Here we go again.

I am still pregnant.  I should be 5 weeks pregnant tomorrow.  On this particular go-around, I wake up feeling queasy and nauseous, and I am exhausted.




Reality is smacking me in the face now that I have returned home from days of beach vacationing.  About 5 days ago, when I was still in the 4 week arena , a pricey Clear Blue digital test informed me I was "3+ weeks pregnant" (the highest level it detects).  This presented quite the shock.  According to the instructions, this means I had the amount of HCG present in my urine to signify 3 weeks had passed since ovulation - a doctor could date my pregnancy as 5+ weeks.  Ummm, ok.  I guess this little cluster is overachieving.  As of this morning, I am still "3+ weeks" on the CB digital.




I have to request betas now. Which means I have to call a doctor.  On my acupuncturist's advice I am going to the nice OBGYN who oversaw my second loss.  We spoke on the phone a few times last year, though never met face to face.  I am hoping that the numbers are high enough by the end of the week to schedule an ultrasound.  High enough to warrant a look-see  to rule out an ectopic pregnancy.




My mind is starting to spin with the potential next steps.  The betas.  Then the weekly ultrasounds. Then more blood labs and nuchal translucency test.  IF we even make it to a heartbeat I know that there is so much more sheer awfulness that awaits that I have yet to experience. The possible chorionic villus sampling (CVS). The possible amnio if I even made it that far (the second trimester might as well be a decade from now, it is so hard to wrap my brain around).  And for anyone wondering, no, I won't proceed in a pregnancy without this invasive testing.  Not given all of the chromosomally abnormal pregnancies I have carried thus far.  I have to trust the fact that I will be seen by doctors at a large urban hospital where high-risk pregnant ladies like myself gravitate to, doctors who perform these procedures routinely, so the miscarriage risks from these procedures will be lower.  If I even make it that far.  And right now, aside from the "if" statements, I can't even bring my brain there.




Case in point: Last night I spent maybe 30 minutes obsessing about what would happen if I needed a CVS because I have a highly retroverted (tilted) uterus.  OMG, just google "CVS and tilted uterus" and you will see why one should never google this.




It's a terrible feeling, this feeling of doom that translates to numb.  I am most fucking angry at the doctors of a particular clinic who told me that it was highly unlikely that I would ever carry a healthy baby to term and planting a toxic seed of doubt in my head.  Even if it's true, it's a horrible weight to throw on a woman who still apparently gets knocked up on a regular basis.
I am angry at myself for not being able to just give up these hopes for another baby.  And then I shift that anger into a different direction, still self-inflicted, but now angry for allowing the feelings of hopelessness to creep in.


There has to be meaning to all of this.


I just need a little luck.  A little positive roll of the genetic dice.  "Healthy babies are born every day to forty-year old women," I reason to myself.  "No, not to you," a snide little voice says. The sheer whiplash between hope and doubt and fear is exhausting.




Pregnancy is a crushing weight.