You know what? I'm angry.

I'm angry that the clot thing happened. I'm angry that I was ripped out of the place of peace I'd reached, and that the happiness and lack of fear I'd finally found are taken away. I'm angry that the baby only measured 8.5 weeks, and that I have to relive that stressful period of the end of 8 weeks and the beginning of 9 weeks all over again. I'm angry that I can't just take comfort and be relieved to know that the baby is ok.

I'm angry that I couldn't see the h/b on the u/s myself and that I didn't get a good look at the baby - it feels like relying on someone else's words. I'm angry that the ER staff might think I just wanted another u/s or something. I'm angry that I was starting to feel good and feel ready to work out and now I am not supposed to. I'm angry I have 4.5 weeks until the end of first tri, not 4 weeks. I'm angry that my calmness is shattered and that I am back to feeling total terror and analyzing every single thing.

I'm angry that the ER said threatened miscarriage and that my history could mean things weren't ok. I've never lost a healthy baby. In fact, I've always been told that my body is very good at hanging onto pregnancies, even well past their expiration dates or abnormalities. It's been one of the few comforts of this pregnancy - thinking that as long as everything was ok with the baby, we were in the clear. Now, it's in the back of my head that my body may not work the way it should and may betray us into a miscarriage or pre-term birth. I'm angry that they put that thought in my head and I'm angry that I can't get it out. I'm angry that I am now overanlyzing every twinge and cramp and feeling of pressure, with a sick feeling of waiting for the cramps to become regular and for the contractions to start which will end this all.

I'm angry that I don't think I can adequately explain how terrifying that very big, very red clot out of absolutely nowhere (I was napping, ffs) was, and so it might seem like I was overreacting. I'm angry that the terror won't go away. I'm angry that I'm back in a scared, frightened place and that this time, I don't know when I will come out of it. I was out of it before. And now . . . I'm not.

It's bloody fucking infuriating, actually. I feel so helpless and so fragile, and I'm fucking livid that that was thrust on me when I was finally feeling strong and secure. I want my peace back, but instead, I'm examining the toilet paper closely (still some light staining) and googling to find info about an open cervix (which I don't recommend, as it's pretty grim overall).

We were supposed to be celebrating our making it past the minefield date at lunch today - and filling my cravings - and instead, I'm reliving that fucking time again and I don't want to leave the house, honestly. I just want to curl up in a ball and cry.