By: Heather Somaini
We’re pregnant – pretty amazing words. I was finally able to say them…out loud. We were pregnant. It even sounds cool today five years later. We were so excited. Elated…it had finally happened. It only took six vials of our donor, one operation, and some drugs, but it worked!
We told my parents. We told our closest friends. I told my boss and his wife. Everyone was ecstatic, especially us. We had no idea what was really happening, if it was one egg or two and we had to wait…again. Dr. C said we should come in for a routine ultrasound at 8 weeks. We were only two weeks in. How were we going to wait another SIX WEEKS?!
We waited and waited and waited. It seemed like forever but at least this time we had good news instead of the torturous limbo from before. This time we could talk about baby room colors and strollers and pre-schools and well, we could talk about anything we wanted. And we did. We talked about everything for six weeks. For six weeks, the world was our oyster.
About two weeks before our ultrasound appointment, Tere had a complete meltdown one morning on her way to work. I answered the phone and immediately knew something was really wrong. Maybe some of the pregnancy hormones had finally kicked in but she was in a state. She had come to the conclusion that by six weeks she should have had some morning sickness and she hadn’t had any.
I calmly and rationally explained that not everyone has morning sickness. Maybe she was one of the lucky ones and would skate through with none of it at all! I must have done a pretty decent job because eventually she laughed and smiled and went about her day. As I hung up the phone, I wondered for a moment if I should be worried and then immediately put it out of my mind. I’m sure it crept back in a time or two but I banished it as quickly as possible.
Finally the day arrived for our ultrasound appointment. We were happy – giddy even. Everyone at the doctor’s office was so happy for us – they knew how much this meant. We chatted with the nurses until they were ready for us in the ultrasound room. The technician explained what she was going to do and what we should expect. I had searched online for 8-week ultrasounds pictures so I knew what we would see – well, sort of. There just isn’t a whole lot to see at that stage. The ultrasound started and I desperately tried to make something out on the screen. No luck. We weren’t going to know anything until Dr. C came in. She arrived and ran the ultrasound again. I waited.
It was one of those moments when your head finally takes over the job which your heart has been in charge of. Time slowed and then sped up and then slowed again. The room was silent. I watched Dr. C and so desperately wanted her to say something but feared her words. Each moment that passed brought hope and devastation. I looked at Tere and then back to Dr. C. Nothing had changed. She gave nothing away but my heart sank. I knew. My world was about to tilt and spin.
I looked at Tere again and realized she hadn’t noticed the change; she was still expectant. My heart sank further knowing I would have to watch as it happened. I held out the smallest hope but knew it was in vain. Dr. C asked when we did the insemination and then checked her pregnancy chart.
I couldn’t bear to look at Tere but I knew I had to. I forced myself to. She was still waiting, hopeful. I could see it in her eyes. Something inside of me died. I was crushed, knowing that I could do nothing to shield her from the next few moments. I couldn’t soften the blow. There was nothing I could do. I knew it was about to happen and tried to steel myself for her pain. I knew the only way I could make it through was to not feel and be strong for her. It was the only way. I could deal with me later. Right now it was Tere that needed all of me.
Dr. C told us there was no heartbeat. I waited. We weren’t pregnant.
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Originally published on The Seattle Lesbian
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