~ And Then There Was One
We took the final 3 1/2 hour drive to my RE's office on Tuesday to get our second ultrasound and have my final infertility records transferred to a doctor here in town. My RE set me up for the ultrasound and there on the screen, my little show-off Baby A popped up right away. The doctor turned on the sound and turned up the volume and we heard the unmistakeable beat of the baby's heart! I had expected it to be more of a swishing, pulsing sound but there it was plain as day, a very fast little thump, thump, thump. I could've listened forever, I was so proud!
Then the doctor found Baby B and there was no sound. He turned the sound off to try to get a view of the heartbeat first but it was obvious; where there had been a little flicker of light just four days before, now there was nothing. My little Baby B measured so much smaller than the other baby that the doctor explained it just wasn't growing right and that even if we had found a heartbeat that day, it most likely would have just been a matter of time before the inevitable happened. My heart was broken. We knew from the beginning that the purpose of transferring two embryos was not to have twins, it was for this very reason: if one didn't make it, there was another one to increase our chances of having one healthy baby. We got through the rest of the appointment and some more blood draws at the lab then went to grab some lunch before starting the long drive back home.
It's hard to swallow a lunch with a lump in your throat and a hundred pound weight on your heart. I choked down a salad and didn't eat much of anything else for the rest of the day. I didn't cry until I was woken up as usual needing to pee at 4 o'clock in the morning and remembered through my sleepy fog that now there was only one. I tossed and turned until 6 am then got in the shower, grabbed an apple on my way out the door, and headed to work in a horrible mood. I was busily trying to focus all my attention on my work when I suddenly realized I wasn't just sad, something was wrong. I felt clammy and shaky, I had to swallow hard every 5 seconds to avoid drooling on my desk, my heart was pounding, my stomach. . . and that's when I jumped out of my chair, ran down the hall, and just made it to the restroom in time to wretch out what felt like all of my internal organs! I'm so glad the other girls hadn't come in yet. About an hour later, I drove 10 minutes home to throw up again in the comfort and privacy of my own home and then drove 10 minutes back to try to finish anything that absolutely had to be done for that day.
After I ate a small snack I felt well enough to quickly grab the things my mother-in-law needed at Costco and the grocery store although I came pretty close to having to pay a visit to their restrooms, too. When I got home I was able to eat a bigger meal and take a nice long nap and I actually woke up feeling so much better.
It's the strangest feeling to be so sick to your stomach you can barely function while at the same time searching desperately for the nearest place you can get something to eat quick. And just like that, with all the classic selfishness they are famous for, Baby A reminded me, "I won't be ignored. I don't care how you feel or what happened to anyone else. I am still here and I need to be fed!" And I fell in love with my baby a little more.