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Tonight, I had a harsh reminder that everything can still go horribly awry at a moment’s notice. Just puttering along, taking a shower, and bam. There’s blood. Not the brownish dried blood that Dr Hearn told me to disregard – no, this blood is scarily bright red. Calmly, numbly finished my shower, got dressed, and went to the living room to tell Bobby. We discussed what to do – should we wait until the Tuesday ultrasound? Or go to the hospital around the corner? Or call the on-call obgyn? Or call Dr Hearn himself? Dr Hearn drew the short straw – we called his cell and described what was going on. He said that bleeding during early pregnancy is relatively normal – called it a “placental nosebleed” – and that I should go to bed and get some rest. The office is closed tomorrow, but he told me to be there at 9am, and he’ll do an “unofficial” ultrasound to see if everything’s ok.

After we hung up, I sank into a puddle of tears. I’ve let myself get attached again. What if the heart’s not beating anymore? What if my body has once again aborted my baby without my permission? What if that tiny group of cells has quietly just stopped growing, without cramps, without any of those warning signs that I’ve been watching for, and I’ve been carrying around a little dead beginning of a baby?

I’m going to sleep now, and when I wake up it will be time for the ultrasound. Feel like I’m waiting for the jury to come back with their verdict. Perhaps if I lie very still all night, I won’t jar or disrupt anything… Surely, SURELY, I haven’t done anything to make that tiny heart stop beating. Surely.

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