Heartbeat!

Yesterday was a big day. We saw the heartbeat!

Look! A vague tiny blob!

Okay, now that I've done the obligatory "wow!", I can tell the truth. Because this is my blog and I can whine if I want to.

The actual heartbeat appointment was very, very anticlimactic.

I feel guilty even writing that, because I know I should be grateful beyond belief to have a growing little embryo, and believe me, I thank my lucky stars each and every day. I thank the universe that after all my failures, luck finally shone down upon me. I tam thankful that I had the money to pay the ridiculous costs involved in this (buh bye, the better part of our savings from four years of marriage), the perseverance to keep moving forward, and the support from my husband to do donor egg.

BUT all that being said, I had a shitty visit to the clinic yesterday. I was so nervous that my knees were knocking when I got onto the table, and they made me wait a long time. Then the nurse practitioner came in, followed by a woman I'd never set eyes upon before. She apparently was an ob/gyn fellow, and had never given a transvaginal ultrasound before. Lovely. She messed with the wand a lot (ouch...) and had trouble using the controls. She showed me the heartbeat, at which point I burst out into relieved tears, but then she commented in an off-hand matter how "next week we expect it should speed up." Ummmm??? Are you saying it's not fast enough now??? I never did get a straight answer, except she also told me the measurements lead her to think I am a day behind (though she also said that doesn't matter, this early in the game).

In fact, she was having such trouble with the machine that the appointment quickly became all about her, and nothing to do with me and my husband. In fact, she even asked B to turn off the video camera, because maybe then she'd be better able to find the heartbeat again (uhhh, are doctors supposed to get performance anxiety still???).

There wasn't much more to it. They said "congrats" and told me they'd probably see me back in about a week. At which point I felt about to cry. I was under the impression that it was one ultrasound and then I'd be released.

Later, my friends reassured me that two or three are normal. I guess I was really jumping the gun, thinking this was my last visit to the clinic. Thinking I'd not be "high risk pregnancy with a history of infertility" for much longer.

The heartbeat checkup, therefore, was very anticlimactic. The little flickering light was cool, but it was sadly overshadowed by the doctor's incompetence, her offhand worrisome remarks, and my growing anxiety as the appointment went on. By the end, I had convinced myself there was something wrong.

Of course, nothing is wrong. My doctor in Atlanta told me the scan is excellent, and I'm right where I should be. I go back in two weeks for another one, then a final one at 10 weeks, and only then am I released. Another friend confirmed she had FOUR scans before being released, so I can relax now and the gratitude is seeping back in.

All of this is just so very hard. You think a positive pregnancy test is the end, but it's not. My friend who got pregnant the old fashioned way has a first doctor's appointment at 10 weeks. By ten weeks I will have had three beta blood tests and three early ultrasounds. I will have survived being "high risk" and I will have poured thousands of dollars of progesterone and estrogen into my body. But, I will have a baby. I need to calm down, breathe, and try to enjoy this period of my life. Somehow.