TW: Miscarriage

You've been here before. The waiting. The wondering. The little voice in your head that whispers 'what if..' 

Last time ended in loss. You never knew you could experience such excitement, swiftly followed by such grief. 

You resist at first. "I'm not going to think about it," you resolve. "It'll be healthier that way." 

Four days later you're peeing on sticks. 

You know implantation doesn't usually occur until six days after ovulating. But maybe you'll see a faint line. You know you're torturing yourself, but you can't stop. It's all you can think about. The little voice in your head is now painting fantasies of chubby cheeks and sleepless nights. But another voice promises heartache and waking up surrounded by blood. 

And then it happens. You swear you see a line. You post pictures on reddit. "Tell me you see it too!" Strangers on the internet confirm your greatest desire.

You're pregnant.

Time seems to slow down, he hangs up his hat and takes a seat. You stare at your test, tears dripping down your face. You're so happy and so scared. "Please... please." It's a prayer. You know there is nothing more you can do. It's out of your control. You know what it feels like to be betrayed by your own body. You're convinced it'll happen again. You've spent months and hundred of dollars working to heal your relationship with yourself. "It wasn't my fault." Those words still don't land in the way Dr. Lopez wants them to. 

In spite of the fear, you can't wait to tell your partner. You ruminate on ideas. "Should I plan a fancy dinner?" "Should I hide the stick in a drawer for them to find?" In the end, your impatience wins. The second they walk through the door, you're sobbing again. You're showing them the two little lines that mean so much. They can't believe it.

The next few days you're a blur of equal parts anticipation and dread. You continue testing and watch in marvel as the line gets darker and darker. You call your doctor. "Am I nauseous?" You wonder excitedly. The threat of misarrange looms like a war memory you can't escape. 

You know stress isn't going to help things. But stress feels like your dearest companion at this point. You don't ever want to feel out of control again. Stressing and reading the forums and tracking every symptom feels like control. Your partner doesn't get it. "You need to relax babe." You try to relax. You try so hard that it doesn't count as relaxing. "I want to tell my friends," you say impatiently. In all honestly you want to shout it from the rooftops, and also bury it so far down nobody could ever find it. "12 weeks, just wait till 12 weeks." 

Your first doctor's appointment arrives. You remember the steps. The blood draw. The urine sample. Then it's the ultrasound. You hold your breath. "Please." The prayer again. You repeat it like a mantra. You feel the cool gel as it hits your stomach. Time comes to sit by you again. You stare at each other. 

"There it is!" The ultrasounds tech exclaims. "I know it doesn't look like much at this stage, but that's your baby. You see that flicker? That's the heartbeat. Let's take a listen." 

You remember the galloping sound from the last time. A horse, racing through a field. It's the best sound in the world. 

You sit in the exam room, waiting for your doctor. For the first time you feel filled with real hope. You let yourself dream of your baby. Of holding their tiny hands, and watching them sleep. Smelling the top of their head while they snuggle on your chest. 

"I've had a bit of bloating here and there, but nothing crazy. My boobs have been sore. I haven't had any spotting, and I think I'm starting to feel bouts of nausea. That's a good sign, right? I've heard morning sickness can be an early indicator of a strong..." you trail off. A strong fetus? A strong baby? 

Was your other baby not strong? 

"It sounds like everything is progressing normally," the doctor says, the sounds of her keyboard clacking. She knows what you went through, but she doesn't know. 

"I'm worried it will happen again," a whisper. 

Your doctor looks up at you. "I won't lie to you. There is always a possibility. Once you're out of the first trimester, the risk becomes much less. You're eight weeks now, so just take care of yourself and we'll see you in four more weeks."

You never made it to twelve weeks last time. It was the evening. You were sitting on the couch laughing with your partner at something on the tv. You were ten weeks two days pregnant and so joyful. Miscarriage felt far away. Like you knew it was possible in the same way you knew it was possible to win the lottery. You felt some cramping, but didn't think much of it. A few hours later you were bleeding. The cramping much worse. The panic hit you like a semi truck. 

"Maybe everything's fine," you thought frantically. But you knew the pain you felt was not fine. You called your doctor and they told you to come in. One hour later you're getting another ultrasound, but the horse is gone. 

You want to make it to your next appointment. You want to make it to all your future appointments. But for the moment, you just really want to make it past ten weeks two days.

You find the best strategy is to distract yourself. You rent books from the library. You facetime your family and makes plans with your friends. None of them know about the constant dialogue that's always under the surface. "Am I still pregnant?" "What if it happens again?" 

But time passes, even when it feels like it won't. You make it to ten weeks. You make it to ten weeks one day. Your partner takes work off and you spend the next day eating at your favorite restaurant and going to the movies. 

"I don't feel any cramping." "I haven't had any spotting" 

And then you're past it. You're more pregnant than you've ever been. Each day feels like such an accomplishment. 

It's the evening before your twelve week appointment. You're so excited to see and hear your baby again that you can't fall asleep. You lay in your bed, listening to your partner's breathing. Everything feels perfect. 

Your doctors office feels slightly different. "Was that door always there?" You brush it off. Must not have noticed it last time. Your partner is with you, holding your hand. Once again you feel the cool gel hit your stomach. Time is there, but he stays in the corner this time, watching. And then you hear it. The sound you've been waiting for. Your little horse is still galloping. 

The galloping begins to blur into another sound. A beeping. You open your eyes. A dream. Your alarm is going off. You reach over to grab your phone when you feel it. A sharp pain in your uterus and a slickness between your legs.