I should have written this post several days ago, but I just couldn't bring myself to put it down in writing. Even now I am forcing myself because it needs to be said.
Last Wednesday I added two more words to my "least favorite words in the world" list:
Wednesday I was feeling good. I even blogged that day about some tough stuff and managed to keep a good attitude for the day. I was breezing along, doing my work, picking out new Scentsy from a co-worker's catalog and chatting with my co-workers.
At about 3 p.m., I went to the bathroom. And saw blood. Quite a bit. It had soaked through the thin pad I was wearing. It was dark red/brownish.
I raced from the bathroom to my office and called the doctor. She advised me to go to the ER. Unfortunately, I work 25 miles away from that specific ER so I had a bit of a drive. On the way, I called Mr. M., who also works 25 miles away, and my dear friend L, who lives right by the ER so could meet me there.
This is a new hospital, so everything was shiny and clean. The ER was practically deserted. I stood at the reception desk, shivering and filling out paperwork, for about 10 minutes before they took me back to do blood pressure and such. L showed up at about that time, astonished that I had beat her there (I may have been speeding). She stayed with me while they took me back to a room and had me change.
The ER Dr, Dr B, was kind of insane. He was young and intense and talked really fast and was very blunt. He tried an abdominal ultrasound and got nothing, so he did a trans vaginal (oh yes, a date with wandy). In order to do it he had me prop my bum up on a sheet-covered bedpan, which was definitely interesting.
I couldn't breathe as I waited for him to say something. And then...
"Well, here's the baby, and here's the heartbeat."
I couldn't believe it and just kept saying, "Really? Really?"
The heartbeat was at 143 and the baby was measuring 7 weeks 6 days, which was right on track (and actually more on track than the previous measurement).
I called Mr. M., who still hadn't made it to the hospital, right away and he couldn't believe it either. We both were expecting everything to be over.
Mr. M. showed up soon after that. Luckily, Dr. A. was on call at the hospital that day so they were able to call and speak to her. I had to wait around for a urine test to make sure I didn't have a bladder infection, then wait for my blood to be typed (they simply refused to believe that I already knew I was O negative) and another Rogam shot (which it turns out I didn't need, but oh well).
Dr. B. could give us no cause of the bleeding. He said my cervix was still closed. He simply called it a threatened miscarriage and told me to take it easy, and that there was nothing they could do.
So that's what I've been dealing with lately. I met with Dr. A. the next day and she said she was very relieved at the heartbeat and had been REALLY worried about our first heartbeat of 112. I am to continue to take it easy with no exercise, heavy lifting, strenuous chores, sex, etc.
To make matters worse, my sweet girl (of the canine variety) is having bladder surgery this morning to remove bladder stones and I am so worried about her. I couldn't even pick her up and cuddle her this morning because I can't lift her. When the vet tech came to take her from me, she tried to hide behind me and my heart just broke.
And, of course, I am gaining weight, too much weight. Not a ridiculous amount but enough to make my pants tighter than I want them. I usually maintain my weight with exercise but that is completely verboten at this time.
Sigh. I am still struggling to hold onto my hope. Each day I wake up still pregnant is another small victory. Any day that passes quickly, yes even a weekend day, is a blessing.
As Dr. A. said to me on Thursday, "Someone wants this baby to be born."
I'm hoping that Someone will continue to bless and watch over our little family each and every day.