Limbo

I am now nearly 13 weeks pregnant. I can see the second trimester just over the horizon and I'd sprint there if I could. I keep hearing about the second-trimester burst of energy and not only could I use that, my family would be really appreciative of having mom back instead of this lump of boring who is able to do just enough to keep things going but isn't able to really get into anything.

But a couple of weeks go, it was a different story.

At 10.5 weeks pregnant you're in limbo.

If you're me, you start to look dumpy in your regular clothes but refuse to move on to maternity clothes because it may jinx the pregnancy.

Most of our family and close friends know I'm expecting but it's not out there on Facebook for all of the masses on the interwebs to comment on.

In full limbo mode, I went to the OB's office for the big 10-week work up. This is the long Q&A with a nurse detailing both my husband's and my health histories. This is the third time we've done the work-up. I'm not at all sure why the nurse needs to know about my husband's grandfather's health history or how it pertains to the baby, but here we are.

She drops husband in the room and takes me to the scale. Down 4 lbs, BP was 114/62. Yippee! She then asks in a whisper: “I'm going to ask you some very personal questions. Is there anything you don't want me talking about in front of your husband? We can talk about it now. History of STDs? Abortions? “ I assured her that I had no secrets and we went to the room to get started.

15 – 20 minutes of boring questions asked by a disinterested nurse. When we got to my pregnancy history she went from disinterested to insulting. She couldn't fathom why I differentiated between my miscarriages and a woman having an abortion. The conversation went something like this:

Nurse: How many pregnancies have you had?

Me: 5

Nurse: How many living children do you have?

Me: 2

Nurse: How many abortions have you had?

Me: Zero.

Nurse: Okay, then, um, how many kids do you have?

Me: I have two sons.

Nurse: And you've had 5 pregnancies?

Me: Yes.

Nurse: And no abortions?

Me: No, I've had two miscarriages. One at six weeks. One at 9.5 weeks. I have never intentionally ended a pregnancy.

Nurse: Oh, okay, two abortions.

Me: (sitting on my hands to not throat punch her)

Now, I understand that in medical coding a miscarriage is an abortion. I know that they code my ultrasounds in the 1st trimester as “threatened abortion” because I have a long history of miscarriage. But, word to the wise, abortion in the general world means something else.

That cleared up, the nurse continued her dry, droll questioning. Husband & I are honestly just happy to make it to this point in pregnancy and we're trying to be cheerful and engage her in conversation.

Then she says:

Okay, I'm going to go get the doppler and we'll listen for a heartbeat then you'll see the doctor.

Right. Now, I know that at 10.5 weeks it's unlikely we'll hear one. I have a big tummy and scar tissue from two c-sections. I also know that not hearing one will send me into an anxiety place that I'm not interested in being in. Remember, I'm in limbo and I'm the mom who has been on the wrong side of statistics several times in my pregnancy life. After forever, the nurse comes back in with the doppler and for 15 agonizing minutes tries to find the heartbeat. Nothing. I knew this. I expected this. I hate this nurse. She says:

Oh, there's nothing to worry about. Everything is just fine.

Husband responds:

“How can you say that? You have no idea if everything is okay.”

“Well sir, she is really early to hear anything on doppler”

'Yes, but she has a long history of miscarriage. We just talked about it. Don't say everything is fine. We have been on the other side of fine before.”

I fall in love with my husband again for confronting the nurse and acknowledging our miscarriages.

The grumpy nurse takes us to yet another room and says the doctor will try but again, everything is fine.

I sit in silence for 10 minutes. Fuming. Angry. Hating my scar tissue for blocking the doppler. Hating my fat tummy for blocking it. Hating my husband for calmly playing on his tablet like nothing was wrong. Hating limbo.

The doctor comes in. She'd helped deliver G and was happy to see us again. She says she's gonna give it a shot on the doppler. She means business. She presses gently at the top of my growing tummy and squishes everything up a bit. She searched for less than 3 minutes.

There it was.

The reassuring whir of a baby's heartbeat on doppler We were able to get it for about 10 seconds...  baby's heart  was beating at 151 beats per minute.

I wanted to kiss the doctor.

I feel out of limbo, but I'm still not ready to switch to maternity clothes just yet.