That’s All Folks…

I had some more bleeding so got a repeat blood test. Just got the result and the levels have fallen to 97, so I guess that’s it.

Right now I’m fighting back being upset. Right now I’m just so frigging angry that I have spent the past week eating like a pig from the stress of it all and have probably put on about 7lbs.

How weird is that reaction? I don’t have a baby and no I’m fat for no good reason.

I know the real emotion is bubbling away there under the surface and there will be tears before bed time.

Right now I wish this had just happened a fricking week ago.

Life really sucks sometimes.

Creative Distraction

I’m going to go with the PMA theme again today.

For the past week I’ve been working on knitting a baby blanket. I have never knitted anything before in my life. Well that’s not entirely true, I have started to knit things before, like scarves or hair bands (we’re going back to primary school now), but all I ever ended up with a pathetic six inch long piece that got alternatively wider or narrower and usually had a few inexplicable holes in it. It was not something that I took to naturally. I did join a knitting club for a while (again in primary school), but my only lasting memory of it is the day the teacher asked us what we had dressed up as halloween and one girl proudly announced “a hooker!”

Yep, Pretty Woman was a popular film that year.

Craftiness, in the making things sense, is something that I have come to only fairly recently. I went through a brief garment making phase in my early twenties (with 2 halloween costumes to show for it).

 

Then I went through a cross stitch phase, and then I did bugger all for around 8 years until I had my last baby and decided to make her a quilt. It’s lovely really, if you don’t look too closely at the wonky stitching.

I’m primarily looking for craft projects now for something to keep me occupied and away from google. Unfortunately this has involved way too much time looking at the blogs of highly creative people and on pinterest and has resulting in a growing sense of depression over what a total state my house is in.  Maybe it’s some sort of early nesting, or maybe it’s just the realisation that walls should not be decorated with weetabix and crayola.

Or maybe it’s just that I cannot settle right now and feel the need to be doing something. I can be a shocking control freak at times so if I can’t control what is going on with my body I can try to control what’s going on in my environment.

I hope Tuesday comes before I blow my bank balance on fabric and paint.

Lucky 132?

So… yesterday I was back at the hospital again. I find it rather disconcerting that there are doctors around now who are much younger than I am. I’m not old, I’m young(ish), well young enough that I still look to other people for authority and call my parents “Mammy” and “Daddy.” I find it hard to take life or death medical opinions from someone who looks like they probably still shop in Miss Selfridge and quite enjoys Hollyoaks. I’m sure she’s studied very hard and knows what she’s doing and by the very fact that she attended medical school and therefore got a very good grade in chemistry (which I loved but frankly sucked at) she is more than likely much smarter than me, but still, she looked like she probably only started menstruating a week ago. Luckily she was very capable of taking a blood sample.

I managed to have a chat with a consultant while I was there too. He believed one of three things was happening A. I’m very early pregnant, B.  I’m having a miscarriage or C. It’s ectopic. He seemed a bit baffled by the whole situation to be honest. I don’t think he expected to see the hormone levels rise on Saturday. He looked back over my notes and at the print out from the scan they’d done last Thursday. Then he told me what they hadn’t mentioned at all last week, that my endometrium was quite thin. I had saw them measure it and I had wanted to ask what the result was and what exactly that meant, but I tend to go a bit chicken in the face of doctors and find it hard to ask questions. I do remember staring at the screen after they left the cubicle to let me get dressed last Thursday, and I think the number on the screen was 5 or 6mm. He told me that if the beta hcg levels had doubled they’d treat it as a normal on-going pregnancy and would want to see me again in about a week’s time for another ultrasound or if they only rose a little I’d need to return to hospital that night for another scan and to discuss “surgical options.”

I went home and spent a couple of agonising hours waiting for the phone to ring. About half seven I couldn’t take it any more and called them. The nurse who answered the phone put me on hold for about five minutes or a couple of hours, the passage of time was a bit weird and vague, it certainly felt like a couple of hours. Then she came back, asked me some more questions and put me on hold again. Finally she came back and I got the answer, the levels have risen to 132… so not exactly doubled but risen by more than 60% so the consultant was happy to leave me for now and scan me again next Tuesday.

I’m not sure how I feel. I’m relieved it doesn’t look like an ectopic but I still don’t feel brave enough to consider myself pregnant, okay today I am pregnant (I think), but will I be tomorrow? or next week? I am utterly confused by the situation. I’m running all sorts of crazy scenarios through my head to explain why the levels aren’t adding up with the 24 dpo that I think I am. Maybe I was wrong on the charting, maybe I conceived a lot later than I think, maybe I conceived twins and lost one of them (that would explain early result and then bleeding and very low levels), maybe I conceived, miscarried and conceived again all in the space of about a fortnight, maybe there is some truth in the notion that excess hcg can spill over into breastmilk, maybe there’s a rip in the space time continuum centred on my uterus. Okay… these scenarios are getting outlandish but I am that baffled by what is going on, or not.

I have been fairly good in restraining myself from daily pee stick dunking, admittedly I did do one yesterday before going to the hospital

 

 

though I’m not sure why I did it when it couldn’t actually tell me anything more than the hospital test. Oh and I’m still spotting.

I suspect this is going to be an extremely long week.

 

The Rollercoaster

As much as I think Ronan Keaton is an insufferable gobshite with a speech impediment, he was quite accurate when he sang “life is a rollercoaster.”

The last couple of days have been a rollercoaster, but of the kind where it breaks down half way through the loop and you’re left suspended in mid air with everything falling out of your pockets.

I went back to the gynae ward on Saturday and sat in the waiting area feeling thoroughly sick with nerves. Eventually a nurse came out and handed me one of those little white universal containers, asked me for a urine sample and told me that if the dip test was negative they wouldn’t do a repeat blood test. I nearly burst into tears. I was desperate to know what the beta number was, even if it had plummeted, and I wasn’t expecting a urine test so I’d been knocking gallons of tea into me all morning and had used the loo just before leaving for the hospital. I was certain that urine test would be negative and I’d be sent home without getting the answer I wanted.

It seemed like forever before she reappeared and told me that the test was faintly positive so they were going to do the blood test after all. I promptly burst into tears at that point.

I had a long wait back home before I could ring for the results but when I finally did call what they told me was completely unexpected.

The level had almost doubled from 40 to 79.

I promptly burst into tears again.

The little bit of hope flickered up in me and started to burn bright.

Then the spotting returned and kicked itself up a notch to full on bleeding.

I spent most of yesterday in bed because trying to interact with other human beings set off the whole hysterical crying thing again. When I started to pass small clots last night I resigned myself once again to being over.

Then the spotting stopped again.

Then started again.

It’s like the worst sort of lather, rinse, repeat. I can’t take the stress of this at all. One minute my hopes are high and the next they’re in the gutter.

This afternoon I have to return to the hospital again for another beta hcg count. I honestly don’t know what to expect. Will the levels have risen? fallen? I have this horrible niggling pain in my side too that’s having me endlessly googling “ectopic pregnancy.”

I’m making good progress on the knitting though.

 

Not Great Frankly

I called the gynae ward last night and got the blood test results. The nurse I spoke to on the phone was really lovely, actually everyone I spoke to yesterday was really lovely. It was a huge change from the last time I went through this and I was treated like at best a fantasist and at worst a downright liar.

The beta HCG count was 40. The nurse asked me if they’ve told me what they thought was happening when I’d been with the doctors earlier. I said to her the way they had worded it was either I wasn’t pregnant or it was too early, but personally I thought it was a pregnancy that just wasn’t progressing. She said they still want me to come back on Saturday for the repeat blood test and she was very sorry this was happening. That was a lovely thing to hear, a bit of sympathy and some acknowledgement  that I was going through something. I thanked her before hanging up the phone.

I spent some time then googling HCG levels and HCG calculators. The average HCG level at 19DPO is (apparently, I’m not going to vouch for absolute truth of this) 303 mIU/ml, with a typical range of 111-514 mIU/ml. At 40 I am well below that. My understanding is that the sensitivity of the digital tests is 50 mIU/ml, so if I was getting a positive with them on Sunday, my HCG should be around the 200 mark at least.

I really don’t want to go back for the repeat on Saturday but I understand why I have to. I just don’t want to make the call to get the results.

To add insult to injury the spotting has stopped again as well. If this is going to end, if this has ended, I just want it over with as soon as possible.

I’m feeling this so much more acutely than the last time, maybe because I waited so long for this and I wanted it so badly. I was so happy on Sunday. This was the first pregnancy that I faced without the slightest bit of trepidation or nerves or intimidation at what adding a new baby to our brood would mean, and it just sucks to have it all taken away.

Arse Biscuits

That’s a polite way of saying it hasn’t been a very good day. You may think it’s not that polite, but believe me, it’s way more polite than the string of expletives that I want write.

Actually it’s been such a bad day I feel I am fully justified in quoting Stephen Fry’s “The Liar” –

damn, shit, bollocks and buggery fuck.”

I was trying with the PMA, I really was. I ordered jelly rolls to start making a cot quilt, I started knitting a blanket (no mean feat because I have minimal knitting skills), I even wrote PMA in huge letters on our family notice board to remind me to stop being such a merchant of doom.

Last night I started spotting. I assumed the worst and cried myself to sleep. I had nightmares, woke up, did another test. It was positive, darker than they had been but still not as dark as the control line, and the spotting seemed to have stopped.

I relaxed a bit, went back to bed, slept (badly) and woke up in the morning again to more spotting, now with added cramping.

I had an appointment to see my GP so I went along and had a chat with her.  She phoned the gynae ward at our local hospital and they agreed to see me this afternoon.

The spotting continued.

When I got to the gynae ward they did an internal ultrasound scan and found nothing. That’s not so bad in itself, I’m 4+4 or 4+5 at the most, I think I would have been very lucky to even see a gestational sac. They repeated the urine test and it was a faint positive. My heart just sank at that, at 19 DPO I should be having blaring positives. I should have been having blaring positives for days. They decided to order a beta HCG test and now I’m sitting here waiting for the result, depending on what it is I have to return on Saturday for another blood test.

I’m not feeling terribly optimistic.

Right now I’m in a sort of calm, resigned place. I don’t know if this is the right place to be. I don’t know if I should be doggedly hopeful in the face of this, but if I get my hopes up will it be all the worse if they come crashing down around my ears?

I hate the thought of starting over. I hate to think of all the extra worry I’ll face.

I know one hcg count in itself means very little, it’s the doubling time that’s important, but I dread calling tonight.

Step Away from the Pee Sticks

When I try to show my husband pregnancy tests, and ask him to look for a line, his reaction is not dissimilar to that of Nosferatu confronted with sunlight. He HATES looking at them. He HATES me doing tests. I think this goes back to when I had the miscarriage, I hounded him to look at tests from stupid dpo and then it all ended badly. He’d much prefer it if it was like my other pregnancies and I’d be blissfully clueless until things are a bit more established.

As I said in a previous post though, it’s hard to unlearn things. I can’t stop myself from obsessively testing over and over again and it’s not good for my mental state.

I’m seriously worried about the darkness of the lines I’m getting. I’m 16DPO today and the test as perhaps fainter than the one I did yesterday. This has sent me into a tailspin of anxiety. I’m furiously googling images of other positive tests at 16DPO and comparing mine, and the comparison is not favourable.

I am scared. I am really, really scared. Again, this harks back to the miscarriage where it took me to 12/13 DPO to get a positive and the digital test with the conception indicator wasn’t lining up the way I thought I should.

My paranoid, catastrophizing self is going into overdrive, like Jabba the Hut’s little mate, sitting on my shoulder jibbering, prophesying disaster and telling me to throw the Jedi to the rancor.

I guess I worry that I don’t deserve this, or it’s been too easy, or with the soy and the agnus castus and reflexology and the b vitamins and whatever else I’ve been doing I have forced my body into something that it’s just not ready for and I’ll end up paying the price.

As I said, I am scared.

I don’t have an appointment to see my doctor until Thursday. I’ve vowed not to do any more tests between now and then but I’m on major knicker watch now and I think I’ll be a ball of anxiety until I have a scan and see a heartbeat.

I hope I’m just a major drama queen.