Today is a milestone for me. I have been pregnant many times. But only in two of my previous pregnancies did I ever make it this far. Today, I am six weeks pregnant. This should be enough to make me happy, to bring a smile to my face, to assure me that everything is going to be okay. Insteady, I am being assaulted with negative thoughts, convincing myself that this is going to end badly.
Where did my good attitude go?
I woke up this morning, convienced that Tuesday's scan will reveal nothing but a dark and cavernous womb of death.
I know, I know.
I have tried the logical approach to this: two healthy embryos, two great betas, a third beta that was okay if not perfect, RE's office is not worried, and I am increasingly exhausted, not a speck of spotting, in spite of my obsessive-compulsive checking. I mean, come on, there has to be something in there, right? Right?
But the little gremlin thoughts come creeping out when my positive side turns its back for a nanosecond. This is how that other chain of thoughts goes: that third beta didn't double, must be vanishing twin, not really any nausea, despite the fact that in my last pregnancy, I was already experiencing some by this time, boobs are sore at all, and who am I to actually think this could work?
There should be a law against making people wait this long for their first scan.
GSW of 2008:
Breasts tender, but only if I push at them, which makes it a question of what is making them tender?
Once again, no appetite at dinner last night, although ravenously hungry this morning
No real nausea
Crampy feeling this morning, kind of dullish and on and off
And of course, the negative thoughts, which I am not sure, but could be a symptom. . .
Just two more days to go.