Welcome to My Rollercoaster

As the nurse was drawing my blood, I began sobbing, openly. Normally I cover this up, but with a needle in my arm, I was locked to the chair so my only option for escape was to draw one hand slowly up to my face. Everything went quiet in the clinic, people shifted uncomfortably and smiled apologetically. Eventually, the lab lady offered me tea, which I declined. As soon as the cotton ball and tape were fastened to my arm, I booked it to the bathroom to clean my smeared makeup.

This was how my third beta went down.  This was Monday, but the beginning of the roller coaster was the previous Wednesday, the day before my first beta. I had convinced myself that I NEEDED to come home in the middle of the workday and take a test right then. I downed a bottle of water on the way home and after those requisite 3 heart-pounding minutes,  I was shocked at what I saw. SHOCKED.

NOT pregnant.

Because I was certain, down to the bottom of my core that I was.  From the day after transfer, I tried so hard to convince myself otherwise because I knew that if I didn't, I would have even farther to fall. (that's the reasoning of a jilted infertile pessimist for you)

Returning to work was not an option. I was a tearful, fuck-the-world mess. Instead, we left and I ate some very fried foods (and got sick from them, of course). The next morning, the morning of my beta, I decided to take another test with undiluted morning pee for posterity-just to be absolutely certain. I couldn't hold it past 5 AM, so in the dark of early morning, I went to wait for the results, but before I could stand up, it said it...pregnant.  What?

That morning, I was all smiles and chatter with the lab ladies. I squealed a little when my doctor called me with a 154 beta and went about the next day dreaming of G's sibling and nurseries. I know-dangerous, but I indulged.

And then the next day, it hit. I've felt it before-that heavy feeling of dread, waiting for the bottom to fall out. This is more than pessimism, more than the echo of loss or infertility. This was intuition, my body's voice, that knew the next day's news would not be good. And it was spot on. My second beta was 178. It barely went up, and was far from doubled.  My doctor proposed a few scenarios-either this was twins and one was petering out (yet still we would have seen that number go up more), we were waiting for a miscarriage or it was an ectopic. That's what brought me to that third beta on Monday.

So, when my doctor called Monday afternoon, she asked, "so what does your intuition tell you today?" with the sing-song quality of good news in her voice.  "It's not good." I said. Well, apparently it had gone up, close to doubling. 325. I was more than confused and back onto the roller coaster.

What do I think about this? I try not to think either way. Easier said than done. Tomorrow, Friday, is my fourth beta. I'll be sitting in that same chair trying to stifle tears and I'll spend that morning afterward with my eyes glued to my phone.  I can't see from where I'm sitting that this could be good news, but I want more than anything for it to be. I'm spending my moments balancing realism, impending grief and hope and it's exhausting. Either way, I'd love to get some definitive news and stop living on the roller coaster of the unknown.