I am never usually at a loss for words, but today is one of those rare occasions. I’m just having a hard time piecing together what has gone down in the past couple of days. I’ll try to replay it all for you.
Let me start from the beginning…
Remember the day I posted about needing to take a step back, and wanting to give up testing until the beta?
I couldn’t do it. I temped, and tested, and analyzed and scrutinized and hypothesized.
I peed on ALL. THE. STICKS.
All the sticks in the house, all the sticks in the store, all the sticks in town!
They started to have more than one line on Monday night, which was the husband’s 32nd birthday… I thought I was hallucinating, but then I caved and tried the special stick I’d been saving:
After seeing that on Monday night, and promptly flipping my shit, I called the doctor. I may have called under the false pretenses of “double-checking” on what day I needed to get my beta, and the nurse kindly allowed me to come in for a blood draw on Wednesday, which was only 12DPO.
They called me with the results that afternoon:
HCG – 17
Progesterone – 32
They told me that was low and I shouldn’t get my hopes up. I was to test again on Friday, today, the day I was originally supposed to have my beta.
I spent the next 48 hours in a tailspin. I Googled every possible scenario in which this could still be the trigger showing up in my system, or in which I was having a chemical pregnancy, or in which I was having an ectopic pregnancy. I barely allowed myself to be happy I even had enough HCG in my blood to register a technical positive, which has never happened before.
This morning, I showed up at the lab bright and early. Despite the fat, old, sweaty, smellin’-like-cat-piss lady that sat next to me in the waiting room, the trip was uneventful.
The nurse called me with my results around lunchtime:
HCG – 39
More than double.
Doubling time of 40.5 hours.
The standard for a healthy pregnancy is a doubling time of at least 48 – 72 hours.
I never thought I would type those words. Or say them to the husband. Or my mother.
Four weeks today.
Estimated due date, April 26th, 2013.
I’m also scared out of my mind that something could go wrong. What if this level is too low? What if this is a chemical pregnancy? What if I tested waaaaaay too early??
For now, I know that I’m going to be terrified. I can handle that. I will probably pee on sticks once a week until my first ultrasound (OMGHOWCRAZYISTHAT???) on September 5th, when they hope to be able to detect a heartbeat.
I just need to make it three more weeks…
I’m so sorry I had to be away for days on end. I know you’ve all been checking on me because I had my busiest blog day EVER yesterday, and I didn’t even post anything, LOL.
I just love you all so much.
After three and a half years of Robot Sex, pills, BatshitCrazyTracy on hormones, Aunt Flo month after bloody month, and shooting up in public restrooms, I finally have what I have been trying so hard for.
The moral of the story is this:
DON’T STOP TRYING, OR IT MAY NEVER HAPPEN.
I am so happy I didn’t.
So unbelievably happy…
**Edit: In case you are reading this post without knowing the whole story, I’m sorry to have to offer this update. This beautiful, hoped-for, long-awaited day would come to an end a little over a month later. Our little miracle, our Gummy Bear, never grew much, and we never saw a heartbeat. I miscarried at 9 weeks, sadly. The story, while sad, does get better, in its own way… If you are here looking for hope, then I hope you’ve found some. There is hope to be had, and miracles do indeed happen. This was not my time, and this was not my miracle, but that doesn’t mean that your miracle isn’t just around the next corner. XOXO**