Alive and kicking!

Jesus H. Christ what an emotional rollercoaster. Our baby looks great. I was TERRIFIED, afraid to look and see a crumpled-up baby, afraid to close my eyes and hear nobody saying anything only to open them to see “that look” on a doctor’s face.

I looked and saw a creature resembling a baby who was kicking its legs and wiggling around. It was really, genuinely cute! I started to cry and didn’t stop (okay I took short breaks) for a good hour. The RELIEF and joy are indescribable. I don’t think I even realized how worried and afraid I have been. I SO did not want to figure out how to tell my five-year-old son that our baby died for the third time (knowing myself that it would be OVER-no more pregnancies, no more torture.) I so did not want to go through another deadbabynightmare. I so did not want to get sloppy drunk at Thanksgiving because I am full of grief and bitterness. I did not want Christmas to be ruined again, by the taint of another pregnancy that ends disastrously. There are so many awful things that I did not want to be set in motion today and none of them happened. I walked back out of that place with tears of joy streaming down my snotty face.

It is such a gorgeous day here and I cried all the way from my appointment. I cried when we got home because I think maybe someday we can bring this baby home in a carseat instead of a little box of ashes. Maybe I won’t have to move my maternity clothes out of my drawers for the third time in a year. Maybe we will bring home a live baby to this house that we only moved into 18 months ago. Maybe I’ll get to feel this baby kick me. It seems possible now and I cried because that is scary and because it is possible.

I cried because my baby is ALIVE.

I can’t thank you enough for your messages, curse words, good vibes, prayers, worries, and love. At the risk of sounding corny, I feel all of you with me. I so appreciate it. Thanks for riding the rollercoaster with me. It’s a little less terrifying because I’m less alone this time. I'm so grateful for each of you.

P.S. The spotting has tapered off to a brown-tinged discharge. After I started cramping yesterday, Rocket Man came home and I was practically immobile for the rest of the day. By bedtime, the spotting had almost stopped. The doctor was reassured by it being brown and not red. No evidence of a blood clot like with my daughter. It's probably time to try not to lug my 25-lb maniac of a daughter around so much.
Maybe I should lay off the housework too. As if.