Squeak’s Rollercoaster

It had been 8 days since my last ultrasound. I’d been counting the days like a little kid waiting for Christmas Day.

“Sweetie,” I’d whisper to my husband, just after lights-out. “Do you know what’s happening in two days?”

He’d give a typical answer. “Your butt?”

“In two days, it’s Squeak Day!” I’d whisper. I could see him shaking his head in the dark. Probably rolling his eyes, too, with a smile.

The day finally arrived, and I was so excited. And a little nervous. Maybe 3% nervous, 97% excited. I just knew it was going to be good news.

I requested Tara when I checked in and she came to fetch me and my husband from the waiting room with a big smile.

She asked for an update, and I happily reported that I’d had some bleeding after my last ultrasound, but just brown spotting after that, and nothing for the past 5 days. This was why I was so optimistic. No spots at all for five days!

I settled on the scan table/chair thingy and Tara got started. “Okay, so, I don’t want you to worry too much, but there’s quite a bit more blood around the gestational sac,” she explained.

My heart dropped. “Seriously? More bleeding?”

She leaned toward the screen, drawing lines with her fingertips to show us the area of concern. It was all around the little black blob.

My attention quickly shifted from the darkness around the gestational sac to what was inside it: as she moved around the gestational sac, I saw a little white blob, and within it, a heartbeat.

“There is cardiac activity. That’s good,” Tara said. She rubbed my knee comfortingly. I squeezed my husband’s hand. “But the blood is a red flag. That said, it’s only significant if there are other red flags — like a heartbeat under 100, a too-large yolk sac, or if Baby’s measuring behind. Let’s check everything and tell you what I find.”

One by one, she went through the measurements. The yolk sac was exactly the size it should have been. Squeak measured 6 weeks, 3 days (only two days behind — within normal range, and Peanut had measured behind at her first ultrasound, too). The heartbeat was last, and I waited anxiously while it calculated. A number popped up on screen:  124 bpm.  Whew!

Just the one red flag — the bleeding — but everything else was great. Tara said the doctor would probably have me come back in 7 to 10 days for another ultrasound. The size of the bleed and the amount of blood at this stage didn’t matter. What counts is Squeak: is he ignoring the bleeding and continuing to thrive?

Tara gave me a hug before sending me back to the waiting room with two photos of Squeak. You can’t really see him well; the yolk sac is almost as big as he is.

Squeak, 6 weeks and 5 days gestational age.

When we finally got in to see the doctor, he seemed distracted, which was off-putting, but at the same time, slightly reassuring. He wasn’t worried, so why should I be? He just kept going back to the heartbeat. If it’s strong, there’s no reason to panic (beyond the normal panic he’d expect from an IVF patient having a complication). He estimated a 10% chance of miscarrying.

(Any time they throw out a stat, I get nervous. My knack for being in the minority part of any statistic is uncanny. I don’t want to be in the 10% this time. No way, José.)

He asked me to return in a week. It took him a while to figure out the paperwork and the computer (seriously, it was like watching my toddler use my PC). He got it figured out eventually and sent us on our merry way.

This rollercoaster is making me nervous, partly because in just a few days (Christmas Eve), we tell my family the big news (it’ll be one of those rare occasions where everyone is in one place). I’m nervous about telling them, because I’ll have to temper their excitement with news of the subchorionic hematoma (SCH), and the repeated ultrasounds.

This seven-day wait should fly by. A weekend, one day of work, then two days off for Christmas. The very next workday is Squeak Day #2, at 8:00am. I’m hoping for 100% good news.