Before the ultrasound:
I have no idea what the ultrasound today will reveal or any ultrasounds thereafter, if we get there. I think it will be good news, a small milestone at the very beginning of many, many others. But I do know this. Should this not prove successful at any point, we are done with treatment for good.
I always wondered what it would feel like to be at the place where I was done. I thought I would be more torn, but I just knew that the game of the gamble wasn't for me any longer. Nevertheless, I do want desperately to add to our family.
Should this not go the direction we hope today or any day thereafter, Mr. S and I have decided to look into adoption. We haven't made a final call, but we have seriously decided to roll up our sleeves and do our homework and see if it's meant for our family. We're done with the lack of guarantee, the drugs, throwing money at companies for a 'chance'. It is finally time to move on and with both possibilities-whether the one I'm brewing right now or a child through adoption, I am filled with hope, but petrified all the same. I do know this-whoever is meant to join us, will.
Post Ultrasound:
One little sack, measuring on schedule. I would breathe a sigh of relief, but I've never been one to do that. Even after my kid's birth I was still a worry wort practically in the same way I was before every ultrasound. Next appointment is in a week. There should be a heartbeat by then. Although my doctor basically alluded to the fact that I need Xanex BADLY, I can't have that, so I guess a bag of chocolate and a bath will have to do as I chew my nails to the quick in anticipation.
Monday, September 24, 2012
Friday, September 21, 2012
The Little Embryo that Could
Once upon a time, I started a pregnancy out with low betas and low progesterone. This was following an IUI we were sure wouldn't take. But as the week went on, the beta and progesterone rose to low normal levels and within a few weeks we had two appointments: one in which we saw a perfect sac and fetal pole, and the other in which our little one's heartbeat clocked in at 120.
And then, the next appointment-silence. No heartbeat. An embryo that had arrested weeks before.
The moral this tale taught me was that even when you think you're out of the woods, you might not be. Sometimes early signs are warnings of things to come.
But then another part of me has learned stories of fighters out there who defy statistics, fighters who once seemed out of the game but came roaring back onto the scene, proving everyone wrong. I pray that this one is the latter.
On Monday, our beta was 325. A perfect doubling time every two days over a four day period of time would be 1300. Today, we were at 1580. I couldn't convince myself that today would be bad news. One day? Perhaps. But today is good news. I'll take what I can get.
I have no flippin' clue as to what's going on or how to feel about it. Optimism with a huge piece of caution pie, please. And I know we'll know more at our ultrasound on Monday. No, strike that, we may not truly know until we either have this baby or don't. But at this point, that's a chance I'm willing to take.
And then, the next appointment-silence. No heartbeat. An embryo that had arrested weeks before.
The moral this tale taught me was that even when you think you're out of the woods, you might not be. Sometimes early signs are warnings of things to come.
But then another part of me has learned stories of fighters out there who defy statistics, fighters who once seemed out of the game but came roaring back onto the scene, proving everyone wrong. I pray that this one is the latter.
On Monday, our beta was 325. A perfect doubling time every two days over a four day period of time would be 1300. Today, we were at 1580. I couldn't convince myself that today would be bad news. One day? Perhaps. But today is good news. I'll take what I can get.
I have no flippin' clue as to what's going on or how to feel about it. Optimism with a huge piece of caution pie, please. And I know we'll know more at our ultrasound on Monday. No, strike that, we may not truly know until we either have this baby or don't. But at this point, that's a chance I'm willing to take.
Thursday, September 20, 2012
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.
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.
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