Saturday, April 29, 2006

Has hope left already?

I have been away with no access to a computer or the internet. It's been killing me without my lifeline and only the securely pregnant Mrs Precious to inform and lecture. But more about that later.

We got home on Thursday afternoon, exhausted from the hours of travel we had done in the past two days to get back. Friday was my 7 week 'viability scan'. The very name of it has kept me uncertain this whole time, as well as feeling
completely normal beside Mrs Precious' sick and self-imposed fragile state. I was hungry - sure. And tired. Breasts growing and sore(ish) - sometimes more than others. But an undercurrent swamping me ... there should be more.

Mrs Precious: I'd be very surprised if you didn't get sick too.
StellaNova: Why?
Mrs Precious: Because you're so old.

Gape-mouthed and speechless, I simply looked at her and laughed. I wished I had never told her, but spending extended holiday time with another couple made it difficult to act in privacy. I ususally love a glass or three with company and good food - it was very obvious that I wasn't. On reflection, it might have been easier than I thought - Mrs Precious was only noticing, thinking about, and talking about herself.

Continue conversation: And I don't want you to feel good if I have to feel sick.

Of course! It's all about you!

I wish I could have told her to 'shut the fuck up' like I did a few weeks ago as she was grilling me about what I was trying to do to become pregnant. 'I'm pregnant now - I wan't you to be too'. 'I'm private' I told her. But the need for a playmate was her primary goal. She harassed, I deflected. Finally, 'If I'm asking too much, just tell me to shut the fuck up'.

Shut the fuck up.

But back to the scan.

As soon as AdventureBoy and I walked into the scanning room I felt ominous dread. It wasn't the same room I had always had and it wasn't the same operator. She barely looked at me and I felt like she barely had time for me. She was silent whilst frowning at the screen. But I could see what wasn't there. There were two sacs (two! I hadn't even really considered the possibility that they would both stick), but there was not blinking heartbeat in either of them, like I knew I would be expecting to see.

I shut down. AdventureBoy was squinting at the screen with no idea about what he was supposed to be looking at. He looked at me, but I could give him nothing. I was consumed with the pressure on my chest.

There were what I thought were shadows in the centre of each of the sacs, but then she moved the wand and they were gone. For the briefest millisecond I thought I saw a flicker in one, but then it was gone too. Ms Silent began to speak. 'Either it's too early or there's nothing there. But with what you've been through, we know your dates. It's unlikely to be too early'. My heart was squeezed. 'It's certainly not what we like to see at this stage'.

Stupidly, I asked no more questions. I did not note the measurements and I didn't ask about the shadows. 'You'll probably need to go for blood tests and come back again in a couple of weeks for another scan. I'll send a full report to Dr Challenge - he'll have it in an hour and you can phone him then'.

'They close on Friday afternoons', barely a whisper.
'Well you'll have to call him on Monday'.

Right. Thanks. I glanced and the printouts of the scans as we left and didn't even ask to keep one.

Goodbye hope.


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