Hi there. Sorry to leave you hanging.
Here’s what happened: first off, I was legit busy all weekend. I was all go, go, go for two solid days, and you know what, it was wonderfully distracting. Saturday Eric dragged me on a ten mile bike ride with my brand new bike (I know, weird purchase for this juncture of my life, but whatever). It was hard, but when we were done I felt strong and accomplished. Then I came home and fell into an intense sleep for about an hour. I woke up, called my mom, met up with her and my little sibbies and went for a hike. Oh yeah, most active day EVER! Then we all went over to my parent’s house for steak and a campfire. And then…finally… New Hope called at 7:30.
My first beta was 69.
So that was great, but then my old friend worry started creepin’ in. You see, my throat was being all kinds of weird this week, and then this weekend it started leveling off. It started feeling normal. An optimistic person would think, oh, I must have managed to fine-tune my diet to just where it needed to be. But what I thought was, “It got better because something went wrong. This is definitely going to be a chemical pregnancy.”
Sunday, after doing some serious praying at church, I went to a Renaissance Faire with my best friends. It was seriously so much fun, and again, just the right amount of distraction. Plus they had plenty of foods that worked well for me (um, hello, Steak on a Stake). We even got to do grape stomping! I was able to stay in good spirits all day.
This morning, not so much. I woke up miserable and dreading the beta. It all came to a head when I actually got the blood draw. The kind tech had soft, warm hands and could tell I was shaken up. She asked if I was nervous about getting stuck with a needle, and I laughed and said I was a pro at that. When I admitted that I was terrified of the results, she kind of patted my arm and explained in broken English (this is a theme with me, it appears) that her daughter just had a miscarriage and was devastated. She was very compassionate, which really set me over the edge. By the time I left I was openly crying…from nerves, from fear, from the whole stress of this pregnancy in general. I am not calm. I am not peaceful.
Then I got to wait allllll dammnnnnn dayyyyy for my phone call. I finally broke down at 4 and emailed them, asking nicely for the results. No reply. I came home from work, changed into yoga pants, and pulled the covers over my head (I told you that was my coping mechanism). I woke up around 6:30 and heard my email “ding!” It was New Hope.
Second beta is 188.
Instantly, relief washed over me. I don’t think I’ve ever been this freaked out over betas, so now I’m really dreading ultrasounds. Here’s the worst part. At my old job I was able to work from home, so on ultrasound days I just worked from the road. At my clinic they make you do ultrasounds after 10 a.m., so there’s no possible way I can be back in town and working by noon. Working from home is not an option. And I’m not taking 3 (unpaid) days off work. So. I’m going to have to do outside monitoring for ultrasounds, which is fine, but it means I won’t get the results until they call me since the techs aren’t allowed to tell you. THOSE days are going to be absolute torture. Plus, if I do get that call at work? Sorry, no heartbeat? Ugh. I can’t imagine. I guess I’ll just deal with it when I get there.
I hate the guessing game. I hate not knowing. It’s funny how everyone says to me, “Oh that diet sounds so difficult! How do you do it?” It’s really not hard. The truth is that I’d gladly eat nothing but turnips and motor oil for nine months if it guaranteed a baby, and I’d do it with a huge smile. The hard part is not even knowing if what I’m doing is working. The hard part is being so terrified to lose something I want so much…again. The hard part is getting my hopes up all over again. The diet? Easy. Not having any semblance of control? Nope, not easy.
Have to go now. My covers are beckoning.