Second scan the wallaby poop measured 8 weeks exactly and was moving around like a crazy thing! Heartbeat measured 169bpm.
It was great to see but right here (from 8 weeks) is where it has always gone bad for me previously. Last 2 missed miscarriages were 8 weeks 3 days and 8 weeks 5 days. I wont pretend I'm not nervous.
As I write this I am at 8 weeks 4 days and I feel fine. This is bad because fine means no nausea or sickness, and that can mean a whole host of things, most of which are not good news... we will see.
I didn't like the new doc at all. He blew off my history like I told him I'd had the flu a few times and wouldn't give me another scan in a week (something all previous docs have done with my history always being shaky in these weeks).
Frankly, if I did miscarry on the LMWH - Clexane - (Lovenox to the Americans) and baby aspirin I'm taking, it could cause all kinds of hemorrhaging problems, apparently he's not too concerned about that.
I am looking for (another!) Doctor. If this goes ahead I want to trust and like my Doc, its as simple as that. I want to feel like they have my back, aren't just doing a job. I don't feel that with him.
Hubby has visions of us ending up like Katherine Hiegal on Knocked Up - searching the world for the 'perfect' OBGYN and ending up with the hideous one we started with!
I laughed - momentarily.
And so we wait.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
|Don't ya' think my uterus is sexy?|
I just assumed that giving him $250 for an initial 5 minutes of conversation and a further 5 minutes of him sticking a phallic-shaped, condom covered camera up my va-jay-jay (thanks Oprah) would make him cheerful beyond measure.
From what I can tell it's a hellava lot better than anything those girls are getting down on Canterbury road for a similar experience, though I concede they don't have the Harbour views that I enjoyed during my 'special time'.
But then, what do I know?
Last time I saw him (over a year ago) he was trying to convince me to do some very expensive IVF-type option where they take my eggs, hubby's sperm and find the best of the best, and insert them into me for fertilization. His reasoning was that I keep miscarrying - no one knows why - so maybe if they select the cream of the crop it wont happen.
The problem is in all my testing, never has even one come back with any kind of chromosonal abnormality (well nothing other than the obvious - being the offspring of my husband and I it was always going to have marked physical and emotional limitations).
To me, it was a moneymaking suggestion - great for him but with no guarantee for me. So we didn't do it and apparently he's not happy. I realized exactly HOW unhappy when he said (and I quote here):
"Well, you may get a baby out of this, but it may not be the one you want."
(Referring to my age, the fact that I didn't use his selection services and as a result there may end up being something wrong with this child in some way.)
His bedside manner could probably use a little work, but hey, who am I to judge? He's the one raking in a cool million plus a year while women like me throw our hard-earned dollars at him in a desperate bid to hear the words we want to, so he's obviously doing something right.
In the end he scanned me which it what I wanted. It's there, we saw a very faint flickering heartbeat and it was measuring 5 weeks 5 days. A little bean of a thing that looked kind of like wallaby poop.
Who knows where me and my potential little missing chromosome will go from here?
Posted by Carrie at 8:09 AM
Sunday, September 2, 2012
If I were to try to purchase a phallic-shaped dildo, requesting it to be fitted with an internal camera so as to give anyone who chose to watch a birds-eye view of my internal bits, people would think I was some kind of weirdo.
And yet here we coiffed, perfectly well-dressed, middle class women turn up at our RE's offices and happily spread our legs for this same experience. And we usually do it while making polite conversation.
It's all about perspective isn't it?
For me though, no mater how many times I have had him visit my 'special place' the reality is, it will always be a doctor (generally male) inserting a dildo inside of me while we discuss the latest weather report.
It's just weird.
Posted by Carrie at 5:45 PM