I've been reading this thread and the roll call on my phone while putting my kids to bed at night. I find that that's the most convenient time for me to read e-mails and stuff but it's totally inconvenient to post from the phone. So I've been kind of absent but I've been keeping up with the thread.
I'm 9+4 today. I'll have my first ultrasound on Friday. I'm not really consciously nervous about it, but I also have no faith that there will be a heartbeat. I used to think that you could pretty much count on being pregnant as long as you hadn't started bleeding. I hadn't realized how common missed miscarriages were. Anyway, last time I had no heartbeat at 10 weeks and an 8 week baby so this ultrasound will be huge for me.
With my two successful pregnancies I was quite sick and puked a bunch of times. With my miscarriage pregnancy I felt pretty good until right around 8 weeks (which I later found out was when it died), when I got more nauseated and then got ravenously hungry, a symptom I had never before had. I thought for sure it was twins. Now I think my body was desperately trying to get it to grow.
This pregnancy has way more in common with the unsuccessful ones than it does with the good ones. I am only really getting reliably nauseated this week. I don't have the major hunger thing, but I do have the same feeling that if I don't eat right now I will need to puke. It's not a bottomless pit, though.
With the unsuccessful pregnancy we were on a trip to Italy right when the baby must have died. Of course I can't pinpoint the date exactly but if the u/s was accurate then it died on a day that DH and I had an enormous argument. I can no longer remember what it was about. Our biggest fights are always not so much about an issue as they are about DH being in the world's shittiest mood for days on end and me losing it with him. This time, I was 8 weeks on Christmas. We were in America visiting my parents for 16 days. This is enough to send DH over the edge. So on Christmas Eve we had another huge fight. It was at the point that he said that he was going to leave right then. He went downstairs (this was at about midnight and we were in my bedroom) and said he was going to the airport and would leave our passports behind. I was stuck in bed keeping my toddler asleep so I was left lying there wondering if he really would do it (it seemed unlikely) and what the hell I was going to tell my kids and parents when he was gone on Christmas morning. (He didn't leave and it was fine in the morning.)
Anyway, it was on the exact same day of the pregnancy. There's always been a part of me that wondered if that huge fight in Italy somehow caused my miscarriage. I know it probably didn't. People live through much worse experiences without losing babies. But I felt pretty crappy thinking about how this was again on the exact same day. Like maybe my body said that a baby shouldn't come into such a marriage. Of course then you'd expect me to miscarry, not for the baby to die and my body to cling onto it for another 7 weeks, keep on growing a placenta, etc.
Anyway, I'll be eager to see what happens on Friday. If it's all good then I will finally be able to truly acknowledge this pregnancy. I keep telling myself that if there's no baby, at least we'll be able to go on a summer holiday. Sounds heartless, I know, but at least it's a bit of a consolation.