Yesterday we went in for our 11-week checkup and learned that our baby had died. The heart stopped beating. Mine too I think.
Not too much to report, other than that the nausea and headaches been constant and unforgiving. And the DREAMS! I feel so exhausted every morning when I wake up, because the whole night has been fraught with complicated narratives and long-forgotten memories. Vivid images from summer camp, lyrics from songs I haven’t heard in fifteen years–it’s like my childhood is unfolding again before my eyes.
I had my first prenatal visit with an NP on Monday. I had a little wriggling hope that she might try to Doppler me, but it was just an hour of questions: Do I smoke? Am I depressed? Have I had a flu shot?
Then she plopped a 200-page booklet on pregnancy and child-rearing on my lap, and I began to feel a little overwhelmed as I flipped through it. There are so many things to consider! In-rooming, breastfeeding, natural delivery, etc. etc. I feel like anything beyond the first trimester still feels a little unreal.
We have our nuchal translucency scan and 12-week ultrasound scheduled for June 3. My wife and I were at first a little unsure whether we wanted to do any screening at all, but my parents had a daughter with spina bifida before I was born, and as the weeks go by I feel a little more nervous and want to be prepared for anything.
Other than that, I feel crappy most of the time, exhausted and sick, but with this underpinning of excruciating joy. It’s a bizarre feeling. I tear up at everything in the world, which I just now realized is SO beautiful.
Also, my belly has started to poke out down low, over my uterus, though I’ve actually lost 6 pounds. My wife made me a little nest in her office so I could take a nap on the floor during my lunch break today. Life is good.