This is the eighth post in a special bi-weekly series. It's a sequel to The Longest Weekend of My Life series. Please check back next Saturday for Part 9.
Part 8: Normal?
Life seemed to normalize for the most part after I'd had my break down and gained some perspective. The bleeding had turned to spotting, and in all it had only lasted a week.
I consulted with my midwife, who said that the bleeding could have been any number of things. She said my body could have been trying to have a period even though it was pregnant, or it could have been implantation bleeding. I asked when implantation usually happened, and she said at 9 weeks. I said “but my bleeding was from 6 to 7 weeks” and she told me my dates could have been wrong. I hated that. I had been told with my first pregnancy that my dates must have been wrong, and it felt like a slap in the face. When I've been writing things on the calendar, tracking every single date, they have the nerve to tell me I was wrong? I had to let it go, and realize that even though I had been tracking everything, my body might not have been doing what I thought it was doing when I thought it was doing it. Apparently I didn't know my body as well as I thought I did, and that was a discouraging thought as well.
My midwife wanted me to move forward with the pregnancy as though everything were normal and healthy, and I just felt I couldn't do it. Emotionally, I couldn't act like everything was fine when deep down I was still worried. Yes, the worst seemed to have passed, but I still didn't really know whether or not I was still pregnant. She wanted me to come to the monthly forum at her house, when I would be only 8 weeks along. There would be no hope of getting a heart beat, even with a hand held doppler, at least until 10 weeks or more, and I saw no point in going through the motions until I had some kind of proof that things were still OK.
I was feeling occasional waves of nausea, but they were mild and at odd times. Most of the time the nausea would hit just after I'd eaten a good size meal, and it would pass within a minute or so. I was also feeling tired a lot, especially in the afternoon and evening, accompanied by great bouts of grumpiness. More than one night I would lie down with my youngest 2 children to help them fall asleep, and end up falling asleep myself hours before I intended to go to bed. This was common for me in early pregnancy, but I was still nervous to really believe I was still pregnant.
My husband had turned inward. When we talked one night about the situation he told me that he couldn't even think about the pregnancy without considering all of the possibilities, which scared him. I understood how he felt, because I was feeling the same emotions. However, I felt alright talking about the situation, and felt that in some cases it was helpful for me to do so. We had agreed early on that I could talk with whomever I felt I needed to, and he would deal with it in his own way. The hard part was that I felt a disconnect with him because of this. The closeness we had felt just a week or so earlier had turned into a chasm. I felt that chasm wouldn't close or be filled until we had more information, and according to what I'd been told, that would take at least another 2 weeks to get.
