Up until yesterday, I had the utmost confidence in myself and my body. I have always listened to and trusted my gut instincts and, until yesterday, they never steered me wrong.
So when I felt sure that I had lost the baby, I accepted it. I KNEW I wasn't going to have a baby. I could tell by the way I felt. I no longer felt life energy within me.
I went in for the ultrasound yesterday evening, after much cajoling and coaxing from the nurse at our backup OB's office. The doctor put the probe in (yes, in, and I will never get used to that) and there on the screen, was a little alien. An alien with tiny legs that were kicking all over, and arms that moved from belly to face and back again. And a heartbeat, bumping away at 160 beats per minute.
It's big now, a lot bigger than it was last time. And its very much alive. It measured 11 weeks 3 days, a week ahead of where the last ultrasound put me, and it looks it has a penis, but that's misleading because boys and girls look the same at this stage. I have a picture that I will show you later - I can't do it now, because my mother in law is here, and she doesn't know we're expecting.