I think part of me always knew this wasn’t going to happen.

Everything felt different than with the first two. My breasts weren’t tender, my skin was bad, my nausea wasn’t as severe. “Maybe it’s a boy!” My family said helpfully, hopefully. Maybe. But I knew something was off.

We saw Dr. Hirisk for an ultrasound at 6w2d gestation. We saw a sack and fetal pole, but no heartbeat. Dr. Hirisk didn’t want to start me on the blood thinner Lovenox (for my clotting disorder) until he saw a heartbeat. “If you were to miscarry on Lovenox, it could be very dangerous.” He had us make an appointment to come back four days later to look for a heartbeat. The feeling that something was wrong grew stronger.

But then four days later the heartbeat was there and Dr. Hirisk seemed surprised and relieved. He prescribed my blood thinners, and scheduled me to come in six weeks later for the first trimester screen.

“Shouldn’t I come in five weeks from now?” I asked, “I’m seven weeks tomorrow.”

“No…according to the ultrasound the baby is measuring six weeks. You probably ovulated late.” Dr. Hirisk replied.

Except I hadn’t ovulated late. I knew exactly when I’d ovulated: we’d used a digital ovulation kit. But Mike was excited, the doctors were happy. I told myself I was being overly cynical and cautious. I was going to enjoy this pregnancy.

I let myself get caught up in it all. We discussed names, took bets on if the baby would come before or after Thanksgiving, if it would be a boy or another girl.

Two nights before the appointment with my OB, my cousin Leah asked me if this pregnancy felt like my others. Before I could even think I said, “No.”  The sinking feeling I’d had earlier came rushing back. I couldn’t sleep, worried. And then we went to the appointment.

Part of me always knew this wasn’t going to happen…but I just wish that part of me hadn’t been right.