On May 6, I wrote of the good news that I received from the lab. Though I was nearly certain that I had miscarried, my hCG numbers continued to rise and very nearly doubled within 48 hours. This isn't a guarantee that I won't miscarry, but it is an encouraging sign. My doctor was really happy with the numbers and he asked me to come in when I was around 6-weeks along.
I'm 6w2d and had a doctor's appointment this afternoon. Though I usually only bleed in the morning, I began bleeding around 45-minutes before my appointment. Naturally, the red geyser had dried up by the time the doctor started pawing around down there.
I continue to bleed every day and that has him troubled. Heck, it has me troubled! Who wouldn't be troubled by a solid month of bleeding or spotting every single day?!
Contrary to side effects that I've read from women on the internet, he claims that the progesterone should not be causing my bleeding. If that's the case, I think it's a mighty big coincidence that I began spotting the day after I started using the progesterone. Regardless, he wants me to continue using the progesterone suppositories until I'm at least nine-weeks along. At that point, the placenta should take over progesterone production and the suppositories will not be helpful in continuing the pregnancy.
I wanted to announce this pregnancy to everyone I know once I saw that second pink line at 4:00 am on Easter Sunday, but I just couldn't do it because I'm still painfully aware of what happened to my last baby. I know this sounds horrible and I hesitate to put this in print, but I try to keep this pregnancy from my mind as much as possible. I'm still emotionally guarding myself against this pregnancy, this baby. I am afraid to feel too happy, to love too deeply because I am afraid to feel the aching anguish that I know I'll feel if this baby dies too.
So I had a strange mindset when it came time to perform the important parts of the exam: the pelvic and the trans-vaginal ultrasound. I wasn't nervous. I wasn't anxious. I wasn't eager. I was just there, just numbly existing.
He grumbled about the remarkably difficult position of my cervix (trust me, I wanted to grumble too!), but indicated that it was tightly closed. That's good news because a miscarriage would be inevitable if the cervix opens (dilates) this early on. He expressed surprise that he couldn't see any evidence of the suppositories in my vagina and said usually he can see bits of it remaining in the patient. I let him know that it flows out in a waxy river of grossness about an hour after insertion. That surprised him too. I hope that my body is absorbing enough of the progesterone before my magical vadge makes the remnants of the suppositories disappear. Then he commented that I certainly feel 6-weeks. Uh, actually, my uterus feels 6-weeks.
The he broke out the trans-vag machine. I can't help it, but I totally smirk when the doctor/technician/whoever lubes up the dildo-shaped probe and then rolls a rubber down the shaft. Adding to the awkwardness is that he put on a rubber that surprised the nurse and she commented that she didn't know I was allergic to latex. He replied that he couldn't find the other ones and she just shook her head. I wanted to say, "Hey guys, would you mind arguing over prophylactics when I'm not doing the least-sexy split beaver pose in history?"
By the way, he didn't choose ribbed for my pleasure.
I didn't even bother looking at the screen at first. I don't know why. I think I was afraid to see absolutely nothing. Instead, I saw everything.
There was not only a baby, but also a strong heartbeat. The baby is also measuring perfectly for 6w2d whereas the last baby was measuring a bit smaller than expected at this point.
This is GREAT news!
He conducted a brief breast exam and I could tell that he was staring at something. I am a big weirdo in that I involuntarily smile during breast exams. I can't help it, it feels nice and sometimes it tickles. So I thought he was probably staring at my silly grin and wondering why he has such a weirdo for a patient. Finally, he came out with it and asked about the strange vein going on my left breast. Ah, of course! I sighed and said it was a symbol of my misspent youth.
"A tattoo?" He sounded incredulous. I guess I don't look the type?
"Sort of. What's left of one anyway. You'd think after a year of laser treatments and $1,000 that there wouldn't be anything left. Ugh!"
Enough about my apparently still tatted up tit, let's get to my restrictions. . .because you know I have to have some, right? The doctor didn't outright say that I should not have sex, but did say that he wouldn't recommend it since I'm still bleeding every day. I didn't even ask about sex (seriously it's not even on my radar at the moment) so I guess he knows me pretty well, eh? I stopped what he was saying with a dismissive wave of my hand and said, "No worries, Doc, it's no man's land down there right now anyway. I'm not even having Os or anything." He laughed out loud, looked at my husband and said that had a way with words. Hubs smiled and shrugged while saying that I am a writer so yeah. Yes, I was all puffed up because I didn't realize that Hubs considered me a writer.
I'm thankful and feel encouraged, but am still cautious because the worst can still happen. My faith has been challenged, but I know that this baby will be if it's God's will. Nonetheless, I pray for this baby every night and I feel strengthened by the daily prayers of friends and family members.