My first beta, drawn on Saturday morning, was miraculously positive. It wasn’t high (36 at 12dpo) but it was positive. My first positive! And my progesterone was 40, which is completely acceptable. The nurse told me to take it easy, come back Tuesday for a repeat and, STOP TESTING. She said I will only drive myself crazy and whatever was going to happen was going to happen. I didn’t listen. And because of that, the last three days have felt like a month.
Friday night I had a reasonably dark test line on an Answer. Saturdays tests were lighter than the one I had taken the night before. I was somewhat relieved when they called with my beta number, but all hope faded away Sunday morning as I took the last non-digi test I had in the house, a Clearblue Easy +/-, and got a line so much lighter that I immediately started panicking.
I called my mother. In a shrilly voice that didn’t sound like mine, I asked what I was supposed to do, just sit around and wait to start bleeding? Her response was, ‘Well, if that happens, you’re just going to have to try again.’ I know she didn’t mean it to be insensitive and was just trying to stay upbeat, but it only upset me more.
I called my husband at work, who couldn’t talk because all of his coworkers were within hearing range and he couldn’t go outside at that moment.
My boss called and I told her. She said to try to remain positive, relax, read, paint my nails. Distract myself. I wished that were remotely possible.
Instead, I crawled into bed with my sad little test and tried to sleep. I cried, looking at the test every thirty seconds or so in case it had somehow darkened. Things looked very bleak as I wondered if it would just feel like AF or it would be worse. It occurred to me that if I hadn’t been going through all the treatments, if I hadn’t been obsessively testing since 5dpo, if I hadn’t been paying attention I would probably just think it was my period. And then I had a horrible thought. If the bleeding didn’t start, they would need to remove my tiny almost-baby by force…
So the last few days have been very long. I’ve tried to keep busy, going to a concert in Philadelphia on Sunday night and a friend’s birthday party last night–that was a weird feeling. I was at a bar–well a bar/restaurant–with a group of friends from work, and I was drinking club soda. Stefan was able to have a few beers because he knew I wasn’t going to get tipsy and need him to drive home. It actually felt good to be so in control. But drunk people smell kind of gross–I had never realized that before. I could smell the alcohol coming off their skin.
Anyway, today is my repeat beta. I’m nervous, but resigned. I’ll accept whatever they tell me and move forward. I will keep in mind that many women have experienced loss and my loss would be no more tragic than anyone else’s.
But I will also pray for a miracle.