No heartbeat. The doctor said that from the ultrasound (and he only used the portable since I hadn’t made an appointment for the super-duper machine, since they normally don’t order that until after the first prenatal visit) things looked promising as far as yolk sac and size of things goes, and that it looks to be around 5.5 to 6 weeks along. So, let’s have another ultrasound in 10 days, he said, and then we’ll know. But I already know. I already know that things should be nearly 10 weeks by now, and if I was grossly errant in my charting then maybe things would be 8 weeks, and with that, there should be a heartbeat. By their numbers, since LMP was May 20, I should be over 13 weeks. But there is no heartbeat, so how can I take heart to what he said and not worry until next Friday, at which point I will know?
I know that worry does nothing but make things worse. I know that despondency will do nothing for me, if, by some miraculous chance, there really is a 5.5 – 6 week old fetus growing inside me. But all the numbers just don’t add up so how, how, how can I be anything but devastated?
So today I feel sick to my stomach, but that’s emotions and not morning sickness. I’m fairly certain.
Feeling oh, so old, wondering how much longer these 42 year old ovaries will hold out, and if I will ever be able to have another healthy child.
Crying buckets of tears.
Bracing myself for what lies ahead.
Hoping that if miscarriage is inevitable, it will wait another two weeks, so that I will have time to schedule a D&C before going through that horror of horrors again.
