Posted by: laughing4heir | September 6, 2009

Swooshes and wubbles

That’s what we heard Tuesday morning with the nifty doppler machine.

Hubby was finally able to join me for a doctor’s visit.  Since we’re at week 17, I was hoping we’d have an ultrasound, so he could take a look at the baby.  He hasn’t seen it since it was just an amorphous spindle with a beating light that would become a heart, at 7 weeks.  He hasn’t gotten to see legs and arms and face and stuff yet.  But it was another checking-in and listening-in visit.  Which is fine.  I also wanted to make sure he met the doctor who’ll be delivering our child.  He’ll come to as many of these as he can with me.  He didn’t have any questions this time around, but I assume he will as we progress.

We were pleased with what we got to hear:  144 heartbeat and fetal movement.  That was the coolest part, for me.  Not just hearing the heartbeat – though that was awesome – but hearing the wubbly sound of the interference with the doppler was my favorite.  That, evidently indicates the baby moving.  In the 15 to 20 seconds we listened in, the baby moved about 3 or 4 times. I don’t know what average is, but it was music to our ears.  And our doctor again happily commented that we had an active baby moving around in there.

I think – though I still can’t be certain – that I’m beginning to feel the baby moving around in there.  I am still not quite sure whether it’s the baby or whether it’s gas.  The only differentiating factor right now is whether after I feel a bubble movement in my abdomen, I then feel the need to expel gas in some form or fashion.  There have been a few moments this past week – one in particular – in which I have felt with some certainty that it’s the baby.  Every night, Hubby takes about 30 – 45 seconds to place his hands on my lower belly in the hopes that he feels it, too.  But right now, it’s so unpredictable.  I can’t wait until the movement is more predictable and I can share it with him.

I’m pretty sure I feel it move at least once a day.  Yesterday, I was concerned because I hadn’t felt it move all day.  So, Hubby dug out the stethoscope and listened around my lower abdomen.  I listened in, too.  We could hear liquid gurgling noises, which I assume you’d find in anyone’s tummy, be we also heard tiny, arrhythmic knocking sounds.  Since they weren’t in keeping with my heartbeat, and didn’t sound like sloshing, we decided it was the baby moving.  Don’t know if we’re right, but we’re clinging to it.

My pregnancy is now common knowledge.  I’ve told just about everyone I’ll see on a regular or semi-regular basis, as well as those I don’t, but who might be happy to know.  This kind of scares me.  Again, still don’t want to find myself in an “un-announce” situation.  But this moment had to come.  I’m not fitting into my clothes easily anymore – or even with strained difficulty – those who know me will recognize soon, if they haven’t already, that my body is changing; I can’t really hide it anymore, so I’m not going to fight it.  I feel like making it common knowledge is a bold step.  A very scary, bold step.  I’m doing it confidently, now, but inside I still quiver; I still hold my breath.

The strangest thing – or maybe not so strange – is that for as open as I am now about my pregnancy, I sometimes want to tell people that this isn’t just a pregnancy.  That this isn’t just a happy accident.  That this is hard-won and it’s still not over.  And it will probably never be over, even after we’ve had all the children we want to have and they’ve grown and gone on.  Some people, now that I’m basically public about it have said, “17 weeks? Oh, so you’re out of the woods?”  Am I?  Just because I’m past trimester doesn’t take me out of the woods, in my mind.  This little fetus is still so frail and dependent on me.  Though, I’d always thought the same thing.  The other night, talking to a friend after a show, I said all I really wanted was a happy, healthy baby.  “That’s what you’re supposed to say,” she amiably quipped, teasing my political correctness.  But it’s so genuinely true.  Yeah, I’d prefer a baby born in springtime, because I SO hate mid-winter, but by golly, I’m really not going to be picky. After 5 pregnancy losses, all I really DO want is a happy, healthy baby. Hubby wants a happy, healthy baby boy really badly, but I’m really of no opinion on the sex or who it looks like or any of that.  At least not with this kid. It may sound trite, but when you know all the things that could go wrong in a pregnancy or in fetal development, healthy really is all you want.  Just because you’re likely to get it – as most women do – doesn’t mean you take it for granted.  And when you’ve had nothing but failure in the past, hoping for much else feels like hubris.  Mostly, and I don’t know why … I sometimes want people to know how hard-won this pregnancy is so that they don’t take it for granted.  That I’m not just a woman who made love to her husband and this is the outcome.

But I can’t tell most people I know all that.  It’s too weighty and private and reserved for a select few:  those in our closer circle and those who have let me glimpse some of their pain.  Most people have no idea of the far-reaching sadness that recurrent miscarriage carries with it.  (Hell, I’ve been through it 5 times, and I’m still not sure I grasp it.)  Most people can offer their sympathy, but it’s a limited sympathy that you give a friend who’s lost a pet.  I’m sure they’d be sad for me, but they have no idea how miscarriage affects not only my hopes for that embryo, but my self-image, my internal health, my marital health, nor much less my dreams, both for motherhood and career.  It’s hard to make career plans and movements when you’re constantly thinking:  by next quarter I’ll be pregnant and then in a year I’ll have a baby, so I don’t know if it’s worth it to make this risky move.

But I ramble.  I’m 18 weeks, today.  And thus far healthy.  We’ll find out in two weeks how the baby has grown and see if the placenta has begun to migrate to a safer place.  For now, genuinely, I’m really happy and more hopeful than I’ve been since this month four years ago when I first stripped the last Ortho Evra patch off my cheek and we decided to get this experiment going.  I’m actually hopeful that these swooshes and wubbles will quite soon give way to coos and babbles.

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Responses

  1. This makes me so happy. So very happy.

  2. I’m with Kay. I’m so happy and excited for you laughing! 🙂


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