March 11, 2005
Yesterday afternoon, I wrote the following email to Zoot:
I have to say, I think I am getting better about the doomsday scenarios. A few weeks ago I couldn't even FATHOM making it to the second trimester, and now I'm less than two weeks away from it. I couldn't imagine ever hearing the heartbeat on the doppler, and now I'm listening to it every day. So a lot of the negative thinking has to go away because this pregnancy keeps on amazing me by its mere ability to go on EXISTING.
"HAAAAAAAAA," said the universe.
I started spotting last night. Bright red blood followed by pinkish smears every time I went to the bathroom.
SCENE, STORCH HOUSEHOLD, 8 p.m.
Amy: *bolts out of bathroom* SPOTTING. MY GOD NO NO NO.
Jason: *hurls self off couch* OH MY GOD NO NO NO.
Amy: *curls self on couch, puts throw pillow on head* OH MY GOD NO NO NO.
We're very good in a crisis, no?
After a few minutes I put my head back together and got out the doppler. And of course, it took 20 minutes to find the heartbeat, by which time I was more than a LITTLE HYSTERICAL. But it was still there, and still at 160 bpm. The pinkish smears were clearly not causing the baby any kind of distress, UNLIKE ITS PARENTS, who were still officially Losing It.
We spent the rest of the night curled up on the couch, looking glum, calling our parents and wanting them to fix everything, glaring at the super-pregnant wife of the one boxer on The Contender who already has FOUR CHILDREN, which NO FAIR and me freaking out over every possible twinge or stomach gurgle that could possibly maybe sort of be a cramp. And of course, examining toilet paper.
(By the way, Jason and I are very private married people. We do not pee in front of each other, ever. It's just one of the million ways we keep the romance alive, you know?)
Not last night. Last night it was me peeing, Jason hovering, me holding out pinkish toilet paper for us to both stare at and sigh over.
I seriously hope to have the opportunity to guilt trip this child about this indignity someday.
Anyway. Fast-forward to today. The spotting seems to have stopped; no real cramping ever started. Heartbeat still thumping at 160 bpm.
I am still sooooo not buying it. I'm going to my OB at 2:20 ET today for a check and probably an ultrasound, and not getting out of bed in the meantime. Except for more peeing, hovering and examining.
(On the plus side, Jason is most certainly not going to Atlantic City this weekend. Hell freaking no.)
Although I'm feeling a little less sure about shopping for maternity clothes now. Damn.