Deja Vu

At approximately week 5 and a half, the spotting began. Honestly, I don't remember how much it was. This was four years ago. But I do remember clearly the terror. A check by the doctor revealed that it was nothing, and an ultrasound showed a gestational sac and a yolk sac. Fine for now, but what I really wanted to see was a heartbeat. It was too early for that. My anxiety level had vaulted itself to new heights, despite my doctor's reassurance that all was fine and it was likely a side effect of the progesterone. A week later, it got worse. I felt a dampness, made a hasty retreat to the bathroom (thank God it was recess at school and someone could keep an eye on my students) only to discover I was no longer spotting. This was full out bleeding. A gush of bright red blood. Shaking, I made my way to the office and informed the principal (she knew I was again pregnant...I told her just for this reason, in case something were to happen). My doctor had me come in right away. The nurse ushered me into the exam room and inquired "You had a miscarriage last time too, right?" My heart sank as I heard the words I dreaded, but was sure were true. I silently wiped the tears from my eyes and tried to keep my composure as I waited for my doctor. The examination showed my cervix was closed and the active bleeding had slowed. His attempts to comfort me were met with my declarations, through tears, that I was not optimistic, as this is what happened last time. He understood my fear and urged me not to give up hope, and he scheduled me for an ultrasound. the second ultrasound revealed that all was well, but still no heartbeat. I knew, at six weeks, this was not abnormal, but I was still frightened. I would simply need to wait for another ultrasound in two weeks or so, when a heartbeat would be visible in a viable pregnancy (or even, in the case of my previous pregnancy, a non-viable one). The next day, I was summoned to the office to take a phone call. It was my doctor, informing me that the radiologist had a concern about my ultrasound. The sac was implanted so high up in my uterus that they feared it was ectopic. I knew this wasn't good, but my doctor reassured me by telling me that he felt it wasn't the case, but because of the danger of ectopic pregnancies, I needed to go for an emergency ultrasound. Again, I left school. I was grateful for the student teacher I had taken on that semester. While he couldn't be left solely responsible for the classroom, he could assure that routine was disrupted as little as possible when the sub was there, and it was one less thing to worry me.