I have a huge desk calendar on the wall of my cube at work. I had marked my two doctor's appointments for this month and highlighted them in pink so that I knew at glance that these were personal events. The first one was my sonogram on October 2, which we now know was the ill-fated "dead baby day".
The other appointment sits there and mocks me. Today, I was supposed to have what amounted to my 3-month visit. THE day we had been waiting for. The day that the baby becomes real and you are out of the dark Waiting Months. The baby steps into the ray of sunshine from the heavens and angels sing and now we can tell EVERYONE and send out sonogram pictures and SMILE. Sure, you know that bad things can happen, but on this day, percentages magically appear in your favor. This was the day we had been looking forward to.
When I saw this date on my calendar last week, I stared at it for second and contemplated ripping the whole month off. Then, I said to myself, "No. I will not let this date ruin an entire month." So, I used White-Out on it instead. Still, the White-Out mocks me, although not as loudly. Now, I find myself trying to see through the White-Out. What time was that appointment for? I can't remember.
And what do I get instead on this most unholy day? I'm bleeding. Why am I bleeding? I sneak into a dark office to call the doctor's office to pose this question. The nurse will talk to the doctor and call me back. That doesn't sound good. Boy, I'm getting tired of being in this position. Blood...not good...dark office/secret phone call...waiting for potentially scary call on my cell phone while trying to look like I'm working, except that I can't concentrate on work....
Ring, ring...."The doctor says you are probably having your period. Oh, and we don't have the results back from the chromosone test yet."
I'm sorry...what? Period? That hadn't even occurred to me. Probably because I haven't had one since May. MAY. And, I don't know...I guess I thought that the two weeks that I bled after my D&C would give me an exemption for a month. Turns out..not.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Random thoughts
I took a week off from work after the D&C. It was originally going to be just a day or two, but I just didn't feel like going back yet.
I wish my workplace had a "cry room". I feel like I'm suffering in silence. I have invisible pain and scars that don't heal. I don't have a bandage that I can point to or a picture of a deceased loved one....oh, I have pictures. Buried in the closet are tiny black & white photos from the 2 previous sonograms. They don't look like much. The one sonogram picture that actually looked like a baby was the one that didn't get printed out because it was a picture of a baby that no longer had a heartbeat. We sat there in the room staring at that picture that the technician had accidentally left on the screen. After several minutes of silence, my husband got up and turned the screen off. Later, I would comment that I'm a little sorry that we didn't ask for that picture. "Why?!" he said. Because it was proof, the only proof, that there was a little person in there. That we weren't hurting for no reason.
I've noticed that there are miscarriage buzzwords like "don't minimize." I struggle with this.
I wish my workplace had a "cry room". I feel like I'm suffering in silence. I have invisible pain and scars that don't heal. I don't have a bandage that I can point to or a picture of a deceased loved one....oh, I have pictures. Buried in the closet are tiny black & white photos from the 2 previous sonograms. They don't look like much. The one sonogram picture that actually looked like a baby was the one that didn't get printed out because it was a picture of a baby that no longer had a heartbeat. We sat there in the room staring at that picture that the technician had accidentally left on the screen. After several minutes of silence, my husband got up and turned the screen off. Later, I would comment that I'm a little sorry that we didn't ask for that picture. "Why?!" he said. Because it was proof, the only proof, that there was a little person in there. That we weren't hurting for no reason.
I've noticed that there are miscarriage buzzwords like "don't minimize." I struggle with this.
I hated getting sympathy emails. I hated hearing other people's stories if their conclusions differed from mine. I was still angry, so I didn't want to hear about anyone who later had a successful pregnancy and decided that it happens for a reason. I think I just wanted to be mad for awhile.
As I filled out my time sheet for the week I took off, I suddenly wondered if this would fall under "bereavement." I called our HR chick and she said, "Well, that is the first time this question has come up, but I don't see why it wouldn't count." Gee, thanks. I'm happy to be blazing new trails here.
From my journal: "My mood changes hourly. I did really well today, but tonight I'm a basketcase again.
Simple things set me off. Like looking at my calendar and noticing that we had a special appointment scheduled for this Friday. It was originally supposed to be the 3 month marker. I felt a fluttery sensation that might have been a kick, but obviously, it wasn't.
Biggest annoyance: the guy who tells EVERYONE about his pregnancies the day after he finds out because "miscarriage" doesn't even occur to him. It isn't his fault, of course, but it still hurts.
D&C
Friday, October 3...I had a D&C this time. My doctor said that if I allowed the miscarriage to happen on its own, it would be very painful and there was no telling how long it would take. Possibly weeks. That didn't really sound like fun. She also said that if I had the procedure done, they may be able to save a sample of the tissue and have it tested to see if there was an obvious problem. She told me that they very rarely find an answer this way, but it doesn't hurt to try.
The D&C was the single most humiliating experience of my life. My mother, my husband and his mother came to the hospital with me. They had to schedule me during my doctor's lunch break, but unfortunately, she is a doctor, so they couldn't plan this easily. They took me to a little corner of the Same Day Surgery center that had a bed and drew the curtains around me while I changed. There were at least a dozen of these curtained sections all lined up next to each other. I laid on that bed in my silly little gown for HOURS waiting. About 8 different nurses came in to ask me the same questions. I could hear every conversation that every other patient was having. There was NO privacy, despite the silly curtains. I could hear the man next to me having to pee in a bedpan. I could hear the nurses refer to us as numbers, as in "Number 6 is waiting for a consultation."
I wanted to scream and run out of there and very nearly did. I just cried and fell asleep occasionally. I kept my husband with me as long as possible. He understood that I was grieving and terrified and just needed a hand to hold. I was so scared that with so many different patients here for different procedures with different doctors that they were somehow going to mix me up with someone who needed an appendectomy or something of the sort. The only time I had ever been "put under" was for having my wisdom teeth pulled the year before.
Finally, I got to see my doctor. Even though I knew the answer, I asked her the question that had been plaguing me since the day before. "Is there any possibility that there was some sort of equipment malfunction? Maybe we should do the sonogram again?" She looked at me with such pity as she slowly shook her head.
The D&C was the single most humiliating experience of my life. My mother, my husband and his mother came to the hospital with me. They had to schedule me during my doctor's lunch break, but unfortunately, she is a doctor, so they couldn't plan this easily. They took me to a little corner of the Same Day Surgery center that had a bed and drew the curtains around me while I changed. There were at least a dozen of these curtained sections all lined up next to each other. I laid on that bed in my silly little gown for HOURS waiting. About 8 different nurses came in to ask me the same questions. I could hear every conversation that every other patient was having. There was NO privacy, despite the silly curtains. I could hear the man next to me having to pee in a bedpan. I could hear the nurses refer to us as numbers, as in "Number 6 is waiting for a consultation."
I wanted to scream and run out of there and very nearly did. I just cried and fell asleep occasionally. I kept my husband with me as long as possible. He understood that I was grieving and terrified and just needed a hand to hold. I was so scared that with so many different patients here for different procedures with different doctors that they were somehow going to mix me up with someone who needed an appendectomy or something of the sort. The only time I had ever been "put under" was for having my wisdom teeth pulled the year before.
Finally, I got to see my doctor. Even though I knew the answer, I asked her the question that had been plaguing me since the day before. "Is there any possibility that there was some sort of equipment malfunction? Maybe we should do the sonogram again?" She looked at me with such pity as she slowly shook her head.
Miscarriage #2
We started trying to conceive the week after the miscarriage. And boy did we try! No matter how tired we were...we were gonna make a baby. It was exhausting. :) We kept this up for several weeks until Hub broke his foot. He started taking pain medication that knocked him out, but strangely, I kept falling asleep before he did. Almost like clockwork, 9 pm would roll around and I would have fallen asleep while we watched a movie in bed. I figured that stress was really getting to me. We were pretty busy with our full-time jobs, side business, parenting and baby-making. I noticed that my breasts were incredibly tender and I was slightly more emotional than usual, so I figured that I was getting ready to start my period and therefore, disappointed that we had missed our ovulation window. When my period didn't come, I began to hope.
Monday, August 18...Hub talked me into taking a pregnancy test. It was negative and we were both surprising upset. I cried most of the night. We had been doing so well and then suddenly all of the feelings came rushing back. I kept thinking about the baby that I "had", but "lost". Now, we were going to be another six weeks behind on our "schedule". I remembered the panic that I feel every time someone asks me about Princess. I know what the next question will be..."So, when are you going to have another one?" It takes all of my willpower not to outwardly grimace. My response lately has been a generic, "We've been busy, but we're thinking about it." Oh, boy, are we thinking about it. All The Time. I REALLY wanted to be pregnant. To have the big belly, to feel it kick, to hold it and rock it to sleep. I was ready!!!
Sunday, August 24...Hub's 30th birthday. His family was up for the weekend, so I didn't mention my suspicions to him. At his party, I elected not to drink, just in case. I still hadn't started my period and I just didn't see how my symptoms added up to anything other than a baby. For the first time ever, I took a pregnancy test without telling Hub. There was one test left over from the pack we used the last week, so I thought I'd just see what happened. I got an "invalid result", which apparently means that I took the test wrong or the test was broken. At this point, I was a pro at pregnancy tests, so I knew it was just a janky test. It was generic, so I made a vow to only buy name brand tests from now on. I'll admit, I was a little on edge after that. Considering that the miscarriage had resulted after faint positive lines, I was leery of these tests anyway.
After weeks of abstaining, my next journal entry was....
Monday, August 25..."Norman Mailer--I'm pregnant!" *Gilmore Girls, Season 5
We decided to take a pregnancy test and were overjoyed to get a very solid positive result. The lines were not at all faint. We took another to be sure, of course, and got the same result. Tears, laughter, hugs, kisses....underscored by some hesitation. Our last experience shocked us, so this time we knew we'd be a little move reserved. We vowed to be excited and enjoy our time with this baby, however long it may be. No point in worrying about what we can't change, we said. Obviously, easier said than done.
Monday, August 18...Hub talked me into taking a pregnancy test. It was negative and we were both surprising upset. I cried most of the night. We had been doing so well and then suddenly all of the feelings came rushing back. I kept thinking about the baby that I "had", but "lost". Now, we were going to be another six weeks behind on our "schedule". I remembered the panic that I feel every time someone asks me about Princess. I know what the next question will be..."So, when are you going to have another one?" It takes all of my willpower not to outwardly grimace. My response lately has been a generic, "We've been busy, but we're thinking about it." Oh, boy, are we thinking about it. All The Time. I REALLY wanted to be pregnant. To have the big belly, to feel it kick, to hold it and rock it to sleep. I was ready!!!
Sunday, August 24...Hub's 30th birthday. His family was up for the weekend, so I didn't mention my suspicions to him. At his party, I elected not to drink, just in case. I still hadn't started my period and I just didn't see how my symptoms added up to anything other than a baby. For the first time ever, I took a pregnancy test without telling Hub. There was one test left over from the pack we used the last week, so I thought I'd just see what happened. I got an "invalid result", which apparently means that I took the test wrong or the test was broken. At this point, I was a pro at pregnancy tests, so I knew it was just a janky test. It was generic, so I made a vow to only buy name brand tests from now on. I'll admit, I was a little on edge after that. Considering that the miscarriage had resulted after faint positive lines, I was leery of these tests anyway.
After weeks of abstaining, my next journal entry was....
Monday, August 25..."Norman Mailer--I'm pregnant!" *Gilmore Girls, Season 5
We decided to take a pregnancy test and were overjoyed to get a very solid positive result. The lines were not at all faint. We took another to be sure, of course, and got the same result. Tears, laughter, hugs, kisses....underscored by some hesitation. Our last experience shocked us, so this time we knew we'd be a little move reserved. We vowed to be excited and enjoy our time with this baby, however long it may be. No point in worrying about what we can't change, we said. Obviously, easier said than done.
I immediately called my doctor's office to schedule an appointment. When I spoke to the receptionist, she asked for my LMP (last menstrual period). I explained that I had a miscarriage the month before and I didn't have a period in between, so....May, I guess? I remember what she said, "If you've had a miscarriage, then we consider this a high-risk pregnancy. You'll need to speak to a nurse." I was expecting a little more attention this time around, but her words alarmed me. "High-risk pregnancy"?
The nurse said that they'd like to test my hormone levels again. When I reached a certain level, they could do a sonogram to date the pregnancy. So, back to the lab to have blood drawn.
Wednesday, August 27......Results from blood test #1: HCG was 232, Progesterone was 11.8. I was crying when the nurse called because I was so worried. She said we'd test again tomorrow and get me results right away. By her calculation, I was probably 2-4 weeks pregnant. I was worried because my lower back was hurting again, but the doctor said not to worry.Thursday, August 28......Results from blood test #2: HCG was 626, Progesterone was 9.3. My HCG nearly tripled, so that was good news. However, my progesterone went down, so the doctor put me on a progesterone supplement. The doctor said we'd retest my levels next week and once my HCG hit 2,000 they could do a sonogram.
When I read the information sheet about the drug, it said that you shouldn't take it during pregnancy. Obviously, my doctor knew I was pregnant, but then I wondered what the danger was. I did a little research and found that some people believed that this supplement would keep a pregnancy that perhaps should otherwise be allowed to miscarry. I suddenly didn't know how I felt about this. With the first miscarriage, I remember them telling me that something was likely very wrong with the baby and that is why I was miscarrying. I would sit there crying to myself, "But I want this baby, however it is." But, did I really want that? I wasn't sure. If the baby would be very ill or have life-threatening problems, did I want to deal with that? Would it be fair to the baby? I felt like I was being tested on a moral level.
I called the doctor and asked her about this. She said that the supplement would NOT hold a pregnancy that would otherwise miscarry, but would help keep a healthy pregnancy. If a miscarriage was inevitable, this supplement would not stop it. That made me feel better.
Thursday, September 4...Results from blood test #3: HCG was 3,790, Progesterone was 28. After the nurse gave me the results, she transferred me to the receptionist to schedule a sonogram for tomorrow. I wanted to see the doctor so that we could talk face-to-face and she could assure me that things were ok, but she didn't have anything open until October. The receptionist kept telling me that I'd have to see a nurse practitioner and I was getting upset. Then, she pointed out that I was probably only 4 weeks along and that means what? I don't get to be worried about the baby, or just that I'm not as important? I felt like the whole staff could use a little sensitivity training. After my experience, I sure would have appreciated a little more personal attention.
I had been thinking that I was 7 or 8 weeks pregnant, but the nurses were saying 4 weeks. It was hard to say since I didn't have an LMP to go by, but I knew when we were "trying" and that is the time frame I was using. So, then I started worrying that the baby wasn't developing normally. Hub got mad and asked when we get to be excited about the baby. I couldn't help it. I was anxious all the time. I cried when they took blood, I cried when I got results and there appeared to be no pleasing me. I was happy for a brief moment when I got good results, but then I found something else to worry about.
Friday, September 5....We finally got to see a sonogram of the baby. You couldn't tell what much was and couldn't see a heartbeat yet, but it was still nice to have confirmation that there was a baby. They had to do the sonogram vaginally because she couldn't see anything the normal way. We saw my uterus, the gestational sac and the yolk. Her measurements showed that it was 5 weeks and 1 day old. I told the technician that I thought the baby should be older, but she said that the measurements were in line with the HCG levels and there was no reason to suspect that anything was wrong. She suggested that we do another sonogram in a week and a half to see the heartbeat.
We were kind of confused as to how all of this worked. With our daughter, we would have a sonogram and then see the doctor afterward. At this point, I was getting direction from a nurse and a sonogram technician and hadn't even seen my doctor yet. I wasn't sure what was supposed to be going on and there wasn't one single person to contact with questions.
We put the sonogram picture on the fridge and showed it to P. She didn't seem impressed. We gave away our dog that weekend. While he used to be my baby, he didn't get nearly enough attention since P was born. With another baby on the way, we thought it would be best to find him a good home where he could be spoiled. It was hard, but we felt like it was the best thing for everyone. A friend brought her 6-month old son over and P seemed pretty interested in him. I asked her if we could keep him and she said, "yes". She keeps asking where her brothers and sisters are and I keep telling her that she doesn't have any yet. It is kind of funny because I don't think she understands what brothers and sisters are, but kind of sad because I do and I really want her to have at least one.
Thursday, September 18....That morning at work, I saw a tiny amount of blood when I used the restroom. I hated that I still felt like I needed to look every time I wiped. I had an immediate flashback to July. I called the doctor's office right away. The doctor that called back asked if I had any cramping and I said "no." He said that spotting is common in the first trimester, but considering my previous miscarriage, he said to come in right away for a sonogram. I was absolutely beside myself. Just like before, people saw me crying and it was horribly embarrassing.
I sat in the doctor's office lobby waiting while they finished a staff meeting. I was crying and trying to drink a lot of water for the sonogram. Again, painfully embarrassing. When Hub arrived, they took us back to the room. Again, my bladder was too full, so they did a vaginal ultrasound. We saw the sac and this time, a wriggly thing with a pulsing heartbeat. She had to enlarge the screen quite a bit, but we could see it. She said it was a regular heartbeat.
She measured several times and came up with an age of 6 weeks, 3 days. Since it measured 5 weeks, 1 day when we were in 2 weeks ago, I was worried, but she said that measurements could be off by 5 days at this point. So, we still didn't have a real due date. She said that she didn't see any fluid that would suggest more bleeding was on the way. Normally, they would see pockets of fluid surrounding the sac if that were the case. She said that perhaps the bleeding was from implantation. She said that she couldn't guarantee that I wouldn't miscarry , but they had no reason to suspect that anything was wrong. She gave us some pictures and told me not to do anything strenuous for 2 days.
I was relieved to see the heartbeat, but I still felt like I'd been kicked in the gut...hard. I felt like I had let my guard down and suffered royally for it.
I was emotionally wore out, so I picked some stuff up from work and went home. Hub came home early, too. I didn't have any other problems until late afternoon when I saw another little bit of blood. Again, I showed it to Hub so that we were in it together. We sat there together waiting.
I skipped Bunko that night and my mom and sister came over to help with dinner and the bathing of the child. My mom scared me a little when she asked if having the vaginal sonograms was safe. I hadn't thought about it because I just assumed that these people are professionals and since they hadn't mentioned it, that of course it must be safe. Thankfully, the rest of the weekend passed without incident. I stayed home on Friday, just to be safe. I was still hungry, tired, slightly nauseous and had sore breasts, so I took that as a good sign.
The next week....We were counting the days until the next sonogram. When we were getting ready for bed one night, Hub said, "Yay! Friday is Heartbeat Day!!" I frowned and muttered, "Or, Heartbreak Day." He scowled and said in a harsh tone, "Seriously, when are we going to be able to be excited about this?"
All this waiting...it felt like the longest pregnancy ever. Probably because we had found out so soon and were so anxious. Being unsure of how old the pregnancy was and not having a due date was frustrating, but I went with a guess and signed up for baby update emails. I finally drug out the baby name book and started reading "What To Expect" again. We wanted so badly for the 3 month mark to come so that we could announce the pregnancy. I felt like I was huge already and was thinking I would have to start wearing maternity pants soon. Hub kept saying I was crazy, but one day he finally noticed that indeed, my stomach was noticeably bigger.
Thursday, September 25...We had our appointment with our doctor--finally. They took blood, a urine sample and did a pap smear. Results would be back in a couple of days. She assured us that things were going good. She wanted us to have one more sonogram so that we could see how much it had grown and to reassure us. After that, she said, we would treat it like a normal pregnancy. I felt good afterward. The nurse said that our new due date according to last week's sonogram was May 11. I went to work and circled it on my desk calendar.
I was feeling so good that weekend that my mom and I took my daughter to a cider mill to pick out a pumpkin. We had a great time. She rode a pony and we slid down an inflatable slide and jumped in the moonwalk. I didn't even worry much. I did, however, avoid the apple cider since it was unpasteurized.
Monday, September 29...We got the results from the blood work back. My iron was low, so they had me start taking a supplement.
Thursday, October 2...Heartbeat Day...We had a 10 am appointment, so Hub met me at the doctor's office. We were nervous, but VERY excited. I had to drink a lot of water again, so I stood in the waiting room so that I wouldn't pee all over the couch. I found an article in a magazine about how to acclimate the older sibling to the thought of having a baby. Then, we went back to the sonogram room, where the technician couldn't see anything but my bladder, again. So, I emptied and she used the vaginal tool. We had seen this technician for the last sonogram, so she knew our situation. "How far along was the last miscarriage?" she asked while I got situated. "Six weeks," I answered. "Oh, well, you are already past that point now," she said. We nodded that we had realized that, too and had found some comfort in that fact. She moved around until she found the baby and we watched on the screen. "There's the baby," I said happily, actually breathing a sigh of relief. It was so much more recognizable than just two weeks ago, but Hub joked, "Are you sure that's the baby?" I laughed. "No, not really."
We noticed that the technician wasn't smiling or sharing in our silly conversation. Nor was she pointing out body parts like they normally do. We turned to watch the monitor and waited for her commentary. When she finally spoke, it was with a trembling voice. "It measures 8 weeks, just like it should." She hesitated. I will never, ever forget her next words or exactly how I felt when I heard them. "The only problem is...I don't see a heartbeat."
My heart stopped. I stared at her and waited for her to move the stick around and find the heartbeat. I was sure that she meant that she just needed to look a little more...the baby wasn't in a good position to get one...the machine wasn't working....something, anything. I kept waiting for her to update us, to say, "Oh, there it is! You were hiding, you little rascal." But, those words never came. I turned to look at Hub and his face showed absolute despair and disbelief. That's when I realized that she meant that she wasn't going to be able to find a heartbeat...because it wasn't beating.
The technician finally told me to hold my breath so that the machine could do a scan. I was suddenly hopeful. We watched the lines at the bottom of the screen, searching for a ray of light, but she shook her head. Without looking at us, she said, "Use this to clean up and I'll go get someone to talk to you." Then, she rushed out. That was it. No explanation, no consultation. She obviously didn't want to be the one to break the news. We just sat there stunned. What had just happened? I was confused. I looked at Hub to see if he was as well. He was crying, with his hands on his face.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Miscarriage #1
Monday, July 7....I take a pregnancy test and get a faint positive. We're frantically scanning the instruction booklet for answers. What does this mean? Is the test defective? We finally gather from the verbiage that ANY positive sign means you are pregnant. We decide to run to the store to get another anyway. Pregnancy tests are like Pringles, you can't use just one. I go into the pharmacy, grinning like an idiot and pour over the pregnancy tests. I hate to pay for another brand name test when I already have one at home that tells me I'm pregnant. I consult the pharmacist, even though I know the answer.
"These are all the same, right? Because I have a positive one at home and I just want to double-check." I'm so freakin' excited that the first person I'm telling is the pharmacist, who could totally care less.
"Yeah, I think so, " she says (obviously an assistant). She turns to someone else in the back, "You used a generic one, right? And, you got good news with it." Sold.
We rush home and take the second test...also faintly positive. Hub is jumping up and down, I'm a little more reserved. He reasons that we must have JUST gotten pregnant. We only started trying a couple weeks ago, so the hormones are probably building up still. I'm thinking back to our first pregnancy and I think I remember the doctor saying that these tests detect the presence of the hormone, not the level. He is used to ignoring my killjoy rambling, so he goes to extract a date from the magical internet that can tell you wonderful things like when your baby will be due and...when you got pregnant...which is six weeks ago? Really? We weren't even trying then. Huh. We must be crazy fertile people. He makes a joke...something about how he's Chuck Norris and he can get his wife pregnant just by thinking about it.
Tuesday, July 8...I called my ObGyn as soon as they opened to make my first prenatal appointment and I was flying. Later that morning, I was sitting at my desk and I realized that my lower back was hurting. I Googled "ectopic pregnancy" because that was the first thing that came to mind. The symptoms didn't match, so I relaxed. After lunch, I was in the restroom and noticed a couple drops of blood. I thought it probably wasn't a big deal, but I snuck into an empty office and called the doctor, just in case. The nurse asked me a series of questions, but the one that stuck with me was, "Have you ever miscarried before?" Whoa, Lady. What, what?
She said she'd talk to the doctor and call me back. I hung up the phone and hurriedly Googled "miscarriage". When I saw bleeding and back pain in the same sentence, everything went fuzzy. She called back and said they wanted me to have blood drawn to see if it was a "viable" pregnancy and then perhaps an ultrasound. I didn't like that word and it set me off. I cried. Then, I called Hub and cried some more. He was pretty shocked and said he'd meet at the doctor's office. I needed to tell someone, so I drug a friend into another empty office and told her what was going on, while I cried even more. She tried to reassure me that everything would be fine.
At the doctor's office, I got my blood drawn and then we asked to speak to a nurse. I was a little annoyed that it hadn't occurred to them to sit down and talk to me. I asked her if there was anything we could do once a miscarriage started because I would rather they go ahead and do the ultrasound instead of waiting for test results. She said that nothing could be done and they might not even see anything on an ultrasound at this point; they wanted to confirm the pregnancy first. She said that spotting could happen with a normal pregnancy, but spotting this early wasn't a good sign. However, she quickly pointed out, maybe I have low progesterone and I'll just need to take a supplement, or maybe it is a UTI. There are a number of things that could be happening, but she was confident that it would be fine. So, she sent me home to spend the next 24 hours worrying. Oh, and then I'd need to go back and do another blood test so they could compare the results. So, that means worry yourself crazy for three days. Thanks.
She said to relax and "take it easy" until we got results. Yeah, right. However, we felt a little better knowing that there were innocent possibilities, so we invited my sister over for dinner. We couldn't resist telling her the "good" news and she squealed with excitement about a new baby. P's eyes lit up at the word "baby". "Where's the baby?" she asked. "In my tummy," I answered. She rushed over, lifted up my shirt, poked my bellybutton and said, "Where is it? Where is it?" We laughed, but now I know that was a silly conversation to have with her so soon. We were just so darned excited and hopeful. We did, however, decide to hold off telling the grandparents until we had absolute good news to share. We felt pretty confident that by Friday, we'd have answers and happy news.
Wednesday, July 9...I was at work when I got the call I was waiting for. Over the pounding of my heart, I heard solemn fragments from the nurse. Results from blood test #1: HCG of 19, Progesterone of 2.2. Both very low. HCG is supposed to be in the thousands for a 6 week pregnancy. They will retest tomorrow. HCG should double every two days in a normal pregnancy. The doctor does not expect them to go up. She thinks I'm having an early miscarriage. She expects me to start bleeding heavily soon. I cried and went home. I didn't want to be at work when the bleeding started.
Hub came home, too and we laid in the bed crying. I avoided going to the bathroom until it was critical and every time I held my breath waiting for the Awful Stuff to start happening. When I finally did see a couple more drops of blood, I showed it to Hub so that he knew I wasn't making it up, so that I knew I wasn't crazy, so that we were in it together. Up to this point, he was only hearing about it. Now he had evidence. But, he still thought things might be okay. I love his positive attitude.
Thursday, July 10...I went into the lab as soon as they opened to get my blood drawn again. I cried as she was doing it and she realized why I was there. She said that if I hadn't started bleeding yet, then maybe I wasn't having a miscarriage. I wanted to believe that. She said, "God is going to bless you with a son."
Before I left the building, I went into the ladies' room to compose myself. I didn't want to walk into work looking the way I felt. I wouldn't even have gone in except that I had a project due that day. And there, in the public restroom of the doctor's building, is where it started. When I saw all the blood, I started sobbing. Loud, embarrassing wailing, actually. I had brought pads, but I had still hoped that I wouldn't need them. I had tried to prepare myself for this moment, but it still hurt. Now that I knew the miscarriage was inevitable, I started to worry about HOW it would happen. Would this be painful? How long would it last? Would I need to have a D&C? I didn't know much about them, but it certainly didn't sound like fun. Would it go wrong and I wouldn't be able to have more children?
I called Hub to tell him. I could hear the disappointment and defeat in his voice. I tried to pretend that I was having a normal period, but each time the bleeding increased and it was impossible to ignore the truth. Then, the cramping started. My back was killing me, I had a monstrous headache and I spontaneously broke into sobs in my cube. I hadn't taken a shower and I was shuffling around bleary-eyed and distracted. I was sure that I could smell the blood just sitting at my desk. I knew people were looking at me.
I had to tell a manager that I needed to go home. I knew it would be unacceptable given that my project had to be completed, so I told her the truth, but didn't look her in the eyes once. I sobbed and she was sympathetic. She called a co-worker to help me finish so that I could leave. I said I was "sick" and I knew she was thinking that I was a slacker for leaving. There were some other people that needed to know I was leaving and I alternated between, "I'll fill you in later" and "I'm waiting on some test results". People in the hall would stop me and say that I didn't look good. They got a standard, "I don't feel well" but I'm pretty sure they didn't buy it. It was humiliating. And, I still ended up being there for several hours to get things in order. It frustrated me that I couldn't just walk out. I should have.
In the afternoon, I huddled in the dark office I'd been using for all of my clandestine phone calls and dialed the doctor. After being switched around and accidentally hung up on, I finally got a nurse who told me that yes, they did have my results, but I'd have to wait for this other nurse to call me back. I was so angry. I'm dying here. Yes, I know what is likely happening, but I would love to have someone call and fill me in on the details.
As I drove home, my cell phone rang. I pulled into a parking lot to take the news. It was my actual doctor, which I knew wasn't a good sign. She is so darn cheerful, which I normally love, but obviously wasn't in the mood for today.
"How are you doing?" she asked, drawing out the last word.
I drew a breath, "I've been better."
"Yeah, I suppose you are worried."
"Uh, yeah."
Results from blood test #2: HCG of 8. So, early miscarriage. She said it would be like a heavy period and that if I hadn't taken the pregnancy test, I might not have even noticed. I was a tad offended, but didn't mention the horrific cramps and backache. She said something like 30% of pregnancies end in miscarriage before 6 weeks. She asked if the test lines had been faint and I said "yes". She said if I took a test now, it would probably be negative. The good news, she said, is that they wouldn't need to do anything; it would take care of itself. And, we can try again next month, she said. Her last words were, "We'll be seeing you soon." As in, "Don't worry, you'll be pregnant again and everything will be fine."
I was relieved to finally have the answers, but emotionally wore out. I went to bed and stayed there. Hub picked up P from school and we let her lay in bed with us until my sister showed up with flowers and chocolate. She told P to "be nice to Mommy". P asked about the baby and we all looked at each other, then switched the subject. No sense trying to explain this to her, we thought. She'll eventually forget about the baby and stop bringing it up. We broke the news to our parents, but no one else would ever know about the baby that wouldn't be.
The next few days were full of tears and anger. For years, Hub had questioned spiritual influence and now he had proof, he thought. I had to admit that I harbored a lot of ill will toward God at that point, too. AND SO HELP ME IF ANYONE COMMENTS ON RELIGION...IT WILL BE DELETED. We had to warn our mothers that we did not want to hear anything even remotely resembling, "God has a plan". They had both been through this before during their child-bearing years, so I think it hurt them a lot to see us going through this.
I had trouble sleeping. From my journal: "My mind goes to bad places and I just want to stick sharp things in my eyes." Every time I thought I was doing better, something would set me off. My clothes fit better again...A pregnant lady or a baby book...and suddenly they were everywhere. No less than 10 people that I talk to on a regular basis were pregnant. One with twins. I've never known that many pregnant people before in my life--let alone all at one time. Life didn't seem fair. We were lonely and it seemed like no one cared about our pain.
Another journal entry reflected on my feelings of guilt and disappointment: "I had plans, damn it! And even as I went around blabbing about my "Spring baby" plans to anyone who'd listen, I knew there could be issues that might change those plans, but I was thinking we might not be able to get pregnant right away. I wasn't thinking "miscarriage". "
When I returned to work on Tuesday, I managed to tell a couple of people what had happened without crying, which I took as a good sign. I didn't want to have to retell the story, but I felt like I needed to justify my absence from work during a deadline and that made me feel guilty. At lunch, my friend talked about a friend that chain smokes during pregnancy and I got very angry. There are people that do everything right to protect their baby and end up losing them, but then there are people that don't seem to give a damn and do everything wrong and still get perfectly healthy babies.
On the way home, I felt like I needed to talk to someone. My husband, sister, mother and aunt didn't answer their phones. I started running down my list of friends and realized they were all pregnant. I didn't plan on telling them about the miscarriage because I didn't want them to worry them. I felt lonely and sad. I felt like something or someone was missing. But, how is that possible when I had only known about the baby for 24 hours. It wasn't moving or taking up space yet. Can you miss something that you never had? I didn't feel like I should be taking this so hard. All kinds of crazy thoughts went through my head. Is God punishing me? Why didn't we wait to take the pregnancy test?
We met with a nurse practitioner the next week. That appointment was originally scheduled to be my first prenatal visit, instead, I was going to talk about my dead baby. Even though I knew what she was going to say, I came prepared with a written list of things that I might have done wrong and I read each one and asked if that could have led to a miscarriage.
"Haven't had my teeth cleaned in 8 months? Squatting and being on my feet all day while shooting a wedding? Stress at my job?" She patiently listened to each one and shook her head. There is nothing I did wrong to cause this. We'll never know why it happened, but likely a "chromosomal abnormality", a phrase I heard a lot after the miscarriage. I'd never heard it before, but now I can say it three times fast.
I saved the most important questions for last. "What are the odds of it happening again?" She assured me that while miscarriages are very common, the odds of it happening again are very slim. "One in five pregnancies end in miscarriage, " she said. "This is your one." I kept repeating this phrase over and over. "This is my one. This is my one." It became my mantra when I was scared about the future. Later, it would haunt me.
The last question still weighs heavily on me. "When can we try again?" I had posed this same question to my doctor on the phone call that Ended It All. "Next month!" she had said without hesitation. The nurse practitioner was more cautious. "I would wait one or two cycles," she said. I remember exactly what she said because I wrote it down, but even then I knew I didn't want to wait. She told us that she had read a study that showed there was a "slightly higher risk" of having another miscarriage in the month after one. She handed me a pamphlet about miscarriage and sent us home with information about when I'd be ovulating for future reference.
The pamphlet said that you would likely be more fertile in the month after your miscarriage. It also said that while some people should wait to try again, some people may find that trying again helps them to overcome their pain sooner. Hub and I discussed all this at length and decided that we fell into the latter group. We kept hearing that this unfortunate situation was unlikely to repeat itself, so if that was the case, we might as well chalk this up to statistics and try for our "real" baby. We realized that in actuality, we may have to go through this again, but decided right there that we would not live our lives in fear. We would get pregnant and be happy about it, no matter how long it lasted. Easier said than done, of course.
We took comfort in our beautiful daughter and eventually gained some perspective. If we are never able to have more children, we would happy with the one we have, we said. Still, I'm a person that journals almost daily, but after July 15, my journal remains painfully empty for 5 weeks, until...
"These are all the same, right? Because I have a positive one at home and I just want to double-check." I'm so freakin' excited that the first person I'm telling is the pharmacist, who could totally care less.
"Yeah, I think so, " she says (obviously an assistant). She turns to someone else in the back, "You used a generic one, right? And, you got good news with it." Sold.
We rush home and take the second test...also faintly positive. Hub is jumping up and down, I'm a little more reserved. He reasons that we must have JUST gotten pregnant. We only started trying a couple weeks ago, so the hormones are probably building up still. I'm thinking back to our first pregnancy and I think I remember the doctor saying that these tests detect the presence of the hormone, not the level. He is used to ignoring my killjoy rambling, so he goes to extract a date from the magical internet that can tell you wonderful things like when your baby will be due and...when you got pregnant...which is six weeks ago? Really? We weren't even trying then. Huh. We must be crazy fertile people. He makes a joke...something about how he's Chuck Norris and he can get his wife pregnant just by thinking about it.
Tuesday, July 8...I called my ObGyn as soon as they opened to make my first prenatal appointment and I was flying. Later that morning, I was sitting at my desk and I realized that my lower back was hurting. I Googled "ectopic pregnancy" because that was the first thing that came to mind. The symptoms didn't match, so I relaxed. After lunch, I was in the restroom and noticed a couple drops of blood. I thought it probably wasn't a big deal, but I snuck into an empty office and called the doctor, just in case. The nurse asked me a series of questions, but the one that stuck with me was, "Have you ever miscarried before?" Whoa, Lady. What, what?
She said she'd talk to the doctor and call me back. I hung up the phone and hurriedly Googled "miscarriage". When I saw bleeding and back pain in the same sentence, everything went fuzzy. She called back and said they wanted me to have blood drawn to see if it was a "viable" pregnancy and then perhaps an ultrasound. I didn't like that word and it set me off. I cried. Then, I called Hub and cried some more. He was pretty shocked and said he'd meet at the doctor's office. I needed to tell someone, so I drug a friend into another empty office and told her what was going on, while I cried even more. She tried to reassure me that everything would be fine.
At the doctor's office, I got my blood drawn and then we asked to speak to a nurse. I was a little annoyed that it hadn't occurred to them to sit down and talk to me. I asked her if there was anything we could do once a miscarriage started because I would rather they go ahead and do the ultrasound instead of waiting for test results. She said that nothing could be done and they might not even see anything on an ultrasound at this point; they wanted to confirm the pregnancy first. She said that spotting could happen with a normal pregnancy, but spotting this early wasn't a good sign. However, she quickly pointed out, maybe I have low progesterone and I'll just need to take a supplement, or maybe it is a UTI. There are a number of things that could be happening, but she was confident that it would be fine. So, she sent me home to spend the next 24 hours worrying. Oh, and then I'd need to go back and do another blood test so they could compare the results. So, that means worry yourself crazy for three days. Thanks.
She said to relax and "take it easy" until we got results. Yeah, right. However, we felt a little better knowing that there were innocent possibilities, so we invited my sister over for dinner. We couldn't resist telling her the "good" news and she squealed with excitement about a new baby. P's eyes lit up at the word "baby". "Where's the baby?" she asked. "In my tummy," I answered. She rushed over, lifted up my shirt, poked my bellybutton and said, "Where is it? Where is it?" We laughed, but now I know that was a silly conversation to have with her so soon. We were just so darned excited and hopeful. We did, however, decide to hold off telling the grandparents until we had absolute good news to share. We felt pretty confident that by Friday, we'd have answers and happy news.
Wednesday, July 9...I was at work when I got the call I was waiting for. Over the pounding of my heart, I heard solemn fragments from the nurse. Results from blood test #1: HCG of 19, Progesterone of 2.2. Both very low. HCG is supposed to be in the thousands for a 6 week pregnancy. They will retest tomorrow. HCG should double every two days in a normal pregnancy. The doctor does not expect them to go up. She thinks I'm having an early miscarriage. She expects me to start bleeding heavily soon. I cried and went home. I didn't want to be at work when the bleeding started.
Hub came home, too and we laid in the bed crying. I avoided going to the bathroom until it was critical and every time I held my breath waiting for the Awful Stuff to start happening. When I finally did see a couple more drops of blood, I showed it to Hub so that he knew I wasn't making it up, so that I knew I wasn't crazy, so that we were in it together. Up to this point, he was only hearing about it. Now he had evidence. But, he still thought things might be okay. I love his positive attitude.
Thursday, July 10...I went into the lab as soon as they opened to get my blood drawn again. I cried as she was doing it and she realized why I was there. She said that if I hadn't started bleeding yet, then maybe I wasn't having a miscarriage. I wanted to believe that. She said, "God is going to bless you with a son."
Before I left the building, I went into the ladies' room to compose myself. I didn't want to walk into work looking the way I felt. I wouldn't even have gone in except that I had a project due that day. And there, in the public restroom of the doctor's building, is where it started. When I saw all the blood, I started sobbing. Loud, embarrassing wailing, actually. I had brought pads, but I had still hoped that I wouldn't need them. I had tried to prepare myself for this moment, but it still hurt. Now that I knew the miscarriage was inevitable, I started to worry about HOW it would happen. Would this be painful? How long would it last? Would I need to have a D&C? I didn't know much about them, but it certainly didn't sound like fun. Would it go wrong and I wouldn't be able to have more children?
I called Hub to tell him. I could hear the disappointment and defeat in his voice. I tried to pretend that I was having a normal period, but each time the bleeding increased and it was impossible to ignore the truth. Then, the cramping started. My back was killing me, I had a monstrous headache and I spontaneously broke into sobs in my cube. I hadn't taken a shower and I was shuffling around bleary-eyed and distracted. I was sure that I could smell the blood just sitting at my desk. I knew people were looking at me.
I had to tell a manager that I needed to go home. I knew it would be unacceptable given that my project had to be completed, so I told her the truth, but didn't look her in the eyes once. I sobbed and she was sympathetic. She called a co-worker to help me finish so that I could leave. I said I was "sick" and I knew she was thinking that I was a slacker for leaving. There were some other people that needed to know I was leaving and I alternated between, "I'll fill you in later" and "I'm waiting on some test results". People in the hall would stop me and say that I didn't look good. They got a standard, "I don't feel well" but I'm pretty sure they didn't buy it. It was humiliating. And, I still ended up being there for several hours to get things in order. It frustrated me that I couldn't just walk out. I should have.
In the afternoon, I huddled in the dark office I'd been using for all of my clandestine phone calls and dialed the doctor. After being switched around and accidentally hung up on, I finally got a nurse who told me that yes, they did have my results, but I'd have to wait for this other nurse to call me back. I was so angry. I'm dying here. Yes, I know what is likely happening, but I would love to have someone call and fill me in on the details.
As I drove home, my cell phone rang. I pulled into a parking lot to take the news. It was my actual doctor, which I knew wasn't a good sign. She is so darn cheerful, which I normally love, but obviously wasn't in the mood for today.
"How are you doing?" she asked, drawing out the last word.
I drew a breath, "I've been better."
"Yeah, I suppose you are worried."
"Uh, yeah."
Results from blood test #2: HCG of 8. So, early miscarriage. She said it would be like a heavy period and that if I hadn't taken the pregnancy test, I might not have even noticed. I was a tad offended, but didn't mention the horrific cramps and backache. She said something like 30% of pregnancies end in miscarriage before 6 weeks. She asked if the test lines had been faint and I said "yes". She said if I took a test now, it would probably be negative. The good news, she said, is that they wouldn't need to do anything; it would take care of itself. And, we can try again next month, she said. Her last words were, "We'll be seeing you soon." As in, "Don't worry, you'll be pregnant again and everything will be fine."
I was relieved to finally have the answers, but emotionally wore out. I went to bed and stayed there. Hub picked up P from school and we let her lay in bed with us until my sister showed up with flowers and chocolate. She told P to "be nice to Mommy". P asked about the baby and we all looked at each other, then switched the subject. No sense trying to explain this to her, we thought. She'll eventually forget about the baby and stop bringing it up. We broke the news to our parents, but no one else would ever know about the baby that wouldn't be.
The next few days were full of tears and anger. For years, Hub had questioned spiritual influence and now he had proof, he thought. I had to admit that I harbored a lot of ill will toward God at that point, too. AND SO HELP ME IF ANYONE COMMENTS ON RELIGION...IT WILL BE DELETED. We had to warn our mothers that we did not want to hear anything even remotely resembling, "God has a plan". They had both been through this before during their child-bearing years, so I think it hurt them a lot to see us going through this.
I had trouble sleeping. From my journal: "My mind goes to bad places and I just want to stick sharp things in my eyes." Every time I thought I was doing better, something would set me off. My clothes fit better again...A pregnant lady or a baby book...and suddenly they were everywhere. No less than 10 people that I talk to on a regular basis were pregnant. One with twins. I've never known that many pregnant people before in my life--let alone all at one time. Life didn't seem fair. We were lonely and it seemed like no one cared about our pain.
Another journal entry reflected on my feelings of guilt and disappointment: "I had plans, damn it! And even as I went around blabbing about my "Spring baby" plans to anyone who'd listen, I knew there could be issues that might change those plans, but I was thinking we might not be able to get pregnant right away. I wasn't thinking "miscarriage". "
When I returned to work on Tuesday, I managed to tell a couple of people what had happened without crying, which I took as a good sign. I didn't want to have to retell the story, but I felt like I needed to justify my absence from work during a deadline and that made me feel guilty. At lunch, my friend talked about a friend that chain smokes during pregnancy and I got very angry. There are people that do everything right to protect their baby and end up losing them, but then there are people that don't seem to give a damn and do everything wrong and still get perfectly healthy babies.
On the way home, I felt like I needed to talk to someone. My husband, sister, mother and aunt didn't answer their phones. I started running down my list of friends and realized they were all pregnant. I didn't plan on telling them about the miscarriage because I didn't want them to worry them. I felt lonely and sad. I felt like something or someone was missing. But, how is that possible when I had only known about the baby for 24 hours. It wasn't moving or taking up space yet. Can you miss something that you never had? I didn't feel like I should be taking this so hard. All kinds of crazy thoughts went through my head. Is God punishing me? Why didn't we wait to take the pregnancy test?
We met with a nurse practitioner the next week. That appointment was originally scheduled to be my first prenatal visit, instead, I was going to talk about my dead baby. Even though I knew what she was going to say, I came prepared with a written list of things that I might have done wrong and I read each one and asked if that could have led to a miscarriage.
"Haven't had my teeth cleaned in 8 months? Squatting and being on my feet all day while shooting a wedding? Stress at my job?" She patiently listened to each one and shook her head. There is nothing I did wrong to cause this. We'll never know why it happened, but likely a "chromosomal abnormality", a phrase I heard a lot after the miscarriage. I'd never heard it before, but now I can say it three times fast.
I saved the most important questions for last. "What are the odds of it happening again?" She assured me that while miscarriages are very common, the odds of it happening again are very slim. "One in five pregnancies end in miscarriage, " she said. "This is your one." I kept repeating this phrase over and over. "This is my one. This is my one." It became my mantra when I was scared about the future. Later, it would haunt me.
The last question still weighs heavily on me. "When can we try again?" I had posed this same question to my doctor on the phone call that Ended It All. "Next month!" she had said without hesitation. The nurse practitioner was more cautious. "I would wait one or two cycles," she said. I remember exactly what she said because I wrote it down, but even then I knew I didn't want to wait. She told us that she had read a study that showed there was a "slightly higher risk" of having another miscarriage in the month after one. She handed me a pamphlet about miscarriage and sent us home with information about when I'd be ovulating for future reference.
The pamphlet said that you would likely be more fertile in the month after your miscarriage. It also said that while some people should wait to try again, some people may find that trying again helps them to overcome their pain sooner. Hub and I discussed all this at length and decided that we fell into the latter group. We kept hearing that this unfortunate situation was unlikely to repeat itself, so if that was the case, we might as well chalk this up to statistics and try for our "real" baby. We realized that in actuality, we may have to go through this again, but decided right there that we would not live our lives in fear. We would get pregnant and be happy about it, no matter how long it lasted. Easier said than done, of course.
We took comfort in our beautiful daughter and eventually gained some perspective. If we are never able to have more children, we would happy with the one we have, we said. Still, I'm a person that journals almost daily, but after July 15, my journal remains painfully empty for 5 weeks, until...
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Prologue
When our beautiful daughter (we'll call her Princess or P) turned two, we decided that we were finally ready to start talking seriously about having another child. We had always planned on two children, but hadn't been ready to take the second plunge until now. We started talking about when we might be in a better position to afford daycare for Child #2 and after many discussions, decided that there would never be a good time. This was pretty much the same discussion we had leading up to Princess. Now that we could agree that we wanted to have another baby, I started thinking about what time of year would be best. Since Princess wasn't planned in such detail, I thought it might be nice to do a little more prep work. I decided that Spring would be a good time to have a baby. Fewer germs, you can't help but feel good in Spring, by Summer it would be able to go outside some and it would likely have some germ resistance built up by flu season and hopefully, we wouldn't be sleep deprived during winter blues season. It all sounded perfect to me. My husband (hereafter referred to as Hub) scoffed at my attempt to control the universe. I realized that yes, we may have difficulty conceiving on command, but I thought we might as well try to do it our way.
In order to get said Spring baby, we'd need to start trying in late summer. Too late for that this year and we kicked ourselves a little that we hadn't thought of it sooner. We figured this plan gave us six months to "live it up" so to speak. I'd drink as much Starbucks as I wanted and we'd splurge on a family vacation and then we'd come back and make a baby. Our late May vacation was fabulous and well-deserved. Our plan was to start trying for our new baby in late June. A few days after we got home, we kicked off a very busy season with our side business of photography. During the July 4th weekend, I was thinking that I really should have seen my period by now. They had been far from reliable lately, but I wondered....
We found ourselves in this situation a lot the past year. I'm a little late and we talk about it and get excited and Hub wants me to take a test NOW. I say that I don't want to waste a test (I actually don't want to be disappointed with a negative result), so let's just wait a few days. We go back and forth like this for a weekend and then I give in on Monday. (For some reason, all of our tests have been taken on Mondays.) It always amused me that even when we weren't actively "trying", we got excited at the prospect of possibly being pregnant.
In order to get said Spring baby, we'd need to start trying in late summer. Too late for that this year and we kicked ourselves a little that we hadn't thought of it sooner. We figured this plan gave us six months to "live it up" so to speak. I'd drink as much Starbucks as I wanted and we'd splurge on a family vacation and then we'd come back and make a baby. Our late May vacation was fabulous and well-deserved. Our plan was to start trying for our new baby in late June. A few days after we got home, we kicked off a very busy season with our side business of photography. During the July 4th weekend, I was thinking that I really should have seen my period by now. They had been far from reliable lately, but I wondered....
We found ourselves in this situation a lot the past year. I'm a little late and we talk about it and get excited and Hub wants me to take a test NOW. I say that I don't want to waste a test (I actually don't want to be disappointed with a negative result), so let's just wait a few days. We go back and forth like this for a weekend and then I give in on Monday. (For some reason, all of our tests have been taken on Mondays.) It always amused me that even when we weren't actively "trying", we got excited at the prospect of possibly being pregnant.
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