Wednesday, May 25, 2011

More Pregnancy Scares

So, Monday morning, I discovered I'd bled quite a bit. I filled the toilet with dark blood and went to an urgent care clinic run by Swedish Hospital. Yesterday (Tuesday), I woke up, and I dripped out as I got out of bed. I didn't bleed as much as the day before, but it was still significant, and I was terrified. Andrew took me straight to Swedish Hospital. The bleeding had stopped before we left the house.

Again, they ran tests. This time, they drew vials of blood, did an exam, and did an ultrasound. The ultrasound wasn't as detailed as the one I'd gotten the morning before, but it did let us know the baby was doing well, moving, and had a heart beat of 140. After three hours, I was sent home. The doctor talked to me and told me everything else looks good (my cervix is still closed, but he could see dried blood), but bleeding is not normal. He told me that resting is a good idea and might be able to help, but he also explained to me that everything is basically out of my hands. He said, "Rebecca, if you're going to miscarry, you're going to miscarry, and there's nothing you can do about that." I think that was something I needed to hear, but it was also something I didn't want to hear. I wanted to be told that if I did a certain thing, then the baby would be OK. He couldn't tell me that.

My mom came home with me again to help with Oliver. Poor Oliver has been quite a trooper through everything. He had a really, really rough time learning that I'm not going to be picking him up and carrying him around any more, but he's also really risen to the occasion. That little boy has learned to do so much by himself in a short amount of time. He climbs upstairs when he wants to play up there or get a diaper change, and he climbs back down. When we leave the house, the crawls down the front steps and even has crawled off the curb to get to the car. He's learned to hold my hand while crossing parking lots and has just been absolutely, completely amazing. I can't do as much house work, so I sit on the floor frequently to play blocks or bowling pins with him. He's definitely getting a lot of love and attention, but it's hard for him sometimes. He still holds his hands up to me sometimes to pick him up. I'll sit down and get on the floor with him, and (for the most part) he's stopped crying at this.

This morning, when I woke up, I had a few drops of blood, but it wasn't even enough to change the color of the toilet water. It was a lot less. I felt good this morning. I wondered if I'd torn something, and when I sleep, maybe my muscles relax enough for the blood to come out. A lot less blood is a good thing, and maybe it means the tear is really healing. If so, I'm hoping there is no blood tomorrow (or almost none).

People have been coming forward with so much support. It actually helps a lot. I've never really been in a situation where I needed people to rally around me, but now that I'm here, I feel so loved and cared for. In addition to my mom's help, Colleen (Andrew's mom) took the day off today and is going to watch Oliver. Andrew and I cancelled our road trip/camping trip with Oliver (which was supposed to take place from yesterday evening through Sunday), but he kept his days off to help Oliver adjust and to help me. I've gotten phone calls from friends and relatives--even Andrew's great-aunt called. People have given me supportive messages on Facebook and told me they were thinking positive thoughts and praying for me. While I'm not a religious person, I know that those things really do help people. For example, the "power of prayer" works for people when they know they're being prayed for. I keep reminding myself of all the people who want this little baby girl to make it through. Andrew keeps telling me to picture the end result, so I keep imagining this little swaddled baby being handed to me at the hospital with a pink cap on.

I also keep thinking of how remarkable and impossible it is that our baby girl is here. I think about how my ancestors had to immigrate from Denmark and Germany and Poland and Ireland, and they had to meet and get married and have kids at a specific time to create the gene pool that created me. Andrew's Welsh and Irish ancestors had to immigrate here. His parents had to move back to Denver, and mine had to move to Denver for us to meet. We both had to drop out of our universities and decide to go to community college to meet! Who would have thought that those actions would lead to something so amazing? Circumstances and timing had to be absolutely perfect for this tiny little girl to exist. I think about how she has made it this far, a statistical impossibility in some ways (if you think about it), and I'm determined to meet her. She's made it this far, and I'm going to do everything I can to make sure she gets another five months in my womb to grow and thrive and have a chance at life.

In five months, I want this baby. It's past the first trimester. Miscarriages at this point in the pregnancy are so rare. The worst is over. Now I just need to take it easy and let her body grow.

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