I’m sincerely doing my best not to fret over the fact that my embryonic fetus is measuring behind. Truly, we aren’t the overachieving sort anyway – alive + heartbeat = good. At my appointment, I was so busy celebrating the fact that there was just one that it barely even registered. I begged the technician to search in all of the dusty corners of my uterus to be sure that one wasn’t hiding in there. In response, she sort of half-laughed at me and said, “actually, we did miss one once”. To which I responded that the “once” happened to by lying on the table at this very moment.
It was only sometime the next day that it dawned on me that I’ve been here before. When we did finally discover that I was carrying twins (at about 16 wks), we also found out that one of them was measuring behind. Of course, “behind” ended with no heartbeat at 31 weeks. But twins are a different ball game and it’s early to be predicting demise. I have even decided to stay away from Dr. Google and friends this time, going decidedly against my internal grain. I’ve come to believe that sometimes there is wisdom in not seeking knowledge. In the case of the twins, I had read every paper I could find and considered every scenario that had a precedent. It made for good conversations with the perinatologist, who thought that I was myself a physician, but it didn’t change the outcome and it didn’t, I believe couldn’t, prepare me emotionally.
So I will wait for more information. The good news is that I don’t have to wait long. I have an ultrasound in just less than 2 weeks. In the meantime, I have given myself the “worst pregnant woman on earth” award. Simply put, I SUCK at this! I am tired – ok, slovenly – and nauseous and my brain functions only on the lowest maintenance setting. It’s not pretty.