I just went to the doctor's office for my bi-weekly Progesterone shot. While there, I was chatting up my nurse, who I love. I told her Mike wouldn't allow me to get a doppler because he's sure I'll panic constantly. Karie agreed. No doppler for crazy, overbearing me. I know they're right. Besides the fact that I don't really feel drawn to have one. Part of the numbness I've developed to keep myself from panicking through this whole pregnancy.
Anyway, even though she discouraged my own doppler, Karie immediately took me back to check the heartrate herself. Thank God for my OB and his staff. They want me to be as happy and comfortable as I possibly can be. I pulled my pants to my hips and Karie globbed on the gel and got started.
But there was nothing.
No sound at all except the swooshing caused by her searching for life. This went on for minutes.
And I was freaking out. I stared at the ceiling, remembering doing exactly the same thing in February. I wondered why in the world I had done this without Mike by my side. I just kept saying, "This was a bad idea." I laid there demanding to myself I could never do this again, and we would be a family of five forever. A million thoughts and emotions flooded my mind, and I was left feeling gross from head to toe, shaking and preparing to cry.
Not to let me freak out alone, Karie kept talking to me, ensuring me the doctor would do a better job and she'd bring him in right away. Thank goodness for her talking. Last time, there was only silence. I'll never forget how silent the whole world was before the doctor told me she was "Sorry" about Carpenter.
My OB came straight in, looking confident, but completely understanding why I was nervous. He asked me if we had noticed anything strange on my last ultrasound, and I told him nothing had been strange, but now I remembered that my placenta was anterior. He laughed a little and said, "Well, that would make a huge difference!"
Within seconds, we all heard the heartbeat and my OB was counting away. Karie squeezed my ankle in support. 160 beats per minute. Perfectly, perfectly normal.
That didn't stop me from almost collapsing under my weak knees as I walked out.
So that's what it felt like... like death.