Happy and sad tears and scared tears and just tears
July 24, 2013 § 42 Comments
I owe you guys a little bit of an update, I think.
First, again, I think I a-little-bit love each and every one of you. Thank you for your support. It has been mind-blowing.
Today (like yesterday and the day before and the 5 days before that), I am barely pregnant. 4 weeks and 5 days pregnant, to be exact. This week has gone by incredibly slowly, and I can’t imagine that the next two will be any quicker.
I feel like I need to fill in the last week, so here it is. This will be wordy and manic, for sure. But I really need to be dissertating right now, so I’m going to leave grammar and proper paragraph formation to the real writers out there.
The day I found out that first beta was positive was absolutely surreal. I was home by myself when I heard the news. The nurse called at 10 AM, which is EARLY (usually they call around noon), so I wondered briefly if something good might be up. Why would they rush to deliver bad news? But no, of course not, Lentil. Don’t be silly. This cycle is a bust. You are doing IVF in September. All she said was, “Lentil, is it a good time to talk?” And you guys. I knew then. Because I could hear the excitement in her voice. And then she said, “Good. Because I have some wonderful news for you.” I think I might have yelped. And then cried a little. And then told her (nonsensically, I believe, as I was not in any state to be storytelling) about the avocado allergy and the vomiting at work. And then I had to KEEP being home by myself for the rest of the day. I was super antsy couldntsitstill so I went out. I decided on a whim that I did not want to tell Artsy Engineer about the positive beta until he got home and I could do it in person. I knew he had meetings all day and it just didn’t seem like an option to tell him in between meetings when the excitement might have to be cut short. It was a weird decision and not at all like me. I hate big to-do’s. I hate surprises. But in that moment, it just seemed like the only decision.
So I lied. I sent him a text that the beta was negative. It was cruel. I’m not sure what I was thinking.
Anyway. Antsy. I went out. And I went to Target to buy some pregnancy tests, because dear GOD I had been waiting so long to see that second line. The manager checked me out when I was making my purchases. She was a woman about my age. Probably 8 months pregnant. And she said, “make sure you don’t throw away the instructions, because there are always dollar off coupons on them for another set of tests.” And my infertile radar was like, she’s one of us. And so I said, “thanks! It looks like you’ve probably used these once or twice.” And. Get this. Right there while she was checking me out, with a line of people behind me, she confirmed my suspicion. She said that she used them A LOT. That it took her three years. And that the month before she conceived, she was told she would never have children. That she needed to have to have a hysterectomy. She wished me luck and told me to maintain hope. It was incredible. Here I was, one hour pregnant, and my first ever random real life infertile meeting happens. And it was a wonderfully uplifting story. I floated out the door. And I went home and took that pregnancy test and, at 12 days past ovulation, that sucker was darker than the control line. UNREAL. Is this really happening? And to me?!
Then, I went to Pea in the Pod (what the hell was I thinking?!) and bought a onesie (and got a free baby bottle.. so weird! for me?) and to Barnes and Noble and bought a baby name book and to the market and bought a jellybean assortment. And I came home and made a babyarrangement on the table. I was going to present to Artsy Engineer our pregnancy.
And then he hit infertility rock bottom. He called on the way home and just let loose with the itsnotfair’s and the screweveryoneelse’s and the curse words and the tears. And I felt like a monster. But I was sooo close to being able to tell him in person, so all I could do was say, uh huh; I know, baby; it’s not fair over and over again.
Then he got home and saw the baby stuff and he cried. And cried. He was elated, of course. But somewhere in the crying was a pathetic sounding “why did you do that to me?”
I still feel horribly guilty about it.
The next few days were very difficult. I felt a few hours of relief after the second beta came back well, but it didn’t last long. And on top of intense fear of miscarriage, I was also dealing with another thing.
I’ve been lucky enough to go to grad school in the city near where my parents live. And I’ve loved being close to them. We see them once or twice in a two week period. They live out in the country in this beautiful old farmhouse that was built in the 1800s. There is an enormous garden, and wildlife, and a skyfull of stars. To say that this home has been a safe haven for me over the past 5 years is to put it mildly. This has been my refuge. My warm place. My place of peace.
I’ve known for a year that they were moving this weekend. They got jobs at the university in their own hometown, where my grandparents and many aunts and uncles still live. At a topnotch university. Six hours away. My dad actually moved in November and would come back every other weekend to be with my mom.
But the time had come. And this past weekend just so happened to be the last weekend that we would get to spend in the house. They actually drive away with the moving truck today.
I cried all weekend. I cried when we pulled up the winding and tree-lined driveway. I cried when I ate my last dinner at the kitchen table. I cried when I saw the stars out there for the last time. I cried over breakfast on Sunday morning. And I sobbed when we pulled away on Sunday afternoon.
But that is that, I guess. I buried the house. I will probably be grieving it for awhile. Just, dearlord, don’t give me two things to grieve.
Beta on Sunday was 569. 41 hour doubling time. So far, it looks like we’re progressing as we should be. But, obviously, it’s still so so early. Part of me wants to scold myself for making purchases. For getting amped up about having a small living thing in my uterus. What if I jinxed it? But that’s a crock of shit and we all know it. If this thing is going to stop growing, it’s going to do so regardless of whether or not I’ve let myself get excited about it.
And over the last day or two, I have. I have allowed some happy thoughts in. I even went to the library and picked up a pregnancy book (or three), so I could read about what’s happening in my body. And I can’t withhold this excitement from Artsy Engineer, either. It wouldn’t be fair. On Monday, he downloaded the What to Expect app on his phone while at work, apparently, and I got the following text while I was breaking between patients:
Hey you. Guess what. The baby is as big as an orange seed and it has these two tubes which will fuse together soon to become the two main chambers of the heart. Then the brain and spinal cord get sucked up into the baby next week. Cooooool.
And my heart melted.
My next milestone is getting through this weekend. I started bleeding at 5 weeks last time. There is lots of checking for blood. And yesterday I had a bunch of period-like cramping, which sucked because what does it mean? Luckily, I will be going to Chicago this weekend to see my childhood BFF, who is there for a work trip. Hopefully that will provide a little bit of a distraction.
No more betas, though. My first ultrasound is scheduled for 6w4d. 9 am. Tuesday, August 6th. 14 days away (counting today because I still have to make it through today). I think the next two weeks are going to take years.