Lots of ups and downs emotionally this week. On Monday, I was just kind of unhappy, anxious, and generally crabby (and I lost a stone from my wedding ring! sad!). Yesterday, I was in a pretty good mood, not overly paranoid, pretty darn calm. Today, I’m back in the other direction. Today I have lower back pain and aches in my quads, which are typical PMS symptoms for me. So now, I wonder, has there been a drop in hormones to cause these symptoms? Should I expect to start bleeding any second? Hopefully not, but that’s where I’m at, emotionally.

I just REALLY want to make it to next week’s appointment and get more confirmation that everything is OK. I talked to my OB on Monday, and she was nice enough to ask if I thought I could make it to then without another reassurance. I said I could, but it’s good to know that if I really felt like I HAD to have another u/s for peace of mind, she’d order it.

Ugh. I just feel flat-out crappy today. I hope I hope I hope everything is OK. I’m not sure I could completely recover from facing that disappointment again. Think happy thoughts, everyone.

I’ve lost my mind.

I think I’ve cried four of the last five nights. And I’m not talking about tearing up at a sappy commercial (that’s not new). I mean full on lose it. Swollen eyes, garbled speech, stuffed-up nose. It varies what sets me off, but I know that’s not really the point. It’s the combination of my least favorite hormone ever (progesterone) and the sometimes crushing anxiety of losing both of these babies. Oh sure, one night it could be my husband’s indecisiveness about taking a new job (Wednesday, I believe), another night I’m maddeningly uncomfortable in my own skin (Friday, big time). Last night it was a combination of disorientation (I was half asleep), ambivalence about sex (I’d like to, but it terrifies me right now), and miscarriage fears. Oh, and then crying because I felt bad about all the crying. Awesome.

I think hitting the eight-week mark yesterday was both exciting and terrifying. On the one hand, each new week feels like great progress. “I’m not six weeks anymore, I’m eight!” And on the other hand, I’m now reaching the point where I lost it last time. With my last pregnancy, I discovered the miscarriage at eight weeks, five days. In the ultrasound, the embryo apparently measured eight weeks, three days, so it had theoretically stopped growing two days earlier. But I sort of believe it had just stopped that very afternoon. Either way, that’s “this” week. So I’m pretty well consumed with anxiety.

The thing I’m freaking out about right now is the hematoma. I had one last time, which they didn’t think was anything to worry about, and then I lost the pregnancy. No one ever said the two had anything to do with each other, but it’s still a scary (to me) similarity. I saw it much more pronounced in this last ultrasound than in the one before. Though the ultrasound tech said it looked like it was in the process of resolving, it still freaks me out.

But, today I’m off to do admissions interviews for my alma mater. Hopefully it will keep my mind more or less occupied for a large part of the day. Any break from flipping out about this is welcome. Though you can bet I’m going to ask for an interview room on the first floor. Not risking going up and down three flights of stairs all day long. Not that I have any reason to think that would have a negative impact on my pregnancy, but I feel like I have so little influence over the process right now, I’ll do any little thing that seems like a good idea.

Whatever gets you through the day, right?

Still reeling from the ultrasound, still kind of in denial about the twins. I mean, it’s not like there was anything ambiguous about what we saw, but it’s hard for me to believe it 100%.

In large part, I’m still trying to protect myself, emotionally. Wednesday afternoon I was just beside myself with excitement. I was shopping online for double strollers, mentally switching which room we would make the nursery, and wondering if we should get a minivan. And then, driving home, the fear washed over me. Not like a rain shower, but like one of those huge waves that surfers enjoy in Hawaii. Huge, fast, and certain to drown me. I nearly burst into tears on the highway. It hit me: now that I’m twice as excited, I have at least twice as much to lose.

And really, I’m not usually a cynical or especially pessimistic person. I want this to work out so badly, and I’m frequently hopeful that it will. I’m also so afraid of losing again. But, I’m trying to stay as level as possible – not too excited, not too scared. That said, my husband is just plain beside himself, and sometimes I am too. TWINS?? Holy crap! That is so friggin exciting!

Today, meanwhile, I feel like crap. I’ve been vaguely light-headed or dizzy most of the morning. I wondered if I just needed to eat, so I had a nice big (yummy) plate of pad thai (hold the sprouts) for lunch. Nope. Still have the same feeling on the back of my neck that I get when I give blood. The one that makes the nurses lie me down and give me an ice pack for my neck. Fun!

I’m fortunate that neither my mother nor my mother-in-law ever experienced much by way of morning sickness, and I have so far been exempt. The symptoms have mainly been exhaustion, sore (and huge) boobs, and acne that would shock a teenager. Oh, and a nice side of moodiness for extra challenge. But all in all, I know of people much more miserable than me, so I can’t complain all that much.

Third ultrasound scheduled for next Friday (since I told my OB I might lose my mind if I had to wait for my appointment on the 30th). I’ll be 7 weeks, 6 days, so hopefully it’ll be a great view with some nice, strong heartbeats. Hopefully nothing much to speak of in the week before that happens…