My period was still MIA and my pregnancy test
was still positive, so I made an appointment to get my hCG levels checked. They
drew my blood on Monday and told me to come back on Wednesday. The numbers
should double, and that's one way to reassure you that things are going well in
the pregnancy, as it's too early for an ultrasound. Of course, I spent Monday night
Googling, but everything said, you need two numbers for the test to be of
value. No one called me from the doctor's office with the first number, and I
figured I would just get it when I went back on Wednesday.
The tech tracked down the doctor after drawing
my blood to get the number. I sat quietly in the same waiting room where I had
gotten such terrible news. She brought it over written on a yellow Post-It note.
1247. "But what does it mean?" I asked. She kept saying that you really need the
second number, but I wanted answers and I kept pushing. I wanted to know if it
was a normal number for early pregnancy. Finally, she said, "You can be
tentatively positive. Don't freak out but don't get too excited, either." As I
left the office, I felt sick. Something was wrong. I knew it. The number was too
low. That little bit of spotting last week. I felt the pins holding me together pop out as
I got into my car. I sat there for a long time, crying. I finally called my
husband and told him that it wasn't looking good. He kept reassuring me, that
we would be OK. But I felt so crushed at the thought that this might not work
out again and I couldn't help but wonder, how many miscarriages can a marriage
Going for an ultrasound and seeing your baby for the first time should be thrilling, but that has been taken away from me because of our first crushing experience of seeing the baby and hearing the heartbeat and then being told the pregnancy wasn't viable ...
We haven't even been married a year, but the
darkest part of me is scared he will leave me if we can't have a child. It's an
irrational thought, but it's a fear that I can't shake. What if it's just us?
The truth is I never thought much about having kids until I fell in love with
my husband. I wasn't sure I wanted them and my last boyfriend had kids, which I
found to be very liberating. He wasn't concerned about procreating. But my
husband is so smart and talented that I found myself fantasizing pretty early into
our relationship about what our kid might be like, and I was surprised to
discover that I really wanted to have his baby. I was so devastated when it
didn't work out the first time.
So here we are in round two. This morning
I was walking the dog and talking on the phone with my brother when my doctor's office called to tell me my hCG numbers had doubled and that they could
see me as soon as Monday for an early ultrasound. She said they should then be able
to see what they need to see. I'm not exactly dreading the appointment, but
I'm not looking forward to it either. Going for an ultrasound and seeing your
baby for the first time should be thrilling, but that has been taken away from
me because of our first crushing experience of seeing the baby and hearing
the heartbeat and then being told the pregnancy wasn't viable. Then there was the second
ultrasound with no heartbeat. Then the third saying there was tissue remaining
and that I would need a second D&C.
I'm in full coping mode right now. I went to
therapy last night, I have an appointment on Saturday for reiki, which I don't even believe in, but I'm trying to control the
things I can control—no caffeine, no alcohol, healthy eating and exercise. I
just want to do something even though I know logically it's all beyond my
control. The woman doing the reiki is my husband's best friend's mother. He and his wife believe that she made the birth of her grandson
possible. He was conceived with an IUD in place and by an older mother. It was considered a high-risk pregnancy. I'm skeptical but I figure it can't
hurt and I can feel like I'm doing something and who knows? Maybe it
I need all the good energy I can get right now, and so does the
collection of cells that just might be our baby.