I've mentioned before that any unexplained bleeding in pregnancy invokes the diagnosis of threatened abortion. This is an awful term, accurate though it may be okay, it's no habitual aborter, but it does have a certain je ne sais quoi.
Oh, who am I kidding? Je sais exactement quoi. When my doctor coded my file at the end of my last appointment, he said, rather offhandedly, "Don't freak out, but I'm writing in threatened miscarriage." Did he realize, I wonder, that he was dangerously close to threatened spasmodic-kick-in-the-teeth-from-a-woman-still-in-the-stirrups? Threatened keening-so-otherworldly-it'll-cause-every-patient-within-earshot-to-empty-bladder-uncontrollably? Threatened calling-every-day-tearfully-begging-for-a-repeat-scan?
Because that's where I am at the moment. Every day I don't call and ask for another look is a victory much greater than I can describe, a triumph of my own superhuman willpower over my also superhuman fear and sadness.