For the first week after my beta, I was very optimistic – looking at dopplers and imagining how to tell my mum. Thinking about a January birth, signing us up for a pregnancy information evening.
From 5 weeks 6 days, the brown spotting became heavier. My husband would look at me and call me his “beautiful pregnant wife”, but I asked him to stop. I still don’t feel comfortable saying that word out loud. Every day was a mixture of hope and anxiety. The days ticked slowly past.
By 6 weeks 3 days, there was tissue, and by 6 weeks 4 days, there was a great deal of bright red blood. I didn’t feel any pain, but I knew that this was not a very good sign.
Today was the day of my scan, and I woke up today a bundle of nerves, pushing my husband out of the house so that we ended up arriving at the hospital half an hour early. They had me down for a 12 week NT scan, and as I corrected the receptionist, I felt like such a sham. I hated hearing myself say “I am seven weeks pregnant”. We turned the corner to the waiting room, and I was confronted with a long line of baby bumps. That was really hard for me, watching them walk out with smiles and little print outs of hands and feet. The wait was excruciating, but eventually my name was called.
I dumped my coat and bag on the floor in the corner, and the nurse chastised me, telling me to hang up my beautiful coat. Seriously, my coat. I threw it on a chair, anxious to just get to the scan. They asked me to pop up on the chair fully clothed, like I was getting an abdominal scan. I tried to tell them that I needed an internal scan, but first they started firing all these questions at me. Last menstrual period. 17th April, ovulation 9 days after that. Name of my family doctor? I told them that I don’t have one. Name of my gynaecologist? I told them that I don’t have one. “But you need one!”, the nurse explained “Who is going to follow you through this pregnancy?” This is when I lost it.
With my eyes full of tears, I said to them “There has been a lot of bleeding, let’s just make sure that there is a pregnancy first, then I can answer these questions”. I could barely stand or speak after that, and my husband gently took over, telling them about our reproductive history. They asked me to take my pants off, and I sat on the table half naked and shaking.
My uterus came into focus, and it was the same as I have always seen it – tight as a clam. The doctor was called quickly. They interrogated me – what made me think I was pregnant? Just a urine test at home? No, I told them, I had a blood test of 477 at 21 days post ovulation. I am so glad I got that blood test. I am glad that the system has some sort of concrete record that I was pregnant, that I wasn’t just mad.
The doctor was quite kind, gently explaining that she could not see anything in the uterus, and now her job was to search for something outside the uterus. She carefully looked along my ovaries and checked for extra fluid in my abdomen. There were no signs of an ectopic pregnancy. She tried to tell me that “at least you can get pregnant”, but I told her that after two years of trying, a miscarriage isn’t that much comfort.
They sent me off to get a blood test to completely rule out an ectopic, and told me they would send a copy of everything to the fertility centre for their records.
I then walked down the hall to the fertility centre to make another IVF intake appointment, and I was glad to hear that they can fit me in next week.
So how am I now?
I am comforted that I don’t have an ectopic, and I am reassured that I should be able to start my IVF cycle with my next cycle.
I am relieved that the worrying and anxiety are over.
I am thankful that I have a wonderful husband who held my hand through the whole ordeal, and who manages to make me smile every day.
But I am very sad that I am no longer pregnant.
I am so disappointed that we will never have a January 2011 baby.
I am worried that even if I manage to get pregnant again, I will not stay that way.
I am bitter than two pink lines will never mean the same thing again.
I am exhausted.