So there s/he is. At 9 weeks 3 days, we caught our first glimpse of Thumper. I thought I would be over the moon and thrilled and relieved and at least for a few days feel more confident about the viability of this pregnancy. Only I didn't. I felt terrified.
Now I'm 15 weeks and we've shared our news with our world. The announcement was met with excitement and hugs. I'm grateful for that - for having friends and family who wouldn't say out loud "Are you insane? You just lost Andrew. What are you thinking?" Maybe they could see those thoughts on my face. And I'm grateful for their support and enthusiasm and reassurances. I'm still scared.
Last week I took my 12 year old to my check up with me. I had heard the heartbeat quickly and easily just a few days before without any problems. I thought having her come with me would help her feel involved. But the nurse couldn't find the heartbeat. She handled it beautifully. She told K. it had to be the silly machine and we'd get the doctor to try a new one. Then he couldn't find it for a few minutes. I spent 10 minutes smiling at K and asking her about school and anything else I could think of so she'd think it was all normal and not something to worry about. Inside I was hysterical. Had she not been there, I probably would have been a complete mess. After a few minutes Dr. L smiled and I realized he'd found it: a strong, loud swishing that couldn't be mistaken for anything other than a happy baby heartbeat. K was so proud to be able to tell her friends that night at Girl Scouts and I was able to relax for a few hours. But by the next day, I was back to worrying constantly.
Maybe it's because we're zeroing in on the time when we lost Andrew. Maybe it's because I don't think we have a clue what we're doing. Who are we to think four children in this crazy world is a good idea? Whatever it is, I'm scared. All the time.