All hell breaks loose

What a morning.

To not freak you out any more than I already am, everything is ok. For now.

But it was quite a roller-coaster. I woke up at 5am, feeling a little gush between my legs. Uh-oh. I got up and hustled to the bathroom, and see enough pink discharge to overflow my panty liner. Ugh. But it was only pink, not red, and seemed to stop after this initial gush. So I put in my protm.etium suppository and went back to bed.

As I lie down, I start to feel crampy. Not those stretching, pulling feelings - these were full-on menstrual cramps. Uh-oh. It also feels like I need to have a BM, so back to the bathroom I go.

I sit on the toilet, and feel another gush. Bright red this time. I wipe, and it is that dark red, fully oxygenated, fresh blood. Oh shit. The toilet is red with blood. A small-ish clot on the tp. Oh double shit.

I rush back into the bedroom, wake up Mr. P, lie down, and tell him the deal. I call the far away clinic and wake up the doc on call. Not my regular doc. He sounded sleepy. He tells me to get an u/s today, and to "remain sedentary" today. Uh, ok. He tells me bleeding is common, and not to freak out yet. Easier said than done.

So Mr. P and I decide to just show up at the local clinic when they open at 7am. We do this, and after some confusion, they say they can't see me without written doctor's orders. OMG. They recommend I go to the ER. OMG! After talking to the doc on call again (he sounded more awake this time) he said I had to wait about an hour for the far away clinic to open to have a nurse fax orders.

Mr. P and I camp out on a couch at the local clinic, trying to figure out what to do. Should we go home, wait here, go to the ER? 5 minutes later, local famous doc comes out and says, "Of course we will see you, please come in." He was so nice. Thank God.

So we go in for the u/s, and I'm still bleeding a little - less than earlier, but still some. Bright red. Cramping less.

In goes the wand, and the tech says, "Let me look first, see what's going on and then I'll show you." Uh, ok. I'm barely breathing at this point, who am I to argue?

She quickly says, "I see the heartbeat." And I begin to cry. First tears of the morning.

I was trying so hard to keep it together, stay rational, make good decisions - whatever needed to happen to keep this kid safe. But now that I saw him, and he was still heartbeating, and measuring at 7w4d (2 days ahead!) - well, I could finally exhale. And cry. And let myself feel it. I'm crying again as I type this. It was so overwhelming. It still is.

The tech took some measurements, and saw no real reason for the bleeding. No subchorionic hemorrhage. Nothing out of the ordinary that she saw.

We met with the super-nice famous local doc afterward, and he basically said bleeding happens sometimes. Not sure why, but it does. Take it easy. And kindest of all, he said if I felt off or bad or whatever over the next week, or whenever, I could come see them without an appointment, without orders. He said, "Because peace of mind is worth everything."

True that.

Now I'm home, doing bedrest. I told Mr. P I'll be on self-imposed bedrest for the next 9-ish months. He fixed me a cooler next to the bed, so I don't have to go downstairs for anything. He was so great during it all. Calm, keeping a hand on my back, my leg, keeping me feeling less alone. So sweet, that man.

I'm still bleeding, but much lighter than before. It seems to be tapering off. Fingers crossed it stays that way. Cramping has lessened to almost nothing. Staying super-hydrated. Stopping the prome.trium per my nurse, and staying at a higher dose of the PIO, instead of tapering today like I was supposed to. Going to discontinue the baby aspirin - if I get the final ok from Dr. Famous.

I said to Mr. P on the drive home that it was all going too smoothly, too easily. It makes sense I was due for a full-on scare. I became complacent. I thought I was a normal lady again. HA! Mr. P said he's been waiting for the shoe to drop. Waiting for disaster right around the corner. Funny how we wear our scars in different ways.

I'm still here. So is the critter. What a morning for both of us. Whew. Although I have to keep reminding myself to breathe. In and out. In and out. In and out.