Tomorrow I’ll be at six weeks. I started bleeding this morning and haven’t stopped. I’m terrified and sad and exhausted. I spoke to my doctor. Because Friday’s test results showed that my levels are so high and indicate a healthy pregnancy and because the blood is brown and not accompanied by any pain (other than usual pregnancy discomfort), he isn’t concerned. He is keeping his fingers crossed but is hopeful for a positive outcome.
I’m scared because I went to the gym yesterday for the first time since finding out. I’m scared that’s what caused this. That I did this to myself. To it. Even though the doc said working out was fine. Even lifting weights.
I scheduled the ultrasound last week after my first appointment with my new OB. Unlike ultrasounds during my last pregnancy, I’ll have the results immediately. There won’t be any waiting, though my doctor said that if anything is horribly amiss, the ultrasound doc will call him.
We could potentially see the heartbeat or it may be too early. We will most definitely see the sac.
I don’t want to go through all of this again. I want to be at 16 weeks or 20 weeks. When we know the pregnancy is fine. The baby is fine. There are no genetic abnormalities. I want to know that kind of peace. I want to be able to scream from the mountaintops* that my husband and I are having a baby. For so many reasons. I’d like to be able for my dad to meet his fifth grandchild. I want to see my sweet, handsome husband hold our child. I want to be at the 10th ultrasound (or however many one has) where you can actually see the baby and not some weird blipping thing on a screen.
And, selfishly, I want to do all of the baby/pregnancy material that I’ve been working on. And I want to experience the adventure of having a child. I think of that godawful movie “Up.” Damn those Pixar movies for which I’m consistently unprepared unemotionally.
If I’m really being honest, I want to be a mom. I wouldn’t have said that five years ago and certainly not ten years ago but today, I’m as ready as one can be, I hope. I’ve started cooking again. Nothing fancy but I’ve fed us a few times. I eat healthily. As insecure as I am, I’m more confident in myself at work, in comedy and in my relationship. I know myself a bit better. I’m not necessarily any more forgiving of myself or others but God knows I try.
I felt like a failure when I miscarried. Getting pregnant again so soon afterwards does make me feel like less of one. I just want this so very badly.