The UTI Medicine I have been on has a list of "Seek Immediate Medical Attention" warnings, 3 of which I have been experiencing. Crazy chest burns (I actually googled symptoms of a heart attack), heat flashes, chills, blacking out, and overall weakness.
I was at the doctor's for some time while they tried to figure it out. So far, they aren't too sure but they are checking a ton of stuff including thyroid, anemia, and sugar as well as the basic labs and cultures.
Since my pregnancy is currently already at risk, the first thing they wanted to do was to check on baby. They wanted me to go straight in for an ultrasound, but I asked for the doppler first because I am very against ultrasounds at the current stage of development, let alone the entire pregnancy. Not that I wouldn't love to see my baby, but it just isn't worth the risks to me. And, of course, I was alone during the visit (Caydon was with his therapist, and Luke was no where to be seen or heard for a good while) so seeing the baby for the first time alone and under the circumstances just didn't seem right.
They agreed to a doppler... then I quickly regretted not agreeing to the ultrasound.
We couldn't find the heartbeat for a good while. My heart sank. I have never been so worried. So alone. So afraid... than I was for this baby. Caydon has had his share of dramatic hospital stays but I never thought his life was over; I just thought he needed intense help that I couldn't provide. Thinking that this baby could be in heaven before I got to hear it cry or giggle or coo, or before I got to feel it's deep sigh of skin-to-skin sleep on my chest, feel the bond while it guzzles my milk and looks up at me with milk drool, or smell it's sweet pure breath and honey like skin... I was just a serious wreck.
It's one thing to parent alone. I honestly have been doubting if I am able to do it this time around. The fear of having two disabled kids that I am raising by myself is enough to seriously wonder if I am capable, even though I know how far Cay has come and the fact that I am a sped teacher so I should have more of an "I've got this" attitude. I wonder if it is fair to Caydon to give this baby attention when he still needs so much of mine. I selfishly wonder if all of my hopes and dreams that I have been working towards are over. I would be lying to say that the thought of not keeping the baby hasn't crossed my mind. I would be lying to say that it hasn't been contemplated. Cried about. Then, decided against.
The few minutes that felt like hours while we couldn't confirm this baby's heart were up there on the longest few minutes of my life. I have never felt such a deep, raw guilt.
And then, the heart slowly came onto the doppler. The nurse looked up at my watering eyes, relaxed her concerned expression, and gave me a smile that was so deeply reassuring. My baby has a heartbeat. She or he is still alive. I don't even care what the baby is anymore; I don't care if my baby is disabled; I don't care if Luke is a complete jar of tar; I don't even care if I have to share this baby with who I consider to be a home-wrecking whore (though I, of course, do still have my preferences in all of these matters.)
Caydon is a big brother.
I am a mommy of two.
My baby has a heartbeat.
All is well in the world.
For those of you who have lost a precious life, especially later in pregnancy (though I know how hard it hurts early on, too), my deepest sympathies are with you.