Five days after the termination, I am feeling pretty stable. There have been moments of sadness, but I am not overwhelmed, mainly because I can now move on with everything I’ve been putting aside since the discovery, but now, I have a renewed purpose.

Good news from my best friend: she was able to see her baby on the ultrasound, 7 weeks, 4 mm, and saw the heartbeat. Out of four embryos implanted, one took. There’s still some danger of miscarriage, but I have a good feeling about this. She doesn’t want to tell everyone until the end of the first trimester. My thoughts and best wishes are with her, and I have a good feeling about her pregnancy.

I am now in the middle of Day 2.

Yesterday was Day 1. The nurse came in and talked about contraceptive options with me, and I decided there that no principle of being natural and not using hormones on a long-term basis was worth the risk of getting pregnant again. I felt like a weak, undisciplined person in admitting that the only thing I can see myself reliably using 100% of the time as directed was the Nuva Ring. But life has a way of getting so hectic that you forget about or overlook the most basic necessities: 8 glasses of water a day; god knows how many servings of fruits, fibers, and proteins; and one little pill. Why is that? Such a simple, little thing. So easy to forget, and yet so crucial.

We weathered a busy weekend, full of classes and coursework, and could almost forget that we were still pregnant. At this point, it makes more sense to use the pronoun “we” than “I,” because it affects my life companion (too sappy?) every bit as much as it affects me.

The appointed hour came, and we went back to the clinic. This time, the doctor (a different one, though no less warm and friendly) looked over my history briefly, and then proceeded with the ultrasound.