I started try to get pregnant the day I turned twenty-five, seven years ago.
I turn thirty-two tomorrow. As I settled onto the exam table today for the nurse to draw my blood for beta levels, she asked for my birthday to write on the plastic tube and I rattled it off simply. “Oh! Oh! that’s tomorrow, isn’t it? um, uh, Happy BIRTHDAY!” I felt my eyes well up with tears as I squeaked out a meek thanks, and she quickly backpedaled a bit. “I’m, I’m sorry, I guess it won’t really be the best birthday will it. I’m so sorry, sweetie.” I wish I could have been stronger, i knew she didn’t mean to be hurtful, but somehow it opened the floodgates as much as I tried to hold strong. My appointment went as well as it could have gone. both the doctor and the nurse were kind, compassionate, and informative. I know it would have been hell at my old OB’s office (they were absolutely terrible to me and many of my friends as we went through losses). I am so thankful that I switched.
My doctor talked to me for quite some time, did an internal ultrasound and thoroughly checked each of my tubes (he does his own ultrasounds!). They looked clear. With my bloodwork looking the way it is (namely low progesterone) and the increased bleeding, he feels about 99% confident that we’re dealing with a miscarriage and not another tubal pregnancy. This is the best case scenario in this situation as ectopics can be very dangerous. My blood was drawn for another beta, and we hope that the levels come down quickly. The bleeding has picked up and the cramping feels more like normal menstrual cramps (and sometimes like cramps from hell, but still not the jarring pain I remember from my ectopic), so I feel comfortable and confident that this is another miscarriage and very relieved that it isn’t tubal.
In the last seven years,a lot has happened. Five pregnancies, two miscarriages, one ectopic, one IVF, six IUIs. It’s been a rollercoaster ride.
Most importantly, two beautiful, adorable, sweet kids. I dreamed of this pregnancy turning out much differently. I hoped that age 32 would start with a tiny life in my uterus, a belly that swelled at Christmas with a fully cooked baby ready to be born in the new year, and two big siblings anxiously awaiting their little brother or sister.
It goes by the way of the not so great birthdays I suppose, but I hope I’ll be able to enjoy it a bit tomorrow – the first year, the year I turned 26 without a hint of pregnancy and knew I was infertile. The second year, when I was still dealing with an ectopic pregnancy.
But there was the third year – the year that I spent in the hospital cuddling my days-old baby boy. And every year after that with him where we get to celebrate a new year of his life together days before my birthday. The most amazing birthday present.
Anyway, again, I’m rambling and now both kids are up from another double nap (It’s like they know I needed this, thank you kids!). Sometimes I feel fine, sometimes a dissolve into tears out of nowhere. I’ve been ordered to “do nothing but sit around and eat bon-bons” by my OB’s office, so I picked up some books from the library and a six-pack of IPAs from the liquor store. No running for me until I stop bleeding :-/. It sucks to lose some of that endurance that I picked up from running a half marathon at the beginning of the month, but hopefully I can get another scheduled for later in the year and pick up where I left off.
My OB also seemed unconcerned about my abnormal paps calling them “a step off of normal” and stressing that it takes 3-8 years for abnormal cells to turn cancerous so it’s just something to watch. I need my retest mid-June, but don’t stress about it in the meantime. Hopefully somehow I will get the all clear to do the FET somewhere around the September time frame, but that is something to think about down the line. I need to process this first.
Thank you all for the kind comments, I truly appreciate the support.