Scared

I’m scared. Am 6 weeks today. Scared. No reason to be scared other than the fact that last time, the baby stopped growing at about 6 weeks 1 day (or 3 days). I had symptoms then, too. So my symptoms aren’t always comforting. As soon as I feel reassured at the presence of a symptom, a voice will tell me, Yes, but you felt this way last time, remember? Creepy voice. Shut up.

Thursday is the telltale ultrasound. Four days until Table. I’ll be 6 weeks 4 days. Fetal pole and heartbeat should be present. So much will happen in a handful of seconds. So much will be decided in the length of time it takes a Magic 8 Ball to answer a question, except this question isn’t anything like “Will Gary Williams ask me to the dance?” A little frivolity would be nice right about now. I feel suddenly so serious.

I do have hope, and lots of it. I do feel pregnant in a really consistent way. But I’ve been through this six times now, and it is impossible to have total confidence, and impossible to not have fear.

What’s nice about the zoloft is that I don’t feel anxious—or at least I don’t have the physical sensations that go along with anxiety. No nervous stomach, for example.

I want this so badly that there does not seem to be any ‘holding it lightly” right now. The best I can do is distract myself from the yearning by cooking, reading, watching a movie.

Doesn’t help that our friends’ wedding is the weekend following the Thursday ultrasound. The one DH is officiating. Blueberry Buckle dress did win the prize, and my lord is it gorgeous, especially with a pair of red velvet flats. Today we bought DH a new suit jacket, pants, shirt, and tie, and he looks incredibly handsome in them. We’ll surely have our photo taken lots. And I am hoping hard that I will be able to genuinely—not pretendingly—enjoy the occasion, to smile readily for the camera, to not have to run to the bathroom to dab away tears or apply concealer to the purple gashes beneath my eyes. Please! Please.

It’s the fork in the path that always trips me up. Each time I get to this fork, I am sent down the darker, thornier path, the one overgrown with gnarly branches that will not let the sun shine in. I see the other path at the fork, the path that winds through the tall, soft, swishy green grasses, wildflowers at foot and birdsong overhead, where the honeyed light would surely warm my arms—but I’m never allowed to take that one.

I just have to keep concentrating on the light. That’s all I can do for now.

It was an interesting weekend. Saturday started off as a good date, but at the Japanese restaurant, my food arrived marinated in soy sauce (I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me) which, as you GF ladies know, has wheat in it. Some of the food seemed relatively soy-sauce-free, and I ate that, but generally wasted a $26 entree. I was hungry. So at the movie, I got popcorn. But it was so salty I could barely choke it down. DH had begged me to go to the Captain America sequel, and since the first one seemed harmless enough, I agreed. But the sequel is incredibly violent, much more so than the first one, and the volume on all of the explosions made me jam earplugs in my ears (I am crazy and always have earplugs with me). The violence was really getting to me so I left early and told DH I would be waiting for him on a bench outside. I ended up going into the Muppets movie, just because it was right there, and the theater was filled with parents and their kiddos. I had two simultaneous thoughts: That will be me soon and What if that is never me? 

During the drive home, hungry, still feeling assaulted by the movie, and probably filled up with swirly pregnancy and medication hormones, I started to cry. I hadn’t cried like that in such a long time (thank you, zoloft), and the tears flowed and flowed and flowed. It actually felt good (later, DH said that this was the whole point of the night, to bring me to catharsis, ha ha). I cried as we entered the house. I cried on the couch. I cried through my peanut butter, honey, and banana sandwich. And then I dropped off to sleep as if I’d been drugged.

Today I woke up with one thought: Refried beans. Who craves that at 9 a.m.? I did. And it became imperative that we find an authentic Mexican restaurant where I could eat them. This happened at 11 a.m., and I gorged myself on huevos rancheros and a tostada…and commenced to spend a day in nauseated regret. I stopped at a vitamin store and got some ginger mints to cure my nausea, and two seconds after popping two in my mouth, noticed on the label the word “ginseng.” Sigh. Ginseng is associated with birth defects and on the “no” list for early pregnancy. “Jeesh! I give up,” I said, spitting them out.

All was rectified after a rest on the couch this afternoon and a very healthy meal this evening. Now I am sitting here procrastinating, because I know that the minute I stop typing I will have to face down my two polar narratives for this Thursday, narratives that keep popping up without invitation. In one, through the gnarled tree branches, I see Dr. SR looking at me steadily and saying how sorry he is, but things aren’t looking good. I hear him saying that with that healthy-sized gestational sac and yolk sac last week, he’d had high hopes, but it seems that the fetus isn’t growing, and the heart rate is slower than we like to see at this point. Then the narrative will switch to the sunny path at the fork. His eyes are clear and he is smiling. He is saying that everything is still looking great, and the fetus is growing right on track, with a nice strong heartbeat. I am released down the sunny path in my Blueberry Buckle dress, arm-in-arm with DH in his sharp new jacket. When the cameras start flashing, we smile, for real, and for the first time in years we feel free.

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32 Comments

  1. I’ll take the second narrative and choose to believe with you. :) Can’t wait for the scan results. And maybe then you can post a picture of you in that lovely dress with those lovely shoes. :)

    Reply
  2. Waiting is the worst. So hopeful that this time next week you are celebrating! Also, try some ginger gum if you can find it. Works great for nausea (AND heartburn).

    Reply
  3. Hoping this is just the beginning of a wonderful 9 months. I know the fears, hopefully they will subside and have reason to. Hugs and love to you!

    Reply
  4. Hoping SO much for the wild flowers path xx

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  5. Of course your fears are so real and valid and obvious given all you’ve been through, but try to bear in mine how highly **unlikely** the tragic outcome of frowny faces and gnarled tree branches really is. Yet I totally get it–all you’re feeling–because I’ve walked that path of uncertainty with split scenarios laid out in my head while approaching the fork in the road after so much conditioning to prepare for the worst despite the hope in my heart. Deep breaths, one foot in front of the other until it gets easier, Xo

    Reply
    • This was extremely helpful to hear and I’ve actually been thinking of your highlighted word (unlikely) all day! Thank you for that important reminder. XO

      Reply
  6. Thinking of you. Hoping everything is well and that you are able to continue to think down the sunny path.

    Reply
  7. I know this is terribly scary… and that your fears cannot, will not, simply dissolve, rather they must be calmly and wisely negotiated day by day, hour by hour. Go slowly and live lovingly as you have… you have already done so much, everything in your power, to cultivate a warm and welcoming womb and a strong and soaring spirit. You cannot do more, take solace in that. I am sending you all my positive energies, truly! We will be many, right there with you on Thursday, waiting to rejoice!

    Reply
    • Ah, that a really nice thought, thank you! Wise negotiations—that is excellently put. And it is good to be reminded that I have done everything, literally, that I can. Am receiving your positivity….xo

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  8. I don’t even know what to say, having been there so man times myself. I hate that you are suffering and in this place where there is no holding lightly and no turning off the thoughts of fork #1. I so understand and I am so sad you are going through this.

    I will simply hold out a mountain of hope and prayers and do my best to breathe in your suffering and breathe out peace and light for you this week.

    May all go well. Please, indeed.

    Reply
    • That’s all I need, just keep hoping and praying! The fear comes and goes. I baked some GF lemon cupcakes while listeing to Loretta Lynn, and that seemed to help. Little steps. Thank you for breathing for me! xo

      Reply
      • Loretta Lynn and GF lemon cupcakes – heavenly yum! What would you bake to accompany Patsy Cline, I wonder?

        On breathing duty. You can count on me.

        Reply
  9. I think you are right. Keep concentrating as much as you can on the light. If the darkness comes – and, and I sure hope it stays far, far away, there will be plenty of time to think of that then.

    Easier said than done, but I’m going to try to take your advice too.

    Reply
  10. They will have no fear of bad news; their hearts are steadfast, trusting in the LORD. ~Psalm 112:7

    This is my all time favorite verse for moments like these. It always brings me comfort and I hope it does the same for you. I’m praying for you girl and believing that on Saturday, when the light bulbs are flashing, your smile will be so great and so big because of the life you have growing inside of you. You will be glowing yourself! xoxo

    waitingforbabybird.com

    Reply
    • Aw, thanks sugar, that’s very helpful indeed. Perhaps they won’t need flashes on the cameras, right, if I’m glowing like that? I do hope to be glowing, and can picture that easily. Thank you for reminding me to remain steadfast for bebe. It’s only a few more days…xo

      Reply
  11. Kali

     /  April 7, 2014

    My heart is pounding for you, I know EXACTLY the fear, as I had no warning, my baby just stopped growing. I am actually glad I’m not going to that clinic anymore because I can’t face the particular office (they have many around the city) where I received the shocking bad news.

    But this time, I am feeling what you wrote before, the presence you feel around you. And I am, as I type this, printing out my contract to send to RBA in Atlanta. I’ve already paid the deposit.

    Let this be a new beginning for both of us. I just changed the password on my work computer, and this time it’s NewStart2014.

    ((((TUT)))) I’m with you. And instead of being on pins and needles for you, I am purposely moving myself to that place of faith and trust until Thursday.

    With much love,
    Kali

    Reply
    • Amazing! Thank you for moving yourself there, to that place of faith and trust—if you are there, I can go there, too.

      That is fantastic that you have made the big move to RBA. I’m so happy for you and your new beginning. All good things are possible! XO

      Reply
  12. Oh to be an oblivious fertile… I’m thinking of you, I think if you’ve suffered a loss there are bound to be these thoughts, and you’ve had a rougher road than most. Be kind to yourself and take one day at a time. It’s ok to be scared but also enjoy what you have right now, today. xx and I’ll also try to take my own advice :) xx

    Reply
    • It really would be nice to be oblivious! I’m trying not to be too wary. Today I looked up ingredients in lotions and shampoos I should be wary of—sigh. Week 6 is an important week, in terms of development, but I don’t think Jergen’s lotion is going to make or break this pregnancy. I’m trying to enjoy relaxing and taking it easy. Thinking of you. XO

      Reply
  13. One moment, one hour, one day at a time. I will continue to think good thoughts and wishing you light along the way. I was in your spot many, many time (9 to be exact) and I learned along the way that you have to take it ONE moment at a time.
    Hoping with all things to be hoped for that the path will be smooth(ish). You are doing the BEST you can do.

    Reply
    • 9—so you really really do get where I’m at. Thank you for reminding me that I’m doing the best I can, it is relieving to hear and think those words!

      Reply
  14. I am hoping that Thursday comes quick so that the anticipation and fear can end…and that it does just that…end. You have a beautiful big sac and I hope that counts for something! I am hoping for all light and no dark for you. It’s about freaking time you got some good news, girl! Hopefully you can keep busy over the next few days. I hope you are celebrating bigtime at this wedding, no purple gashes to be seen. :)

    Reply
  15. Just want you to know I’m thinking of you and sending heaps of positives your way for tomorrow’s good news visit. It will be good news. That’s an order, Universe!

    Reply

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