weeks trying so hard to control my emotions, be safe with my hope. Not let the fear eat at me.

Motherhood has changed me in so many ways in the past 5 years. Our journey to this point changed what I always envisioned pregnancy to be like.

We wanted to be the ones to tell our girls and on our own terms. I needed to be in a place where I felt ready for them to know. Where I could talk about it and be excited. So we waited. We told them on Christmas morning and they were so excited. Their excitement has only grown as they’ve asked all the questions, and I mean A L L the questions. They have all kinds of ideas and suggestions from where the baby will ride in the car to who gets to help bathe the baby.

I’m now close to the “any day now. . . “ stage with my EDD creeping up out of nowhere. I’ve been meaning to blog about the start of this pregnancy for quite some time but in the beginning I couldn’t. There was too much anxiety and fear. So much worry. Couple that with this pregnancy being a little on the tough side & being a mama of two busy little girls. You could say it got away from me.

I still wanted to share  for all my fellow mamas out there who aren’t feeling like rejoicing just yet. Who hold their breath every time they wipe, afraid of what might be. Who can’t bring themselves to pinterest all the cute ways to announce their pregnancy. That want so badly to have someone to talk to but won’t let themselves. 

I’m here. You’re not alone. One day at a time. 

Xx

Shan