On Friday I made not one but TWO appointments with the new OB. The first is for Friday; the practice likes to do a "prenatal counseling" session before your first official visit. The second is for May 12, when I will be close to 12 weeks. But yay! I have an OB! And appointments with said OB!
This is progress, folks.
Yesterday was odd in that I was exhausted until about 3:30 p.m. Like, could barely keep my eyes open, falling asleep every five minutes, etc. And then I got my second wind (more like my first wind, but whatever) and I launched into about three hours of work on the freelance project. I banged out a good chunk, and then, toward the end, I realized I was feeling rather frisky. Not because of the freelance project, but you know, in general.
Dr. Smiles' PA told me no intercourse until I had four consecutive days of no spotting. Another doctor in the practice says no nookie, no orgasms until you're out of the first trimester. I'd been planning on the latter just to be safe. But yesterday, in all of my friskiness, I wondered if I could maybe get away with a little me time, so to speak.
But of course I had to take it to Google. And of course I was immediately bombarded with stories of women who miscarried within hours of masturbating or having sex that finished with an orgasm. One woman went into premature labor at 22 weeks and lost her child. Another lost not one but TWO babies, from two separate pregnancies, because she crossed the finish line. Now she won't have sex during at all while she's pregnant.
Now, I'm a relatively smart person, and I get that this was all anecdotal "evidence." And I read plenty of posts by women who swear they screwed themselves silly while they were pregnant and went on to birth 10 lb. babies that came out swinging like Popeye.
The main touchstone that I and a few of my infertile friends use is this:
"If I do X and Y happens, can I live with the regret?"
So, like, if I take a shower and then, five minutes later, I lose the baby, I'm not going to regret it. There's no way the shower would have caused a miscarriage. I don't even like super-hot showers. So, my normal-hot shower would just be basic cleanliness/grooming. No regrets.
But if I ate a hot dog and lost the baby the next day, I would so totally regret it. Because I didn't need that hot dog. That would be me flaunting conventional wisdom for a momentary craving. And even though it would not be likely that the hot dog caused the miscarriage, there would always be a part of me that would wonder, "What would have happened if I had a salad instead?" So, yeah. Probably a regret.
Play this out with me: If I had an orgasm - a real one, and not the kind that sometimes happens when we're sleeping - and then lost the baby, there would be nothing but regret. And shame. And I'd probably never have sex again, or if I did, I wouldn't be able to enjoy it. Because all I would be able to think is that masturbation/sex/whatever killed my baby. Rational or not, that's how I'd feel.
After my miscarriage, there was one large clot left behind. The u/s tech told me I'd likely pass it in the next couple of days. I didn't, not right away. When I finally did, it was almost a week later and immediately after having an orgasm. No joke. I'd been sex-free for almost three months at that point (remember, Dr. Eyeore was all "no sex, no orgasms" the first trimester). I was also in a lot of emotional pain. So I indulged and poof! Clot passed.
"No wonder they say no sex, no orgasms in the first trimester," I thought to myself after it happened.
So, there you have it. No big O for Agony any time soon. And I'm okay with it. Because I'd rather be a little frustrated in that department than having to deal with the fallout from a second miscarriage that I could possibly convince myself I caused, no matter how true or untrue it may be.