Today we had our first ultrasound. The adorable little tadpole has a strong heartbeat, is about an inch long, and is perfect in every way. We even saw it do a little dance! It was mesmerizing. We’re officially 9 weeks along. Only 31 more to go!
I haven’t written about the pregnancy yet, in a way because I was afraid I would jinx it somehow. That my invoking the words would make it somehow not so. Drew and I tried for nearly two years to conceive. It was a frustrating time filled with questions, tests that gave us no answers, various treatments and lots of worry. Though it was labeled as “unexplained infertility”, I couldn’t help but blame myself. I didn’t really feel like I could talk about it. It was a very difficult period of my life.
We had almost given up when, on Mothers Day this year, I felt the urge to take a pregnancy test. This was a bit odd for me since I hadn’t taken a pregnancy test in months and since my previous cycle was so odd, I was convinced I wasn’t ovulating. I think subconsciously I must have just known.Drew and I of course were THRILLED. Nervous, but thrilled. I set up my first prenatal appointment and we lived our life for a few weeks of bliss. The initial appointment actually went really well. We met with a wonderful nurse midwife who checked me out and said that everything looked great, I was measuring just as I should and answered a lot of my questions. One of my questions though was “why aren’t I getting sick?” I mean literally- I had been feeling GREAT. Other than exhaustion and tenderness, I felt like I always had. She told me a few times that she was sure everything was fine and that some women just don’t get sick. But when I pushed it again, she offered to test my progesterone levels.
THANK GOD I pushed it.
I called the clinic a few days later to find out that my progesterone levels were at 9.5 when they should be around 20. I panicked. The nurse called in a prescription for Prometrium. I had to call her back at least three times so that I could absorb exactly what she was telling me and what the implications were. I was in the midst of finals for class and my busiest time of work. I almost lost my ability to function.
I began the medication and almost immediately I felt a sense of relief. Though I worried incessantly about this life we have so desperately wanted to create, something inside of me kept saying that it was just fine. Morning sickness or not.
Our first ultrasound came exactly a week after that first bit of bad news. Since then we were dying for any confirmation that my intuition was right, that our baby would make it. That this was meant to be. And then I saw that precious creature, that steady heartbeat and I knew that everything was going to be ok. That we were going to be a family. That I could begin writing.
So here we are, balanced precariously on the edge of a great new adventure. 9 weeks isn’t exactly out of the woods, but I’m feeling pretty good.