burnt toast life

hello, my name’s Amanda, and I’m addicted to ultrasounds

***Sorry for the long intros lately, but you can always rest assured that any post without the word “fucking” in the title has a semi-happy ending. Don’t worry.

I’ve figured out how I’m going to make my millions. Ready for this? Four little words: At. Home. Ultrasound. Machine. My market would be primarily infertiles wanting the constant reassurance that their little bean was still growing, and also any unlucky ladies who suffer from prolonged first trimester bleeding. It would have a giant, idiot-proof heart rate monitor that would immediately light up and say, “CALM DOWN YOU CRAZY BITCH, YOUR BABY’S HEART IS STILL BEATING.” I mean, really. In this day and age, shouldn’t there be an app for that?

I called my OB/GYN this morning and as usual, they were not as concerned as I was. They didn’t have any appointments but offered to schedule me an ultrasound at the hospital’s outside lab. I thought that was very nice of them. The nurse warned that they would not be able to give me results at the appointment, but would rather call them in to my doctor, who would in turn call me. In my mind I was thinking, “I’ll just cry and scream until they tell me what’s going on. I’ll refuse to leave.” She said sometimes they will point out the heartbeat, but it just depends on who I got. So I spent the entire day hoping I had a compassionate, caring person who wasn’t into the particular torture of not telling me whether or not my baby had a heartbeat.

The doctor’s office called a few minutes later and also requested that I go for blood work, just to make sure that was all OK. I thought that was a little odd (doesn’t the ultrasound show you more than blood can?) Apparently the doctor who I usually see requested it, and I winced at hearing her name. She specifically told me to wait a few months before getting pregnant again (she’s the one who did my D&C). I haven’t seen her yet, but I’m fully expecting a scolding when I do see her again. Especially now with all my issues. I can’t even pull the, “Oops, didn’t mean to!” I suppose I could say, “Oops, I accidentally got this embryo injected into my ute! I thought I was just getting a pap smear, dammit!”

Truth be told, I couldn’t have imagined surviving the weekend without seeing the heartbeat again. I have negative things associated with ultrasounds at New Hope, not to mention it’s particularly awful to hear your babies are dead when you’re two hours away from home.

Furthermore, I am starting to despise the term “spotting.” Spotting sounds so innocent, so light, so carefree. It sounds like a dab here and a pinch there and tra-la-la-la-la. When people ask me if I’m still “spotting,” I want to say, “No actually, I’m flowing. I’m running like the damn Mississippi River. You could go kayaking.”

I’m being dramatic (what else is new?). While Tuesday evening and Wednesday were pretty flow-like, by Thursday morning the blood could be classified as spotting, I suppose. It came and went every couple of hours. That’s equally frustrating, however, because every time I felt I was in the clear and dried up, it would suddenly start again. But from now on I insist we call it bleeding when that’s what it is. So I’m here to say that first trimester spotting, first trimester flowing and maybe even first trimester gushing (there were moments) still does not necessarily mean it’s the end of the world.

My ultrasound tech at the hospital was approximately 14 years old. I had to refrain from asking Doogie Howser if she herself was menstruating yet. Whatever. She was very nice and chatty and did offer to point out the heartbeat if and when she saw it. She scanned for what felt months and then pointed out the faint, faint flicker on the screen. I was watching her like a hawk and she typed in the letters HB on the screen… then she erased it. I said, “Why did you do that?” in my best stern voice. She replied, “Oh, because I was done.” I couldn’t help but feel like she was lying. She made me hold my breath several times so she could “verify the heartbeat.” I’m thinking, if you have to look that hard to find it, is it really there? She was so smiley and happily chatting that I couldn’t imagine the news was bad. Wouldn’t somber news require a more somber tone? Or was she just a crazy bubbly person with no empathy? She specifically said, “I can tell you if I see a heartbeat, but I can’t comment on whether it’s too fast or too slow. You’ll have to wait for the doctor for that.”

Next, Doogie promised I would get to speak with my doctor on the phone before leaving the building. Again, very nice of her. She said as she was leaving me in the waiting room, “The heartbeat is there, it just might be too slow. Your doctor can tell you more.” Despite her promise of letting me talk to someone before leaving, the front desk people shooed me out before I got the phone call, so it was all just messing with my emotions. As usual.

I was sitting in the waiting room to get the blood work when Eric called to say that one of his good friends, someone who had been at our wedding, someone who Eric had just seen the day before, was found dead this morning. No one knew how or why. I was in shock and just wanted to get home to him, but was stuck waiting even longer to get a beta after a non-reassuring ultrasound. Did I mention I’m not supposed to be stressing out?

The nurse from my OB/GYN called about 30 minutes later. I felt a bit of relief at hearing her voice, knowing that for positively dire news the doctor would call me personally. She confirmed what Doogie had been hinting at all along – Baby Toast’s heartbeat is slower than they’d like to see. Oh, they also confirmed that I do have a subchorionic bleed (or subchorionic hematoma), so that’s the likely source of the bleeding. Basically with one phone call she got me to stop worrying about the bleeding and start worrying about something completely new and frightening – a slow fetal heart rate.

If you ever get this particular diagnosis, DO NOT GOOGLE IT. My first hits included such gems as “fetal mortality rate of 60%” and the like. There were also plenty of success stories of heart rates that magically went from 87 to 150 (or whatever perfect is) in as short as a week. Sigh. I don’t know. The ultrasound was supposed to be reassurance for the weekend and now I’m more freaked out than ever. Lots of women of the interwebs are quick to point out that 6 weeks is so early to make a call on it, but I’m also remembering how nothing was said at my appointment on Tuesday. So are things getting worse?

I have another ultrasound Monday at New Hope (my third in a week’s time) and then my OB/GYN scheduled a “viability ultrasound” for Thursday. It even has to be in a special room. I think that will officially puts me at ultrasound addict status. On one hand my heart is swelling with pride at how much of a drama queen this little girl is (just like her mama). On the other, I’m effing terrified. As usual.

even more drama in toast-land

I’d love to tell you that the bleeding stopped, but so far it hasn’t. It’s been on and off since the ultrasound on Tuesday eafternoon, and at this point I’m about ready to lose my damn mind.

I woke up last night at 3 a.m. and totally lost it. Sobbing, begging God to please let me keep this baby – the whole nine yards. I had just been woken up to the worst sore throat, so much nasal congestion I could barely breathe, no voice (from the sore throat) and you guessed it – more blood. I’m laughing at the thought of being freaked out over a teaspoon. I’ve basically had 6 periods in 2 days and I’m seriously wondering how there could be anything left in there.

On top of that – sore throat. Yeah. This is exactly what happened last time and what I’m assuming was the reason for my last miscarriage. My immune system is freaking out and I have no idea what I ate or drank that made it so mad. Yesterday I had no appetite at all so I literally just had strawberries, bread with butter and some leftover chicken and veggies. Water and seltzer to drink. So… it’s the berries? I don’t know. Part of my 3 a.m. pleas with God included promises to eat only the plainest, non-sugary foods in existence and drink water from here on out. I know I had joked about doing that before, but I was being so careful and not reacting to anything, so I thought all was well. Then I hit 6 weeks and it was like a light switch went on in my body. I have no idea what I’m reacting to. The good news is that I’m so stuffed up and miserable that I don’t even feel like eating. (And lest you think I have a sudden coincidental summer head cold, I will tell you that I woke up this morning to a clear throat and nasal passages, just with a bit of a croaky voice. I know with 100% certainty that the throat, the congestion and the head fogginess are bizarre reactions to mystery food allergies).

I spent a long time Googling subchorionic bleed and the possibility of them causing miscarriage is 1 – 3%. I read a lot of testimonials from women who bled and bled for weeks and went on to deliver healthy babies. Despite the fact that the ultrasound tech would not commit to this diagnosis, it’s the one that makes the most sense. The fact that I actually saw Weird Gray Mass with my own eyes is comforting, because I know that is the likely cause of this bleeding. To be bleeding this much without that ultrasound would be torturous. But still. No matter how much I’m reassured it could be normal, to see that much blood coming out is a major mindfuck.

This is going to sound awful but I need to say it anyway. I’ve been realizing today how much more attached I am to this baby than I was to the twins. See? I told you it was awful. I was wracking my brain to figure out why and came up with the following:

1) I was very naive while pregnant before. I truly did not believe anything could or would go wrong, so I didn’t feel like I had to bond with them so early. I thought I had all the time in the world.
2) This girl is a survivor. Out of two embryos, she’s the one who stuck. She’s tucked way up in the corner of my ute and I just picture her holding on for dear life (literally). Her little heart kept beating even as I bled. She’s super tough.
3) I feel some modicum of control over the outcome of this pregnancy since I have a good guess as to what went wrong last time. You know, despite the fact that so far I’m failing.
5) The psychic. If I don’t have that… I don’t have much at all. I know it sounds so ridiculous but that prediction has kept me more sane than anything else over these past couple of days. I keep telling myself that I’m going to have this beautiful girl in February. I have to believe that.

This post is all doom and gloom, so here’s a funny story. You’ll recall that there were no maxi pads in the house but since my body has decided to bleed ALL THE BLOOD, I needed something. Despite the fact that the doctor did not request it, I put myself on bed rest and was confined to the couch. That’s why my dear husband, who has never been given this errand before, got sent out to procure maxi pads. He was freaked out but all in all was a good sport about the whole thing. He insisted that he had to buy a Gatorade, too because he couldn’t just buy maxi pads. I asked if the cashier was male or female and he said, “Male, thank God.” I find that funny – if I were a cashier and saw a man buying feminine hygiene products, I would feel a swell of pride and compassion for him. I would think, Wow, what a good guy she has. But to each his own, I guess.

He also picked up dinner from our favorite little grill down the street and I ordered my favorite thing on the menu. But when I ate it, it tasted gross. I’m happy. That means my pregnancy hormones are still kicking in high gear. This morning I was eating my food allergy approved breakfast of fried eggs, a plain baked potato and water when I suddenly felt that pang and thought, I’m going to throw up now. I ran to the bathroom, retched a few times, then came back and finished my breakfast like it was nothing. I have to say, I didn’t throw up at all last time and this little episode made me feel really good.

I called the doctor today, but of course their office is closed for the 4th of July holiday. I didn’t want to call the emergency hotline; I don’t really think it’s an emergency. There is no surgical way to correct this problem. The recommended remedies are bed rest (doing it), blood thinners (taking them) and trying to stay calm and relax (attempting it). As the dishes and laundry and dog hair piles up around me, I’m just doing my best not to move around or think too much.

I’m going to call my OB/GYN tomorrow morning and see if they want me to come in again. Maybe someone else can look at Weird Gray Mass and tell me more definitively what it is. I know you’re all probably reading this whole thing thinking, Damn, this doesn’t sound good at all, she’s probably losing the baby. But I just keep thinking how big that mass was and how much blood it may have contained. I keep thinking about that heartbeat that I saw. I keep thinking about all those stories I read about pregnant women bleeding for weeks and going on to have healthy babies. I keep thinking I’m supposed to have a baby girl in February.

Despite my attempted optimism, I would appreciate all the prayers and good thoughts you have. I’m very nervous. Thank you all for your comments on my last post. I’m very sorry that I don’t have better news to report today. Here is what Baby Toast looked like on Tuesday:

hanging in there

hanging in there