It’s hard to know where to start when telling a story like this. Where’s the beginning? I guess the beginning is really four years ago when we started trying to conceive our first child. But for the purposes of this blog, we’ll get to that later.
Our current situation actually began on Thursday. I woke up – feeling just fine – at 14 weeks, 1 day pregnant. I walked Littleman, my two-year-old son, to daycare and took the subway to work. I had my breakfast, chatted with some colleagues and then got ready to start my day. I popped into the washroom for the first of my many daily pee trips and that’s when everything began to go horribly wrong. When I wiped, I had some pink spotting.
Now, I’d had a tiny bit of spotting with my first pregnancy a couple of years ago. At that point, I’d been further along in the pregnancy and the spotting was brown. An ultrasound showed that nothing was wrong and the spotting was unexplained. This time, it was bright pink and seemed to scare me more. I immediately left a message at my OB’s office, explaining what was going on. Then, I spent the next half hour or so deep breathing and trying not to cry or freak out. Spotting can happen for no reason, right? Look what happened last time! Everything was just fine!
The OB’s office finally called back to say that I was scheduled for an ultrasound that afternoon. I knew I couldn’t wait around at work, so I grabbed my coat and bolted out of there as quickly as I could. I made it home without having a complete meltdown on public transit (barely) but couldn’t hold it together once I was inside my house.
To make matters worse, my husband, D, was busy renovating my parents’ laundry room and had all their water disconnected. He didn’t have time to get everything back in order, so he asked my mom to take me to my appointment. As long as I had someone there with me, I figured I’d be fine.