Inhale slowly through the nose, exhale slowly through the mouth. Oooooooooooo. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh.
I've been repeating that a lot the last couple of days.
Last night, I woke up and was convinced that there was something in my vagina. It felt a lot like when I would pass a clot, actually. Only, there was no clot. Or anything, though I cried for about twenty minutes. I was finally distracted by horrible, horrible vomiting (to little effect, as I hadn't eaten in hours). I eventually realized that if my water hadn't broken with that vomiting, I was probably fine and tried to ignore the cramping and fell into an uneasy sleep.
This morning was better. But I'm scrambling to get everything done at work that needs to be done before the surgery. I feel constantly behind. The sole consolation is that I felt the same last year so maybe there is hope yet.
I got a call from the surgical center today, and when I gave them my height/weight suddenly they said I was too heavy to have the cerclage placed there. They said the anesthesiologist was uncomfortable giving me anesthesia because they'd have a harder time intubating me at my size, and I should be in hospital. Given that no intubation is required (the anesthesia is a spinal), I was really confused, and then really upset. The nurse at the peri's office straightened it all out though and we are back on for Thursday morning.
I am scheduled for the NT scan tomorrow and getting the first panicky twinges about it. I have no reason to think anything is wrong - baby's hit the milestones and had good heart-tones, movement, etc. Nevertheless - test. Big one. With results coming a week after they stitch me up. Nerve-wracking. Lip biting. Scary. I'm hopeful we see all the markers we are looking for, so I'm reassured. With Gabriel I remember being very concerned about anencephaly, and the presence of a brain was enormously reassuring. Let's keep our fingers crossed that all is equally well with this one.
At least I am not worried about it being dead when we arrive tomorrow - we had a great session with the doppler tonight. It's been very hit or miss, and I limit attempts to no more than every other day and usually stop once we get a heartbeat. Tonight though, it was as clear as it's ever been and the parasite (who clearly dislikes the doppler as much as its older brother did) obligingly stayed in relatively the same area, so we got great sounds. Good enough to make us stop and just listen for awhile. There was a flash of excitement and pride, a breakthrough from the usual detachment I have with this pregnancy.
Which is not to say that it's gone - far from it. The question of Gabriel's sex was a looming one throughout his pregnancy. Of course, I was convinced he was a girl, and quite afraid of having a boy and what on earth I would do. I was legitimately concerned about gender disappointment, having always wanted a girl first, but it didn't matter in the end. I loved him, and was so excited when it was finally official that he was male. I'm curious this time, but there is nothing like the fervor of last time. No long conversations or guesses or musings. Of course, nearly everyone thinks this parasite is a girl, and I sway back and forth. In many ways that would be easier, and bittersweet in others. But then I doubt that it will be any other way when the constant comparison is to my poor lost little boy. Having a baby - should we be so lucky - won't answer the questions we've always had about what our son would have been like and what raising him would be. If anything, they'll become more defined, more crystallized as we see more clearly what we've missed and the foggy dream images take shape into a living reality.
Detachment is the only way for me to cope. Yes, I know if we have another loss I will feel guilty about it. But I have to balance that against surviving each day and the only way for me is for the excitement and hope and joy to be compartmentalized and allowed out only in careful doses. So tonight, it was sweet to listen for a few moments, to send a thought to the baby thanking it for its cooperation, and simply have a normal moment of pregnancy and bonding.
A deep breath in the midst of the panic that seems to supersede the majority of the time, if you will.
I will post sometime after the cerclage is placed, if things have gone well. If you'd keep your fingers crossed or think good thoughts or whatever you send into the universe on Thursday, we would surely appreciate it.