I'm glad I exhaled last week because right now it's hard to breathe. We went for the first sonogram of this pregnancy this afternoon. 7 weeks. I've been trying with everything in me to think positively, and why shouldn't I? I've been feeling increasingly nauseous, most all food sounds terribly disgusting and my boobs are still tender. But my heart was scared.
It had every right to be. From the moment the sonogram view was up on the screen, Mr. Mandolyn and I knew something wasn't ok. It took a long time for the doctor to see anything. (Apparently I'm adding disgruntled tilted uterus to my growing list of dysfunctional parts.) Every now and then we could catch a blurry glimpse of a pregnancy sac, but couldn't see anything in it. Nothing. The sac measured 6 weeks. I know that isn't a good sign. So I'm going back next week for another go around. Basically, it doesn't look good, but we're holding onto a sliver of hope. Just in case. Fuck me. The All Time Best Nurse in the world came up to us as we were making the appointment. She gave me a hug, looked at me through teary eyes and said, "I'll pray for you." One of these days I'll let her know how wonderful she really is.
Damn it all to hell, this hurts. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel- how much hope to hang on to versus not setting myself up for disaster. But if that tiny tiny chance is right and there is a baby in there fighting with everything she has, I can't just emotionally check out. Not yet. Most of all, I'm afraid to listen to my heart. It's trying to protect me, I know that...and I know that I'm thinking worst-case scenario, but that's all that I know. I needed good news today. Desperately. I needed to know that everyone else and their "good feelings about this time" trumped my guarded thoughts. I needed my prayers to be answered, to feel like they were listened to. And I don't. I feel empty, angry, confused, hurt...shipwrecked. I need a damn lifevest.