Five weeks

22 Oct

So we made it to five weeks. Just.

The bleeding stopped for a day or so and joyously started up again yesterday, right when I was starting to feel better about things. The good news is that I finally made it back to my regular GP who, bless him, sent me off for more blood tests this morning, plus a follow up test on Monday. The best thing about seeing my regular GP, aside from the fact he’s a really nice guy, is that he’s been Ry’s doctor since birth and knows that both of us are anxiety freaks who, when lacking information will fill in the blanks, together, with the worst possible outcome.*

So now I’m waiting for the call to see whether all this cramping and shit has actually affected the pregnancy at all or whether it’s just my body playing mind games with me. I only have to wait a few hours thanks to the bright orange URGENT  sticker the pathologist slapped on my report after telling me my symptoms ‘didn’t sound too good’ as she ‘had a miscarriage and it’s just awful, isn’t it’** and so would know. Worse still is that because the bleeding just started again, even if these results are good, I’m not really going to know anything until we do another round next week. So I have a lovely weekend of panic planned. I might even dabble in a bit of depression. I’ll have to see if I can slot it in somewhere.

In other news, I also found out I’m o-negative. Which I didn’t even blink at when I was told, until Ry did a double take this morning and informed me I’d need some extra injections. Apparently if I have a positive baby, and our blood gets mixed up in either a miscarriage or during birth, my body will produce antibodies that will go out armed with bazookas and blow up any future progeny The Boy and I might have. Apparently my mum is o-neg too, and had these same injections. She didn’t seem too worried when I told her, but then I remembered the horrible birth stories about hemorrhaging and nearly dying in the births of all three of her children and figured I should probably start panicking about that now too.

I know I have some (OK, a lot of) anxiety issues, but I honestly didn’t think pregnancy would be such a challenge. I expected to get pregnant and be all excited and joyous and have an easy time of it all with a bump and a baby at the end. It’s been five weeks – I’ve only known for one of those weeks that I was pregnant – and already I have exhausted myself with worry. I can say I’ll be happy once I hear the heartbeat, but I know that when I do, I’ll be hanging out to make it to 12 weeks. Then 20 weeks. Then I’ll start freaking out about birthing complications. Then about the baby stopping breathing when we get it home. Or whether that fever is something to worry about. And I’ll be all like ‘OMG it sneezed! Quick! We have to get it to the hospital, like, right freaking now!!!’  And The Boy will be all like ‘OMG, you need to calm down, woman’ but will be internally diagnosing it with meningococcal or something equally as morbid.

Anyway, after all that ranting I finally have the blood test results. They look good. I still have to go back next week for a progress check, but at least I get a few days of relative calm! And with his usual humour my doctor has suggested I cross my legs, hold on, and get The Boy to organise me an early ultrasound so I can stop harassing the hell out of him.

* Yesterday morning I convinced myself I had pre-eclampsia. Of course I don’t, it’s way too early. But with the cramps and the lack of peeing, it was the most logical thing my entirely illogical mind could come up with. By evening I’d gone back to my old favourite, miscarriage.

**What is it about pregnancy that brings out the worst in people? I know you’re just trying to be nice, but I don’t want to hear stories about your miscarriage/horrendous birth/5 week olds hospitalisation. I want to hear about how everything always works out just fine and dandy and that you saw a unicorn at your birth it was that fantastic. But I don’t want to hear about your birthing orgasm. That’s just crazy talk.


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