A tiny bit of hope

We had our follow up appointment today. Just before we left, MS grabbed me, gave me a hug and said: “Don’t worry, everything is going to be okay. I won’t let the bad guys get you.” I had to laugh and smile. He really does make me feel better.

I went into Dr. Fine’s office and sat down, miserable. I was just reliving the last time I was there and going through all of the horrible things she was going to say, the difficult decisions and options we would be faced with. I was holding it together okay, trying not to look at all the baby magazines and pamphlets around the office, when in walks an adorable pregnant woman pushing a stroller with an equally adorable little baby boy in it. Everyone else in the waiting room smiled and gushed over the cute baby, which is what I used to do too, but I couldn’t even look at them. I almost burst into tears but I didn’t, and then the little boy turned around and grinned his cute baby grin at me, and I felt nothing but happiness and smiled back at him.

We were called in and Dr. Fine weighed me and I jokingly told MS he wasn’t allowed to watch this part, and then noted that on the bright side of all this I’d lost 4 pounds since last week. Dr. Fine was surprised that I was in better spirits. Better from sobbing uncontrollably isn’t that remarkable, but yeah I was doing better. She told me she wanted to do one more ultrasound and then we’d discuss options in her office.

She started the ultrasound and took a long time looking around. She had me hold my breath several times and acted like there was something interesting going on. She finally said that she thought she saw a flutter. I smiled bitterly, trying not to let my hopes jump up and my heart cling to that tiny bit of hope. But of course I did. She continued to search, magnifying here and there, sighing, frowning, and wondering aloud. Finally she called in her father, who is the other OB in the practice. He was less hopeful but admitted there was a flicker of some sort. She said it could either be a heartbeat or my pulse from blood flowing to the area in preparation of a miscarriage. She told me not to give up hope yet, and that there was definitely something going on and she didn’t want to schedule a D&C or medically induce a miscarriage if there was a slight chance there was something there. A similar situation happened to her with her daughter, and she turned out fine.

So she recommended we give it another week and a half, which I’m fine with. Since the first appointment, I’ve been researching D&C’s and they just don’t sound like something I want to do. It’s not that I’m afraid of surgery or pain, but, since there is a chance of complication, I don’t want to risk my future fertility just to get it over with a little sooner. I can be patient and wait for my body to take care of this, or we can medically manage it. Either option sounds better than a D&C unless it’s absolutely necessary. So, I was going to ask her if I could wait a little longer anyway. Now I’m waiting with the potential that there will be some miraculous growth or surprise awaiting us the next time we go in. I am not sure how I should feel, but I feel totally at peace. I accept that if this pregnancy is viable and meant to be that we will know and are in the right hands to take care of it. If it isn’t, I am already prepared for that and have already been told that twice, so hearing it a third and final time cannot be that much more traumatic than the past week has already been.

No matter what happens, I’m not going to hear anything worse than what I had already believed and accepted. It can only be the same or better. So now I’m just working on being patient and putting my hope in God to show us the right outcome for this pregnancy and our family, whatever that may be.