8 and a half weeks along and feeling sick all of the time. We were getting ready for Anthony's synoplasty turbinate reduction surgery at the end of the week (that's a fancy way of saying "break his nose and fix his deviated septum"). On Wednesday morning we were getting ready to go in for Anthony's pre-operative appointments with the Dr. and the hospital. I was nervous. Not just for his surgery though.
The last two days I had woken up feeling fine, no queasy tummy, no sore chest, no running to the bathroom. And it wasn't just the mornings that were different, all day I was feeling better. In a normal mind this would be a good thing, but for me, I was worried. My paranoia had me calling my mom and reading all kinds of things online (FYI- don't read advice online. It's all a bunch of people who don't really know anything and freak you out with their assumptions.) I had read several places that losing preganancy symptoms could be the first sign of a miscarriage. I knew there was no way I could spend the next week taking care of Anthony after his surgery with this kind of looming grey cloud over me. So I set up an appointment with my doctor for later that day.
After Anthony's appointments I told him I could either take him home or he could come with me to my appointment. He immediately got nervous and wondered what was going on. I told him about my worries with losing my symptoms and that since I was already 8 weeks along it was a good time to go to the doctor anyway. We were both scared that we may be getting bad news.
After some tests and measurements the nurse sat both of us down and started going through a checklist of what to expect while we're expecting. The list seemed to go on and on and we were wondering at what point she would get to the part about addressing our concerns we had actually set up the appointment for. She didn't. Instead, the doctor came in next. She was actually the nurse practitioner available that day, not the OB I had seen in that office before. She was very nice and pleasantly reviewed our expected milestones over the next several months. She told us about what our 20 week appointment would cover, tests we need to decide if we want, and if it's a boy, whether or not we would consider circumcision. All the while Anthony and I were giving each other worried glances wondering to ourselves, "does she know why we're really here?" After over an hour of instructions we finally spoke up and asked for the ultrasound to make sure everything is okay now....before we plan too far into the future. The doctor agreed and we started the ultrasound.
You know how in the movies, when the main character is going through a dramatic climax, they slow the shot down and everything goes in slow-motion? Like the moment is so intense each second lasts forever. I can't say for sure, but I think I may have held my breath while the doctor searched through the squiggly blackness on the screen and struggled to find anything. My heart started to race and my palms were sweaty as Anthony griped my hand tighter. Then...there on the screen...was our little peanut and the blip blip of his beating heart.
"Strong heartbeat," said the doctor.
Relief washed over me and I turned to look at Anthony. All the worry, all the emotion couldn't be contained and he started to cry. This of course was more than I could stay composed over and I started to cry too. As we both sobbed out loud and wiped streaming tears from our eyes I asked the doctor, "this is normal right? Couples usually cry when they see this first ultrasound?"
The doctor replied, "it's usually just the mom that cries, but you guys are so sweet I can't help but cry too." And she wiped tears from her own eyes.
We all laughed. And she printed off the picture of our healthy lil' peanut.
