For the first three months of our pregnancy, dh and I told no one. We planned to wait until we hit the end of the first trimester mark- the supposed safety zone. We were excited, yet wanted to remain calm during those initial weeks. (Of course few friends picked up on our news when I wasn't drinking at social events, but didn't acknowledge it to us until later). To my surprise, at my 8 week appointment, my RE said "congratulations! you've graduated." What? I thought we couldn't feel confident about this pregnancy until after the first trimester was over. She explained that there was a less than 9% chance of miscarriage after 8 weeks. No more RE appointments. I had graduated on to my obgyn. Off I went with my the "graduation gift" that they gave to me, a baby bib and spoon.
The pregnancy proceeded in the coming weeks as normal. I was tired and nauseous, but that felt like a small price to pay for the miracle growing inside of me. At 11 weeks I had a brief scare, which turned out to be ok. During a pee break at work I saw blood. Not a lot. But a bright red quarter-sized spot. Now I knew blood was not something that you want to see when you are pg. So I called my RE immediately. It was 5:00 on a Friday so I got the doctor on call. She informed me not to worry unless the bleeding persisted heavily. In that case, I could be having a miscarriage. The bleeding ceased for a day. Then on Saturday night, the bleeding returned including some clotting. In the middle of the night, with visitors sleeping soundly in our guest room, dh and I went to the ER.
I prayed that our baby was ok, but at the same time braced myself for bad news. The nurse did a sono, while I gripped dh's hand...The tiny heartbeat was still there. I cried tears of relief. Our little baby had hung on. And I wanted nothing more than to bring this baby who we loved into this world.