The two week wait aspect of IVF really has been mindblowingly challenging. Partly because of all the effort, TWO MONTHS of drugs, road blocks and ups and downs, an intense emotional and physical roller coaster. So now- I’m just so emotionally and physically exhausted- I just want it to have worked.
My expectations for this wait was that either a) nothing would happen, I’d get the blood test and be pregnant or not or b) I’d get my period and that would be that.
Except. Sunday marked the beginning of a week of alternate daily spotting where I vacillated between “it’s ok” to feelings of catastrophic defeat. Every single trip to the bathroom was (is) an exercise of pure dread, followed by hope and finishing with crushing disappointment.
Oh sure some women spot throughout pregnancy, but spotting is also a sign of miscarriage.
On Wednesday the fertility clinic suggested I go get blood work done this past Friday- four days early because it might make me “feel better”. After some careful and long consideration I decided to go ahead. I thought the results would either be a) definitely NO or b) not sure try again.
Except. It wasn’t. Blood test results came back that I am definitely pregnant RIGHT NOW. Amazing. But- with a level of 52 it’s still low and the spotting is now a daily thing in combination with weird twinges. Not pain, but not awesome.
The nurse (after chewing me out for going early- even after I explained it was THEIR suggestion) informed me that although I was pregnant then, it’s very possible that I’m in the middle of a miscarriage. And to enjoy being pregnant (subtext- while I can).
All day yesterday I went from being deliriously hopeful to so so sad. Every twinge, every symptom (or lack) is being analyzed. When I mentioned to Andrew that I was scared I was truly miscarrying he didn’t want to hear it. He is so excited, choosing to be hopeful and positive. Which is great- but so hard for me to do with every twinge I feel and every trip to the bathroom reminding me that I might be watching the little bean be flushed out of my body.
So now, I’m keeping the anxiety to myself. And trying my damndest to stay somewhat positive.
Next Thursday is my second blood work. My levels will have to go up significantly, or it means that the little bean is truly gone.