Well, that explains the dry heaving two nights ago and the recent bouts of nausea.
I am…dumbfounded. Shocked. Thrilled. Terrified.
While I could never wish away my memory of Hope, the prolonged experience of losing my first baby is a deeply profound one…and one that tempers my optimism. I know all too well how easily this all goes wrong. And I hate that I can’t easily back away from that line of thinking, focus on the positive, blah blah blah.
I am who am…and part of who I am is a deeply neurotic control freak who has no ability to really control what is developing in her uterus. This is one of those times when I contemplate my broken relationship with religion…it feels like it might be easier if I could put my faith in a higher being…but it’s not who I am.
I’m obviously still going to the appointment on Wednesday, and with a number, hopefully I’ll have a good understanding of how things are progressing. As I didn’t ping a test until today, one assumes I’ve only recently reached an hCg level of 20 or so (the standard threshold of pee tests), so I’ll want a count of greater than 40.
Weighing in on the side of cautious optimism is that I’ve been nauseaous as hell recently, which is a very GOOD sign.
Welcome to my uterus, small one…you’re already deeply loved and wanted. Please stay and grow for the next 36 weeks, and then I will hold you in my arms the way you are already held in my heart.
Damn pregnancy hormones making me weepy while I type this. (insert fake gruffness)