So, I am spotting. And a little crampy. Long-time readers will recall I discussed a similar circumstance way back here in the summer of 2014.
You can't go through life constantly knocked up, without delivering a live baby, without preparing for this possibility that your next pregnancy will end. If I am having a chemical pregnancy there's no question that it will be a huge bummer. It will be my 5th (possibly 6th) consecutive loss.
But all is not hopeless if this is a chemical pregnancy. For one thing, it means that my body may actually be working better than it has in years. Sure, an early loss stings. A loss at 8 weeks sucks. A loss at 12 weeks that your body for some reason hasn't recognized is pain. A loss in the second trimester is a level of hell that could have been written by Dante.
A chemical pregnancy also means that technically speaking, I am still fertile. Our parts work. Something got fertilized. Maybe I don't need to rush to Boston for a hysteroscopy, which I assure you is nothing like a pleasant day of medical tourism. Flying in to Logan, rushing to the hospital, having a scope rammed through your cervix and perhaps the joy of -- eeek -- microscissors cutting away scar tissue, and then rushing your crampy-assed self back to Logan is so far removed from a nice jaunt at Faneuil Hall.
And finally, a chemical pregnancy could also mean that I could be more fertile next cycle. Maybe I get another chance.