Utter terror = visit to ER

First - I'll just get this out there so you can stop reading if you just want the bare bones and no details. Baby is ok, measured 8w3d, which is exactly 2w3d since our u/s dated us 6w even two weeks and three days ago. Heart rate was 182 bpm.

Background, or why I went to the ER in the first place: After taking a nap and feeling perfectly normal, I laid in bed reading. Completely out of nowhere, with absolutely no warning whatsoever, I felt a warm gush of fluid into my vagina. Went into the bathroom and saw red blood. I passed something into the toilet, wiped, found a lot of red blood. Wiped up, yelled in a panic for my husband, stood up and saw a very large clot in the toilet. It was triangular, about the size of a square of toilet paper folded diagonally, or a little smaller. DH saw that, and we talked about what to do. I checked internally, and found that my cervix felt about the same as the last time I checked - a little open, but low and mushy.

We called my mw, who advised that we go to the ER. By this point, there is just a little pink or brown spotting, even internally. No real sign of bleeding. She said we could wait until Monday if we wanted to, but that for my peace of mind, given it was out of nowhere and I said my symptoms had declined some over the previous week, and given my history, she strongly advised just going and getting the ultrasound, so we would know for sure.

I hung up and called my mom and started crying. Then we drove to the hospital across the street and found the ER and got in, at which point I was visibly shaking. They were very kind and triaged me immediately and sent me back immediately to a room with a bed. Things seemed to move fairly quickly, and they drew blood (had a lot of trouble though, had to try both arms and only barely got enough for the quantitative beta). Left an IV port in and holy hell, that hurt a lot. Jason called a couple of friends for me and then got pulled out to do paperwork and they took a history and did a pelvic exam. The PA immediately said there was some 'old blood' around my cervix but no active bleeding. She also said I was a fingertip dilated, but only at the opening, not all the way through. I was worried about that, but she said it's not uncommon in women who have had cervical dilation, as I have had. She was surprised that the clot was red and that it was out of nowhere, but it totally was - no cramping, no spotting, no nothing. I asked about the size of my uterus and she said she could feel a fullness, but didn't check for anything, preferring to wait for the u/s.

They got me in fairly quickly for the ultrasound. The tech asked a few questions and I told her I was really nervous and why. She said she understood and hoped things would be ok. She started with an abdominal u/s, and the screen was turned away from us. After a quick look, she said, "I am not allowed to tell you anything or interpret the results for you, a doctor has to do that. But there is nothing wrong with you watching if you'd like." And she turned the screen towards us. DH had a good view, but I didn't. She was moving fast. I got to see the baby a few times, and it was definitely a lot bigger than the last time, but I couldn't see a heartbeat and couldn't ask DH if he did. There was one point that she was clearly checking for a heartrate, but I couldn't tell whether it was there or not or what it was, partially from not knowing exactly what we were looking at but also because of the angle, I couldn't see the entire screen or anything she typed. She then said she wanted to do a vaginal u/s to double check.

I honestly felt like her allowing us to watch was based on reassuring us, that she wouldn't have turned the screen if there was no h/b. But then I was afraid she was gently trying to let us know that. And I was worried that she wanted to do a vag u/s (the last time we started with one and switched, it was with Chickadee and that didn't go well). Unfortunately, due to the position I was in, she couldn't turn the screen for me to see, but turned it so DH could. I squeezed his hand and gave up a thumbs up/thumbs down sign. He just shook his head and watched. He was concentrating pretty hard, and I was getting nervous. After what seemed like forever, he squeezed my hand and gave me a thumbs up, tapped his chest and mouthed 'heartbeat' - he told me after it was clear as a flashing Christmas light. The tech said she would review the images, send them to the ER doc and he or she would come talk to us.

We went back to the room, and about 45 minutes later - during which time DH told me that he saw the heartbeat and saw her type 182 bpm and that the gestational sac measured close to 10 weeks and he was sure all was well - they came back and told me I could get dressed again (thank goodness, I felt gushy after the pelvic exam and the u/s goo) and took out the devil IV port. The PA came back, handed me labwork (beta was a little under 97,000) and said all looked well. Baby was fine, yolk sac was fine, gestational sac was fine. Heartrate was 182 bpm, which was normal, baby measured 8w3d. She asked me about that, since I'd said I was nearly 9 weeks when I first went in and I said that matched the last u/s to the day. She said total pelvic rest and rest with my feet up as much as possible. She said there was no clear or obvious cause of the clot or bleeding and no signs of further bleeding. She said while all looked good and normal now, they couldn't say everything would be ok, given my history, but that for now, all looked well. Follow up with my OB, and take it easy.

I feel pretty reassured after the terror, because my miscarriages have never been totally spontaneous abortions - they've been mostly missed miscarriages, where development stops and we find out weeks after the fact. So given that there is clearly a healthy baby in there now and that according to u/s, my cervix looks ok (though I'm going to take it very easy and ask Jackie to check up - though I'd previously read about cervical dilation potentially causing an opening at the vaginal end and that being ok), I am feeling pretty good. I'm crampy now, but between a pelvic exam and two u/s, that is to be expected, as is some spotting over the next week.

I should probably change my tickers, which still say 9 weeks, based on ovulation, but honestly? 9w has sort of been a benchmark and it sucks, and I refuse to relive this again. I told DH I'd be happy to relive 11 weeks or 13 weeks, but I'll just leave things as they are, with a disclaimer it may be a little ahead. Don't care. Just happy the chicken is ok, even if we don't know why it happened.

I'm getting bitchy.

At least on the interwebs.

Actually, I think it's less that I'm getting bitchy and more that I am caring less and less about being nice. More easily irritated might be the polite way to put it. I don't go out of my way to be snarky or mean. I just don't sugar-coat or search for the most politic responses right now.

I mean . . . bloody hell. Use some common freaking sense people. Someone asked about their beta and if anyone could compare. Instead of looking it up on betabase, which I am capable of doing, I gave her the website and advised her to google it. That's not totally bitchy, nor is it totally helpful. Someone asked if their sig was too big, and I responded bluntly, 'Yes. It takes up my entire monitor.' Someone made a flippant comment about being jealous over early u/s and I went through a very thorough explanation about why that jealousy was unwarranted. I was called rude and told I flamed her. Which was sort of funny, because as I read it, it was a firm, but still reserved explanation of the other side of the picture.

Lately there have been complaints about people being more outright rude or mean. I haven't considered myself part of that demographic - I don't call people names, I try to keep to points, and generally participate when I have something to add and not just to insult someone - but it wouldn't surprise me much anymore if others saw it differently.

Oh well . . . that's life on the interwebs, I suppose. I do care about being even keeled and compassionate, but I simply find I haven't got the patience to put up with a lot of stupid these days.

I also find less and less patience for false optimism and hopeful responses to the multitude of posts that seem to be cropping up with January moms as they make their first visits to the doctor. There have been several posts along these lines 'I am supposed to be 8 weeks by LMP and I got a positive test on May 17, but there was no h/b or fetal pole. My doc says I just ovulated late, but that's pretty weird. I can't believe I have to redo three weeks! I'm supposed to go back in 2 weeks and see what's going on.'

While one or two of these may truly be a case of mistaken dates and ridiculously early pregnancy tests . . . most of these are going to be early miscarriages/blighted ovums. Because three weeks after your positive pregnancy test . . . you should see more than just a sac. I don't know whether their doctors are trying to be kind and hopeful or if the patients are not hearing the words of warning or what . . . but there are tons of posts in response that say that the poster must indeed have ovulated or implanted late. Which . . . happens, yes. But the dates add up to bleak pictures. It's all I can do not to go in and say 'Well, that is possible and I wish you the very best and hope you see a fabulous baby and heartbeat in two weeks, but honestly, it's probably a miscarriage, because your dates are all kinds of off.'

Or be blunt with someone who has spotting. I usually want to say, 'Bottom line - about a fourth to a third of all women will experience bleeding or spotting in pregnancy. Half will go on to have healthy pregnancies and babies, the other half will miscarry.' I do say that sometimes, if someone asks clearly for honest advice. But the rest of the time, it's so negative that I am afraid it's unnecessarily insensitive.

I just don't have a lot of patience for blind positivity. I do wish these women well and I hope things work out for them. But I can't bring myself to just rah-rah them with well wishes. I'd rather someone were honest with me, and so I loathe being dishonest. But neither do I wish to cause even more grief or worry . . . so I try to bite my tongue.

Still . . . the filter is being stretched thin.

Letter to Chickadee

Dear little one,

Today was your edd. Months ago, which sometimes feels like lifetimes and worlds ago, your daddy and I expected to be holding you in our arms soon. If not by today, then soon. And instead, of course, we learned that that was not to be, and we gave you and our dreams of you up.

I'm sorry that we never got to see you, or hold you, or tell you how much we loved you and wanted you. I'm sorry for regrets we lived through, and for all the pain we suffered when we lost you. But I'm not sorry for the brief experience of you, and being pregnant with you and being your mother and loving you.

I still find it easier to write to you, after all these months, my little baby that never was, than to the baby that very much is, currently growing inside me. I feel more secure with this little one, and every day that passes, the closer we get to moving past when we lost you, I feel better. The nausea that overwhelms me and kicks my ass this week especially reassures me. As afraid as I have been for this little chicken, I feel a peace deep down, and a joy that was not there with you, and an appreciation of our blessing that I would not have were it not for the experience of you.

I still think of you, Chickadee, and miss you - or rather miss what could have been. When I get very afraid, touching your tattoo brings me some peace. But if I'm being honest, loved one, this date crept up on me. I'd known it was coming, but my focus has been so pinpointed on making it past 9 weeks with this little chicken, and on how I am feeling and coping, and just consumed by life in general . . . that I forgot. I was startled to see today's date and a little ashamed when it hit me that the reason it seemed so familiar was because of you.

I think, actually, that it is healthy. Life has gone on, and we've gone with it. We have a new baby to prepare for, one that we love as much as we loved you, and wanted just as badly. This baby will not replace you, nor will he/she live in the shadow of your memory. Already, this little chicken is totally different. I am sad for your loss, but no longer overwhelmed or defined by it. There is a bright spot in our lives, but that doesn't mean you are forgotten.

I haven't been able to write to the chickie yet . . . but maybe that's because this is the letter that needed to be written first. There will always be a place in my heart that is yours alone, but I am fortunate that there is no limit to how large my heart can expand.

We miss you and love you. And we are so grateful for the little chicken that is with us now.

Always -

Mama and Daddy

Well, that's a relief then.

Symptoms abound.

Nearly threw up in the car.

Feel utterly miserable.

Bliss.

Now what the hell do I do about dinner?

A more positive post - cravings

Ok, yesterday, I had the most ridiculous, out of the blue, completely inexplicable craving for astronaut ice cream. You know, the freeze dried stuff that basically comes in neopolitan or cookies and cream and sort of melts on your tongue like baked meringue and that you can mostly find at science museums or middle school dances? Yeah, that stuff. So I immediately went to Ebay and bought a 10 pack. Why Ebay? I remember that one of my favorite sellers sells it - I had to find some when I discovered two years ago that my husband had a horribly neglected childhood and had never tried it before and I haven't thought of it since.

I'm counting the days until it gets here.

And also, much as I want to blame Blair for this, I can't. She spurred me into action, but it was in place before hand. I am dying to go back to The Melting Pot. When we were there over a month ago, we finally tried the oil cooking style (when my mom and I first went, we tried the coq au vin). If you've never been to The Melting Pot, allow me to explain in the brief paragraph following, if you have, skip ahead.

The Melting Pot is a fondue restaurant. Most people have had cheese or chocolate fondue - and they do these excellently there - but like me, had never had meat fondue before. Basically, if you order The Big Night Out, you pay a ridiculous price for a four course meal for 2. The first course is cheese, which they make table side; we've had traditional Swiss each time. I think we'll branch out for the next, but whether it will be Cheddar or Spinach artichoke, I haven't decided. Then they bring you salad, I highly recommend the Ceasar with their parmesan crusted baked pine nuts (or little crispy sweet bits of heaven). Then they bring out a giant-ass plate of seasoned, portions meats. We get the fusion, which comes with pork, chicken, ravioli like purses, sirloin, shrimp, lobster and filet mignon. And veggies - potatoes, broccoli, giant mushroom caps. And you cook it a piece at a time, in a 'style' of your choice - either a broth base with different flavors or in oils and there are tons of sauces to try with it all. Following that, you heave a sigh when they bring you dessert and then you roll yourself out of there. So delicious.

Anyway, as I said before, when DH and I went, we cooked in oil, per my friend's recommendation. And OMG. I can't wait to take my mom back and do it again with her. They bring out batters! And they bring out a green goddess sauce, which you can fill the mushroom cap with, and then you dip the mushroom cap in the batter and you have a fried, stuffed mushroom. And it was divine.

And I've been dreaming about it. And when Blair talked about her birthday plans, it reminded me of my birthday. And my meal at The Melting Pot. And OMG I want those fucking mushrooms again. The rest is good and all, but I NEED those fucking mushrooms.

So I talked my husband into it - he liked it well enough, but it's pricey and he isn't a fan of cooking his own food for that much money, but he loves me and wants me to shut up about the goddamned mushrooms, so we're going this weekend.

I can't wait. I am literally thinking about those damn mushrooms whenever I stare off into space. Oh, and did I mention, I am eating a pickle as I type this? Dill, naturally. Sweet pickles are from the devil.

Feeling fragile today.

I pretty much just copied and pasted the below from a post I wrote on SAL, because it pretty much summed up how I'm feeling today.

I wouldn't go so far as to say I'm freaking out, but the symptoms seem to be declining. My breasts are not as tender or achey as they were, though still full and if I poke and prod them or sleep on them or something, they hurt. My nausea is nowhere near as bad as last week. It's still there, but it doesn't seem constant. Insomnia made a return, and I'm getting much more thirsty than before, and my skin still turns to an oil slick within four hours of washing it, and all that jazz . . . but there are now hours that pass where I don't feel pregnant at all.

I know I should be grateful for those reprieves, and I know it's not uncommon for symptoms to start declining between 8 and 10 weeks, as hormone levels are naturally leveling out, and blah blah blah . . . but we're so close to when we learned the bad news about Chickadee. All day long I've expected spotting to start, and I feel freaked out that symptoms are declining, since they were declining rapidly by this point with Chickadee as my body figured out it wasn't viable.
It's so difficult to remain positive and trust that the heartbeat we saw was in fact a good heartbeat (the interwebs and the u/s tech said so, but most people seemed to be in the 120's . . .) and that this little chicken is still going strong. I'd feel better if I were violently vomiting again, honestly. And my next appointment is 2 weeks from Friday. I wanted to be as far as possible to improve our odds of hearing a h/b on doppler, but now I'm getting worried and scared. My friend offered me use of her doppler when it comes in, but it isn't here yet and I'm afraid to try and not hear a h/b.

It's just stressful. And I'm sort of tired of it, you know? I just want to know things are ok, and no one can tell me that or promise me that even if I could have another u/s in an hour that things would be ok in two weeks, you know?

Walking cliche

My lunch?

Not the nutritionally balanced vegetable soup or chicken noodle soup with orange, fiber bar and yogurt that my DH lovingly packed for me.

Nope. Easy Mac. And plain Pringles if I want them. And Sprite. And water.

Also, I really like pickles. Not like intense cravings for them, but it's one thing I can reliably eat. And DH mocks me every.single.time.

Ridiculous, no?