Hiccups

Hiccups can feel like earthquakes. 

After blood tests confirmed that C and I were both pregnant, waiting and guessing began. Two embryos had been transferred to her, so how many had successfully implanted? Would either of us miscarry? Would either of us PPROM? What did the next weeks and months hold for all of us? 

It did not take long for C to indicate that she and her partner both believed that she was carrying twins. She was not feeling well early on in the pregnancy, and her HCG levels were so high, that it seemed the most likely outcome. And, I adjusted quickly to this idea. We had transferred that many embryos because we want a big, growing family. And as illogical as it might seem, it felt good and exciting. Neither of us have a history of miscarriage and the embryos were of good quality. I was not overly concerned with miscarriage, but was anxious to see heartbeats, as is always done around 7 weeks through ultrasound with fertility clients. 

So, around that 7 week mark, EllaGrace and I drove to Ottawa to meet C for ultrasound. The staff were unaccommodating and generally unhelpful; it was not the magic moment that I envisioned. The technician confirmed two singleton pregnancies; we were both carrying one baby-to-be with a heartbeat. That puts the odds of a successful pregnancy pretty high. I remember C looking at me and asking if I was not excited. I know I was disappointed to see that only one embryo had implanted in her, but I think more than anything, I was scared. There is no going back once there are heartbeats. I was in this come hell or high water. I reassured her that I was pleased, which of course I was, but that might have been overpowered by my fear; heartbeats simply meant heartbreak last time.

Our fertility clinic in Toronto seemed particularly keen on ultrasounds and had in fact requested three during the first trimester. This seemed excessive to C and I both, but we each attended one more. C's went well. Mine did not. My second ultrasound revealed a subchorionic hematoma. Basically a blood clot between the placenta and the gestational sac. My midwife gave me the information, indicated that it was described as small, and that SCHs generally self-resolve and are inconsequential. I questioned if I should expect bleeding and she agreed that this would be a possibility. I behaved as calmly as I could while we spoke, but the moment we were off the phone I turned to Google and Facebook while my heart raced. My fears were confirmed: SCHs increase risk of PPROM. It does not matter how much, how often, how big the SCH has to be. I am already at risk for PPROM, that is why I have C. But, this basically told me that my likelihood of experiencing PPROM was even higher now. I contacted my fertility clinic, I spoke with my nurse practitioner, and they each offered the same information as my midwife had: that a small SCH is not something to worry about. In the medical world it is a hiccup. In my world, it was an earthquake. I cried. I told my husband, close family and friends. Some cried, some offered encouraging words. Many of us were more scared, in what was already a scary pregnancy. 

When I think back to the first trimester of this pregnancy, it is the SCH that comes to mind. It is the heightened fear. It is reading that someone compared blood to sandpaper in terms of its impact on the amniotic sac. I remember the fear in my chest and my guts. And then the concern of the impact of anxiety on the pregnancy. With my Aunt's words in my mind, I would lie in bed with my hands on my abdomen and take deep, full breaths, imagining them as peaceful, healing breaths being sent to the baby-to-be. I tried not to be pulled into all the negative thinking which is so easily done for me since Maggie and Patrick died. 

Ultimately, I never bled. The following ultrasound revealed no SCH at all. It self-resolved, as predicted. For once, I fell within the norm! In my mind, my level of risk returned to my original status (15-30% chance of recurrence). Something I would have to live with, hopefully for nine full months. And, I always have C... 

xx