I hit the 12 week mark last Saturday, which basically means I was able to start breathing again for the first time in 3 months. They say you’re supposed to be in somewhat of a safe zone after you make it to 12 weeks, so I’ve pretty much been fist pumping my way through the first half of this week. Huuuuge sigh of relief.
(I promise I’m normally quite jolly and do smile with my teeth on occasion.)
So yes, I was feeling great until yesterday morning. I went to the bathroom and —MEN, LOOK AWAY NOW— I noticed I was having a little bit of a bleeding problem. HELLO. Cue the pregnant woman hysterics. And this happened, seriously, 10 minutes after I posted this little bit of joy on Twitter:
I knew I wasn’t imagining those flutters, but what perfect timing mother nature has, right? I was a confused, terrified, blubbering mess, wondering if those were the first and last little movements I’d ever feel from this baby. So. Many. Tears.
My nurse was able to get me in a few hours later, did a check up of my lady business and said everything looked pretty normal, but that I do need to be taking it easy for a while. That’s all I will say for fear of making you all gag and run for the hills, but just know I’m fine.
She also listened for the baby’s heartbeat and COULDN’T FREAKING FIND IT, so naturally, there was more crying. I was sent to get an ultrasound, which normally means !!!!!!!!!BABY!!!!!!!!!!!, but this time was more like …!?…!????:(
I held my breath as the ultrasound tech started working, and again, started crying when I saw this sweet thing do a big jump:
Baby #2 is just fine. Thank God.