I woke up this morning as I do every morning to the classical music station here in town. This morning's selection with which I was destined to wake up was rather inauspicious - a variation on Taps.
I headed to the shower, half-listening to the news on NPR, trying to prepare myself for what was to come. I shaved my legs and didn't give much thought to the loofah swipes over my stomach. I put on a favorite skirt, heels and a pretty green top. I always feel better when I look good, no matter what happens, and I was determined to do it right today.
Sweetie arrived around 8:45am to squire me to the appointment and we were kept waiting about 30 minutes after our appointed time to see Dr. Uterus. I skimmed through the new O magazine and could barely focus.
Finally, we got back to the room - the same room where almost a year ago he told me the terrible news of our first pregnancy - and in came Dr. Uterus. We dispensed with the pleasantries and (literally) got down to business.
The magical dildocam did its thing and there, right where we had left it, was our little phoenix.
Bigger. Growing. Little heart still beating away.
It is still measuring small for the time of the transfer. But, it has grown the appropriate amount since the last scan. It is now measuring 7w5d and I'm supposed to be around 8w1d. Phrases like "late implantation" were bandied about, but we still don't have a clue. It could also still be an abnormal pregnancy, which we are still accutely aware.
No celebrations yet, no partying in the streets. For now, we are looking at it this way: we've bought another week. I go back on Thursday, March 20.
Thanks to everyone for their wonderful thoughts - each one has touched me and brought me great comfort. No matter what happens in the end, I have been very much buoyed by all of you.
And, my, what an incredible story.