Where I am: 20dpo
There is at least one bug in my belly. If not two.
They called while I was still at work and, because I was going to ask about an ultrasound if the beta was good and also needed to ask about X-rays for my leg, I didn’t answer—zero privacy in my cubicle, and crutches don’t exactly make for quick getaways to the hallway/stairwell.
I listened to the voicemail and it was a nurse I didn’t recognize from a doctor’s office I didn’t recognize. They said my name in the beginning, but I didn’t let myself freak out when she said the beta was over 2,000. I thought, it could be the wrong person. Relax, and call back in a bit.
So my husband came by to pick me up, and I called back explaining my confusion. The nurse said the call was correct, and that the nurse who called me normally worked for the other doctor but was filling in for Dr. O today. I asked for the exact number.
I’ve been scheduled for my first ultrasound which should be at or nearly 6 weeks (it’s tough because I ovulated early, so if you go by my LMP I am currently 4w4d…but if you go by ovulation, I’m closer to 5w). It is at 8:30 a week from today, next Thursday.
Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.
I am so excited and happy. And at the same time, I feel like I’m waiting for the fallout. This is so bipolar! It’s like being excited for a party you know is going to be cancelled. But I am trying to be optimistic. This pregnancy and the bug(s) have already defied the odds: the accident, the elevated thyroid, and so on. I’m so hoping I can continue to fight. I’m so hoping this is the one for me. I want nothing but good feelings for the bug(s) to help further the pregnancy. Positive thoughts, positive feelings. My pal bebepaulo over at Unicorns and Baby Dust said something wonderful recently that really resonated with me:
There is so much out there that can get us wrapped into a ball of anxiety. And I want nothing to do with it, no matter how hard the world tries. I think the stress of the betas floored me. And I just can’t. I’m done with that. Anyone with IF has learned they can’t control shit. Even with science on your side, you can’t control shit.
This baby will either grow and be born into arms that loved and fought for it long, long before it was born. Or it won’t. And there’s nothing I can do about it but love it at this very moment.
She said it perfectly. We have so much on our side, science and good doctors and good medicine and everything. But pregnancy is still a mystery. Even in 2014, even with all the technology and knowledge we have now, there are things in the world we still can’t figure out 100%. Pregnancy is one of them. Infertility and pregnancy, in particular.
I need to move forward knowing that I did what I could with the time I was given. I am taking the medications I need, I got the procedures done that were recommended to me, I have been diligent about blood tests and taking care of myself. Sure, ideally, I would’ve liked to have lost more weight than I did, but hey—I’m here now. I’m doing what I can. I’ve done what I can. Nothing left to do but continue to take care of myself, and think as positively as I can. No matter what happens from here, I know I was pregnant again. I know there’s a baby- or babies-to-be in my uterus right now, fighting for life. I love it or them already. And whether it is a singleton or twins, I don’t care. As long as whatever is in there is healthy and stays in there for the next 8 or so months.
I’m scared. I’m nervous. I’m excited. I’m overwhelmed. I’m in disbelief. I’m in awe. I’m in love.
Please stick, baby junebug(s). Please stay with me. ❤