I thought I'd be titling my next post, "Nausea" because that's what I've been feeling, and fighting, for the last few days, oppressive waves of it. Even toast and fruit were no match for it this morning. I thought I would be writing to solicit remedies. But I went to the bathroom after breakfast and found a silver-dollar-sized circle of blood in my underpants, plus more, a couple tablespoons worth, as soon as I sat down.
Adrenaline, it turns out, is the ultimate nausea cure.
I called J~, who'd finished his fifty-minute commute and was just settling into his work day. Ten minutes later, he was on his way home.
I called Dr. A~, who scheduled me for an ultrasound early this afternoon.
J~ drove, held my hand in the waiting room. I felt nauseous again, thanks to a lovely cocktail of nerves, hormones, and carsickness.
There was a heartbeat - erratic, slower (about a hundred beats per minute, as opposed to last week's healthy 150). A bad sign. The gestational sac was flattened, not as round as it had been, which is also a bad sign.
"Unfortunately, there's nothing we can do," Dr. A~ told us. It's a wait-and-see situation.
"Is there any chance..." J~ asked.
"Anything can happen," Dr. A~ replied. But he was not optimistic. He expects I'll miscarry in the next few days.
There's no getting around it. It looks like our baby is dying.
J~ cried in the parking lot. Cried again while he drove. (I had him pull over.)
I've cried my share as well. We've cried together. There will be more tears. Like I said at the top, this is not good news.