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.

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