All made better by the sound of your heart.

Today's ultrasound was perfect. Baby was measuring right on, with a strong heartbeat that was the most beautiful sound in the world. And afterwards, I dragged my husband into Pottery Barn Kids. (Because I felt that he hadn't been sufficiently terrified by the forty-five minute wait for the doctor to come in and do the scanning; the poor guy really needed to see his wife drool over $35 elephant-shaped baby slippers to reach maximum anxiety.)

Relieved doesn't even begin to describe it. I won't unclench entirely until after the first trimester (oh, who am I kidding? I won't unclench entirely until the kid is retirement age) but I am really letting myself feel optimistic now. In a couple of days, maybe I'll even be hopeful enough to buy some elephant-shaped baby slippers. (Dear Lord, they were adorable.)

Seven weeks, five days today and I had my first ever pregnancy-induced barfing episode. I've been feeling queasy for weeks, but this morning I actually lost my cookies. (Or bowl of Crispix, actually. Cross another one off my list of "foods that don't make me feel sick.")

It's also the first time I've ever felt a rush of joy with my head in the toilet. Since morning sickness can be an indicator of a healthy pregnancy, surely achieving an actual ralphing session must mean good news is ahead! (Either that, or I got food poisoning from my mother in law's birthday cake last night. I knew it wasn't a great idea to leave it in the backyard while we went to dinner.)

Anyway, with my first ultrasound on the horizon (Tuesday!) I'll take any reassurance I can get - even if it's of the holding-your-hair-back variety.

Patience has never been my strong suit. I skip to the last page of every book I read before I'm halfway through. Before I see a movie, I look up the plot summary on Wikipedia. When I was a kid, I found Mom and Dad's Christmas present stash every year - and hell yeah, I peeked! So it is completely amazing to me that I haven't broken down and called the OB's office yet, begging for an early ultrasound. After all, I am the ultrasound junkie...

Most of the time, I feel like this is good practice for parenting. I'm sure that the worry never really stops, and I'd better learn to deal with my anxiety now before there's a little person here for me to project it all onto. Someday, be the good Lord willing, this little baby is going to be going off to school... Learning to drive... Going to college... All kinds of terrifying stuff. I don't want to be the crazy anxious mom in tears every time her kid takes a step towards scary, scary adulthood... I want to be able to feel the feelings and let them go. So that's what I'm trying to do here - to trust that even when I can't see it with my own eyes, everything is going to be okay.

But then there are the moments where I'm convinced that this is all going to go south, and I just don't want to know. I want to soak in the joy of being pregnant for as long as possible, and I worry that the next ultrasound will once again be the beginning of the end. And then I squeeze my boobs to see if they're still sore, and I imagine eating chicken to see if I'm still nauseous, and I wonder if anxiety is intuition and then I wonder if it's a self-fulfilling prophecy.

One more week from tomorrow.

Counting days...

Today I'm five weeks and two days along. It's my first thought when I wake up in the morning: I've made it one more day. And then I rush into the bathroom, half-expecting to see blood every time. 

So far, so good though, and most of the time I feel completely serene and accepting and peaceful. This pregnancy just feels so different from the first one. I'm not really sure how, exactly, other than the fact that my every waking moment is not consumed with panic and terror like it was the first time around. This time, I know that worrying won't change anything, and anxiety can only rob me of the joy of being pregnant. But still, sometimes I catch myself googling things like "recurrent miscarriage statistics" and "miscarriage stats by week" and I really have to check myself. 

The first ultrasound isn't until eight weeks this time around. It's only nineteen days away, but it kind of feels like forever. I thought about calling back and begging to come in earlier, but something is holding me back. I want to really try to practice being patient this time. I'd really like to just trust my intuition that all is well. 

To my son, in heaven

Dear baby,

   The Buddhists say you stopped by on your way to nirvana for one last round. You came so you could be there for the incredible moment when tiny fingers blossomed from the rosebud of your shape. So you could be loved one last time in a warm place with no suffering. Your feet never touched the ground; I carried you everywhere you went. I loved you from the day you were made.
   The scientists say that us mothers carry our children's DNA with us, in our blood streams. They tell me what I already knew, which is that I will carry you in my heart until the day that I die.
   Today is the day you were supposed to arrive. I know you're in a better place, baby, but I sure do wish you were here.
   I carry you in my heart, baby boy, and I love you so much.

Mama