It Took 5 Weeks and 4 Days

Last week I went out of town for a professional development workshop. I had just found out I was pregnant so it was late in my fourth week. It was the coldest week of the year and I was commuting on the dirty trains and cabs and EVERYTHING about the experience made it feel like a bad idea.

But I can’t live in a bubble for 9 months (or even three), and my district paid for me to attend. I felt like I had no choices. Even my very own husband was telling me to suck it up and stop looking for an excuse to come home.

So that’s what I did. I sucked it up. And sure enough I got sick. Saturday morning I woke up with a fever and a stomach thing (which is a source of panic for me in the first place).

And my 102 fever didn’t break for 24 hours.
And I definitely didn’t drink enough fluids even though I really tried.
And now I’m worried. (What a shocker)
I’m worried that my tiny little sesame seed who is working so hard to grow and thrive was somehow compromised.
And I am mad at myself for not trusting my instincts to take it easy last week. I am also mad at myself for reading old babycenter threads about fevers in early pregnancy.

I am not a religious person, but I have been bargaining with God and/or whatever higher power exists all day that I will ALWAYS trust myself from now on if (s)he can let this one slide and please let my baby be okay.

This is also when I realized that I was NOT maintaining a safe disconnect from the life inside of me even though I really thought I was. It took 5 weeks and 4 days – (if we are counting from arbitrary fake retrieval dates before an FET) – 5 weeks and 4 days to be connected to this little peppercorn.

Logically, I KNOW that everything is probably fine, and that if it’s not, there is probably nothing I could have done differently to prevent it. But that only goes so far in calming me down. My 5w5d ultrasound is tomorrow.

I don’t want to lose another one.

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