A gift better than a Doppler.

Three of them, in fact.

***

First, you. All of you who shared ideas on how to track down a Doppler, going so far as to offer to ship one to me from afar. I was so touched by your thoughtful kindness and generosity, and each comment was a hug that brought me, step by step, down from my ledge of absolutely needing to know right that instant that there was still a heartbeat. Thank you for that, so much.

In less than three weeks, we will be ourselves in the land o' cheap and plentiful Dopplers, and I'll (we'll ...) decide what to do when we're there. I found out during an "I need a Doppler and I hate this country for hindering me from obtaining one" tantrum on Tuesday night that Gilles is opposed to said obtainment, mainly because he thinks it will feed my anxiety, as some of you recognized. Perhaps. But perhaps, also, it would calm it, as others of you found for yourselves.

In the meantime, I've stepped away from that ledge and am trying to keep confidence, trust, and faith that there is still a heartbeat, even though I can't verify it.

***

So yes, I'll be home for Christmas, and not only in my dreams, after a four-stopover hell of a flight that will probably include an unplanned-for overnight stay somewhere in the US or Canada, given the tight connections. (I'd complain, except it was a free ticket, obtained with miles, so instead I will just "point out.")

The ticket was booked long before the positive peestick, and I'd go anyway, but the pregnancy gives rise to a bit of concern about thrombosis or related problems, as I have a tendency to swell incredibly during even the shortest of puddle-jumps. Heck, I swell incredibly during the course of a normal day. The lovely gynecologist prescribed me compression tights, and yesterday I went to buy them, which led to my second gift.

Of course I had to tell my fitter and dresser (yep, she dressed me – putting these things on is quite an art) about my delicate state, which felt a bit strange, as we have told nobody yet, with the exception of the obvious: doctors, medical receptionists, anybody on the Internet who cares to read this space, et cetera.

She was excited for me, wondering if it was my first. She asked how far along I was. She tried to estimate what size I would be for the trip home, and then weeks later, for the trip back here, my other home. She gave me advice on medications or therapies that could reduce my tendency to swell – to be taken or done after the birth and after having finished breastfeeding, she added.

Her gift was that she just assumed that all would go well, that the pregnancy would continue to progress, that there would be a bigger bump making its way back to Switzerland than leaving it, and that there would, in due time, be both a birth and a baby. Everything she said to me was based on these assumptions, without qualifying them, as if they were so obvious that they weren't even worth an if.

Although all the signs have been favorable so far, these are assumptions we still don't dare to make after the shock of the last loss. We have started to dream of the future, but after a minute or two, our voices trail off, and we add, "Well, if ... if." And we both know exactly what that if means.

To hear somebody speak with such confidence, without if, without even thinking of that word, felt incredible, even more normal-ifying than an abdominal ultrasound.

Perhaps I should try it myself one day.

***
Third, my mom sent me a sweet little care package yesterday, just because it's autumn. Included were several packets of ............................................

... my beloved pumpkin spice! I'll have to save them until the thought of coffee doesn't make me shudder in disgust quite so much, but I'm sure they'll be just as tasty next spring ... or summer.