50% Chance

I am, right now, bleeding.

Bleeding into a maxi pad that I bought special yesterday. Bleeding.

And if this pregnancy is going to survive, I need to stop bleeding.

Since yesterday, the bleeding has lightened, lessened, tapered off.

But.

I still bleed, bleed bright red. Minimal cramping but blood, blood, blood.

Yesterday, I called in sick to work, called the on-call doctor and went running to my clinic. H was convinced the entire time that it would be something benign. The on call doctor on the phone was convinced it was fine. (Something about bleeding with no cramps not being scary).

Whatever. When the RE at the clinic inserted the wand, I shut my eyes. Tight. H was there and the universe never gives him bad news.

But.

A week ago (or so) we had two, perfectly nice round sacs. Yesterday, we had one round sac and one that was decidedly flat. The flat one still had a heartbeat (that seemed to surprise the doctor) and though I had much blood and "tissue" the sac still was, okay, let me search for the word. Um. Um. I don't remember it. But the sac, while flat, did not appear to be compromised.

Also, in the good news category, (and this is one small freaking category) my cervix is closed. "If it was wide open," said doctor, "there'd be no chance. But closed is good."

Still, the doctor did not give flat sac a good chance of survival. And what's worse, if flat sac decides to spontaneously abort, he may take his sibling with him.

So.

I have a 50% chance that flat sac will rebound from this. He was measuring at exactly the same rate as sibling; 7w2d.

I have a 50% chance that flat sac will quietly cease without causing harm to the other.

I have a 50% chance that I will lose everything.

My husband has a vision that he's holding in his head. Ten years from now, when we're sitting around the table at Thanksgiving, him. myself, and our two children. These two children. And H is telling flat sac the story of how much he worried us. And how much of a scrapper that he was, that he pulled through.

This has caused flat sac to actually get his own nickname -- Scrappy. (We've always called the pregnancy "Spunketta," for really inane reasons.) When we found out we had twins, we didn't immediately have a second nickname.

Now we do.

So world, meet Scrappy and Spunketta.

And Scrappy, stop bleeding.

Everybody else, please tell me that Scrappy's flattening and the blood could be some stupid coincidence. That sacs don't need to be round to survive.

Something.

Help.