I don’t even know where to start. As you all know from my previous blog post, I had taken THIRTEEN home pregnancy tests and ALL were negative. You can even ask my friend Laura. We checked those tests like mad — switched filters on the picture to hopefully see a line, inverted it…tried it all. ALL were negative.
Matt and I spent the weekend (Jan 16-17) looking into adoption agencies, checking out the option of using donor eggs, surrogacy…anything to give us the baby we wanted so bad.
So, imagine my EXTREME surprise when my nurse called me to give me the results of my blood test on Monday, Jan 18th. Even though I knew I wasn’t pregnant, the clinic still makes you go in to confirm levels.
Well, we were in fact pregnant.
I was 11dp5dt and my beta level was a low 32. They like it over 50. So they knew (and I knew) it was low, but they’ve seen lower and they’ve seen healthy pregnancies come from these numbers. Plus, we knew we had a normal embryo (or two) so we thought the odds were in our favor.
I ran upstairs and peed on the last stick I had left. Indeed, there were TWO lines. Holy shit. We were pregnant…and with an embryo we KNEW was PGS normal. This was it. We were FINALLY going to have our baby.
The clinic continued to monitor my beta levels and they kept rising as they should.
I took a few more tests to make sure the test line was getting darker…and it was…all good signs!!
I continued weekly acupuncture treatments to help relieve stress and anxiety. I began feeling awful during the day — which I would NEVER complain about — but I knew feeling sick was a good thing.
On Tuesday morning (two days ago), I woke up having period-like cramps. I’ve read everywhere that this was completely normal. However, I also starting having red bleeding. It wasn’t a lot, but enough to freak me out. Matt and I immediately went to our clinic for another blood test. Him and I knew what was happening. We may not have wanted to admit it, but we knew. We were dead silent on the way to the clinic. I was crying while my nurse was taking my blood. And we were dead silent on the way home. It’s an awful kind of silence. It’s the kind where we both know what each other is thinking and trying our best not to lose it…for each other.
I took the day off and laid down the rest of the day. To our surprise, my beta had risen from 916 on Monday to 1194. So we thought, okay maybe this is just a fluke episode and the baby is okay.
I continued my meds the next two days until my beta this morning. We were on pins and needles until we got our results around noon.
And sadly, we miscarried. Again. Our third miscarriage. My HcG beta dropped to 180. It was over. Always on the wrong side of the statistics. That’s us.
If you’ve never had to suffer a miscarriage, I beg of you to please, please thank God that you haven’t had to suffer this heartbreak. EVER. You are so blessed and I hope you know that.
While pregnancy is supposed to be joyous and celebrated, instead I live in fear of each pregnancy. Every time I pee, I check for blood. Every morning I wake up, I make sure my boobs still hurt. Every time I feel cramps, I expect the worst. Every night I go to bed, I pray to God to please, please just let this one be it. But then, it isn’t. I just want to be able to enjoy pregnancy like so many others do.
I wish I could tell you we knew what was going to happen next for us on our journey to three. But I can’t. We know we need a break. We know I’m going to see a new doctor who will run some reproductive immunology tests on me. We know we need time to heal and time for each other.
We had so much love for these embryos. Just like we do for all of our embryos. But this takes the cake. This has been like one big sick joke to me.
And I’m ready for it to be over.