I started spotting after we got home from the doctor's office. As if I wasn't worked up enough already, of course. The doctor had told me to expect a bit of bleeding, since he'd been fiddling around in there quite a bit between the Pap smear and the ultrasound and everything, but seeing it sent me over the edge anyway. First thing in the morning, I called the OB-GYN's office and begged to come in for another ultrasound to see if I was miscarrying. 

My husband had to work, so I made the journey myself. This time, I was bypassing the doctor's office and heading straight to the ultrasound lab. Maybe their machines were better, I thought. Maybe they'd take a look and say, "Oh, honey, your baby isn't behind... the doctor's portable machine just couldn't give him a clear look! See, here's your healthy little bean. And wow, what a heartbeat!" 

In reality, the news was a little more mixed. The bean had caught up an extra day - it was now measuring 6w1d when it should have been 7w1d - and his heartbeat was relatively strong at 115 beats per minute. They couldn't figure out where the bleeding was coming from, but my cervix was closed and everything looked fine, so they sent me on my way. I was starting to feel pretty optimistic. The bean was catching up, his heartbeat was in the normal range... maybe this would turn out okay after all. 

Around the middle of my ninth week, I started to feel like my pregnancy symptoms were fading. I didn't have a lot of the classic ones - I felt a little queasy in the mornings and evenings, my boobs were sore and I was pretty tired, but compared to many other pregnant ladies, I had it really easy. So when I realized that my boobs felt totally fine and I wasn't even a teeny bit barfy, I started to worry. The nurse at the OB-GYN said, "It's pretty normal to have fluctuating symptoms, but if you'd like to come in for a reassurance scan, we can fit you in this morning." 

"Yes, please," I said. I never say no to an ultrasound. 

I got there a little bit early. It was a nice day out, so I walked around the neighborhood for a bit and talked to the bean. "Okay, buddy," I said, "It's time to get your picture taken. I want you to stretch out really big and show everyone how big and tall you are! Get that heartbeat going, too! Come on, kiddo, let's do some jumping jacks!"

This scan was even more confusing than the last one. The bean was still there, still alive, but now he was measuring ten days behind... and his heart rate had fallen to 111. 

"That's not good, is it?" I asked the ultrasound tech.

"Well, sometimes they rest," she said. "Your doctor will call you to discuss everything soon." 

My husband had left work early to come meet me, but he hadn't arrived until after the scan was finished. I met up with him outside the subway and relayed the news. He was much more optimistic than I was. "The baby is probably just sleeping," he said, "It'll be fine, honey. Our kid is a fighter."