Two Phone Calls, One Good, One Bad

The first weekday after taking the positive test, I was ready to call the OBGYN first thing to schedule our appointment. I wanted to hear the little guy’s heart beat. So all morning I thought about the “proper” way to tell the doc’s office I was pregnant. Does it sound silly if I claim I am, with absolute certainty? Shouldn’t they be the ones telling me I’m pregnant? Should I show my excitement when I say it? Should I tell them it was on purpose? Should I request the appointment, then say why? Or should I casually try to work it into the conversation? I practiced. Not in the mirror or anything, but I practiced.

So much fretting. All of it unnecessary. When I got through, I mustered up the most casual tone I could, and said, “I know I’m not due to come in until May for my annual appointment, but I took a positive pregnancy test and needed to come in sooner…I think…er…right?” So they said the earliest I could come in would be in two weeks, when I would be 9 weeks along. March 10! And that was it.

Then a few days later another phone call, but this one not so fun. I had some “spotting.” So of course, I was worried. It sounds so simple…just a little spotting, pish posh. But when it’s happening to you, believe me, it is not pish posh. My mind and Wally’s immediately turned toward doom. We tried comforting each other by looking online (Dr. Wally, studying at WebMD) and in books (my 479-page Dr. What to Expect), but while my at-home diagnosis made it sound okay, his made it sound terrible. Then I started finding bad possibilities, and so we decided to just call the actual doctor. The one who who went to medical school. And has years of experience diagnosing these things.

I got through to the on-call midwife, and held it together (barely) while I explained the situation. She sounded comforting and grandma-ish, and said it’s probably fine. As long as I wasn’t cramping or having what was like a menstrual cycle, we shouldn’t worry. She said I should increase my water (WHAT? I was already drinking 2 quarts or more a day, but okay), and that it could last a few days. As long as it wasn’t too much, it was okay.

So we sighed (sort of) and felt better (sort of) and waited. I haven’t written the past few days because we’ve been a little more tempered with our thrill. Light spotting lasted. A little here and there. We prayed a lot. One day I was mid-thought about something else entirely (a rare moment), when a thought that was not my own said, “Don’t diagnose it, Mollie, you are not a doctor.” That, I believe, was to help me stop running through all the negative possibilities in my head. It was still lasting yesterday. So we still were worried, and I decided to call again today if it still was worrisome. But to our happiness, no need. Today, it seems to have let up.

The most difficult part about all of this is not knowing, even with all the info available in books and online, what for sure is happening. I want to know with certainty that our little baby is okay. My only “signs” are a few pregnancy symptoms, which I assume mean that everything is coming along. But that is not enough right now, as it’s not the baby communicating. So I can’t wait for the first doctor visit, the ultrasound, where I hope to hear that little heart beating, our baby’s little tin can, sending up a message, “I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay.”

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