It's out of my hands

 I just need to get to 8 weeks. That’s what I told myself when I found out I was pregnant this time around. I sat on the floor a sobbed. Out of fear and worry, but also out of gratefulness. I took a cheap pregnancy test every single day for months. Once I get to eight weeks I will feel better is what I told my self.. 

10 weeks rolls around and my doctor’s appointment comes. My doctor and I worried because we couldn't find the heartbeat on the doppler. I waited there for 2 hours while we talked, searched for the heartbeat and finally used the portable ultrasound machine. The room was tense. We both felt it. On the ultrasound we could see my baby was doing barrel rolls in there. He wouldn't sit still long enough to grab a heart beat or measurement, but we could see his heart flickering. 

Then 12 weeks rolls around. Our 12 week ultrasound was when we learned our baby had no heartbeat. We just have to make it through this ultrasound, then I’ll feel better.

Our 12 week ultrasound was PTSD. I walked down the same hallway, but this time full of fear instead of excitement.

Phew 12 weeks came and went smoothly, thank goodness. I thought all fear was gone. But it wasn’t. 

I was ridden with anxiety and depression and contacted my doctor. He brought me in the same day (thank goodness) and asked how he could help me. We heard the baby’s heartbeat and he sent me home, trying to give me some piece of mind but it didn’t last long. 

Let me get to 16 weeks and then I’ll feel okay. 16 weeks was a roller coaster. We confirmed our Baby’s gender on the same day of our angel baby’s due date. Man was that hard. We walked into the ultrasound terrified. Thankfully, Dylan was able to come to this ultrasound becauase we went to a third party. 

Next up, 20 weeks. We had a few good weeks. Our spirits were up, we thought all was good. 

Then, at 22 weeks we thought my water may have broken. I spent the night in OB triage. Thankfully, we were okay – we went home, happy and healthy and my water still intact. 

What have I learned? That a seemingly well pregnancy doesn’t “cure” the worry after a loss. I wont stop worrying until the moment I’m holding my crying baby in my arms. I debate going in to OB Triage about once a week. Why? Anxiety, worry, uncertainty. This pregnancy is out of my hands, just like the last one.