Yesterday I had another ultrasound at 8 weeks 6 days. Baby measured 9 weeks 2 days and had a heart beat of 184. It resembled a little gummy bear, you know, that classic ultrasound image I never thought I’d see, that so many of us never get to see.
It was also the first week I made it to the ultrasound without thinking I’d had a missed miscarriage.
So I am getting close to that time where I am going to wind down the “p” posts. I just need to see the results of that Harmony test in a few weeks. Not that it’s a sure thing after that, but it’s enough that I will be able to tell my family.
Next week is my last appointment with my RE, and then I graduate to my OB on the following Monday. I unfortunately was not able to get an appointment with my OB directly, but with a midwife, so I am nervous about that. I like my OB and she’s size friendly and doesn’t get doom and gloom about my weight.
I think I will maybe create a pregnancy blog, for posterity, and link it to here. But this won’t be defunct, not yet, because I’m not done talking about infertility or pregnancy loss.
It’s crazy because I am 9 weeks today and that is still really early but it’s the furthest I’ve ever made it and I’m in the home stretch of the first trimester. And since I found out at 8 dpo I’ve known for 6 weeks which makes it feel longer.
When I made it to 9 weeks last summer, I felt like I’d been pregnant for so long already because it was a constant wait and see the entire time. And things looked bad the entire time. I took out those old ultrasound pictures last night and it made me feel so sad. That would have been my daughter born this past February. We never saw more than a smudge, even at 8 weeks. I feel sorry to her that she didn’t get to be with us.