On the eve of ultrasound #1
August 5, 2013 § 17 Comments
I’m going to make this short and sweet.
I have had a really optimistic and joyful week. All of your words of encouragement the weekend before last were not for naught. I took them and I wrapped myself in them and I swallowed them and here I am. So, thank you.
This week was all about how I have no control over what is going to happen with this pregnancy. And how if I continue to be paralyzed with worry, I will be doing nothing but forcing myself to experience heartbreak overandoverandover again every day amen, whether or not it is warranted. And how I deserve to enjoy this and to be excited and to feel happy and lucky and warm. And, you know, puppies and all baby animals and pasta and blankets and wood stoves and tea.
This is not to say that I have not had moments or hours or half days of worry.
They’ve just all been covered in a blanket of this sense that everything is going to be okay. Which may or may not be the case, but somehow I’m making myself believe it. At least about 50% of the time (which I’d say is pretty good). 15% of the time I’m sure there is nothing in my uterus but an empty sac and the last 35% of the time I have successfully distracted myself from all thoughts baby. (The only things that seem to successfully serve as distractions are actually physically being in the room with patients and also watching mindless and horrible television on netflix.)
Anyway, I said short, right?
My first ultrasound is tomorrow morning at 8:15.
I know I will be anxious and it will be visible. I can picture my hands shaking and my heart pounding. And that weird buzzing in my ears and that feeling of being a bit disconnected from myself. My self. At my clinic, they are kind enough to have two screens for the verrrry fancy looking ultrasound machines, one right in front of the nurse or doctor and one (a nice, big one) right over my head and slightly to the left, angled down for a perfect viewing. But I imagine that I’ll have the heels of my palms pressed firmly over my eyes. And I’ll stay that way until they say, “there is it, Lentil. it looks great.”
(I’ve been practicing some visualization, can you tell?)
Much love to you all. I’ll check back in soon. xo and signing out.