I'm sure you're thinking...."Wait....didn't she already talk about this a couple of weeks ago? Did I miss something in the last few weeks of the measly posting she's been doing??"
Well, for the first time since I got a positive HPT, I am finally convinced that I am pregnant.
Yesterday was my first meeting with the OB nurse, the promotion from Gyn to OB as it were. And the whole time during our meeting when she was talking about this or that, I kept thinking "Well, I could be pregnant, but based on my history, we don't really know for sure."
So when she set up the meeting for my first trimester screening, I mentioned that I thought it would be a good idea if I had another ultrasound to check that there was any reason for me to go to the screening. I know that all the news has been very good thus far, but I had been lead to believe that the news was positive before, too, and it wasn't.
So she scheduled another ultrasound for the afternoon.
And 1 week and 1 day after my last ultrasound, the baby has grown exactly one week and one day. And the heart rate? 170! I was measuring 8 weeks 0 days with a 170 heart rate. At this point, the research I've seen shows that a heart rate over 146 has a 3% miscarriage rate. At 170, I just feel like that's a really good number. I believe, finally, that I am pregnant.
And yes, I did start crying on the table when she told me the heart rate. I was so relieved that everything looks normal. Of course, there could be some abnormalities in the screening, but I don't think so. I think everything is fine and normal. I could be wrong, but I don't think so.
3% is a magic number for me. I use it all the time in teaching about statistics to tell my students that it's the same probability as getting pregnant using birthcontrol pills. So it could happen, but it's unlikely. So having a 3% chance of miscarriage right now is very reassuring to me.
I'm pregnant. And I finally believe it.
In other news, we are slowly adjusting to life without Duncan. Surprisingly, the household member who is taking this the worst is Scarlett, aka Psycho Kitty. She and Duncan spent a lot of time napping together and Duncan was always licking her head (and her butt, but that's another story). When we come home from work now, she's like a little tribble flying across the room to latch on to our heads. Nights are filled with plaintive mews for us to pet her and snuggle with her. I try, but it's a bit annoying. (She has a whiny meow). I gave up long ago the right to any privacy when I go to the bathroom. But now she views me as a captive audience when I go a toilette and fairly assaults me with headbutts, meows and purrs while I'm trying to go about my business.
In all honesty, this is the first time in Scarlett's 14 1/2 years that she has not had a cat companion. And since Patches regards her beyond all cats as an indoor squirrel, he's not going to fill that void in her life. She always wanted to be #1 Kitty, but I don't think she ever meant to be the only cat in the house.