This week has given me heartburn. There have been so many ups and downs and I never thought I would be experiencing this. By the way, dp3dt is short for days past 3-day transfer.
After some urging from my lovelies in my FB group, I went out and bought two boxes of FRERs (First Response Early Result tests) and a two-pack of Clear Blue digital. I felt like I was sneaking porn or something. A digital pregnancy test?? You rascally beast, you! I kept the thought in the back of my mind that it may still be too early for a digital. I brought them up to the counter at Target and kept having to reassure the cashier that yes, these were all for me.
I got home, peed on a FRER at 11:45, and walked out of the bathroom. I've never seen a second line on these. Ever. Not even close. I walked in and saw this:
I freaked. I teared up. A sob escaped my throat. I walked around the house for ten minutes, crying and holding my pee stick. I put it up on my FB group and smiled and giggled to myself watching the comments roll in.
I had this overwhelming urge to drive off to Carter's and buy baby clothes. I told myself, if the digital was positive, I could go. So I tried it, talking to myself while I was waiting that it's still early. It doesn't mean anything if it's negative.
And then, this happened.
And then everything was right with the world.
The feeling was indescribable. I will never forget that moment. Ever.
So after falling on my face in a series of, "Thank you, God!" I drove to Carter's to find some baby clothes to surprise Chris and my family with.
Want to know a secret? I didn't belong there. Walking amongst all those baby clothes, the pregnant women.. I didn't belong. I timidly walked around the racks of clothes, picking up teeny baby onesies, feeling like any minute, someone was going to call me out. "Get out of our store, infertile! You're just kidding yourself!"
I finally found a little onesie for Daddy, an Auntie one and a Grandma one, that actually was part of a frog outfit. Dies of cuteness.
Do you realize how many non-gender neutral clothes there are? I couldn't even get a Grandpa one, because they were either very girl, or very boy. I brought my clothes up to the counter and started talking to the girl at the counter, telling her about our four years and IVF. She got tears, I got tears. "Well you will have to come back when you know if it's a boy or a girl!" she tells me. I smile, walk out and immediately feel disheartened. Maybe I was getting ahead of myself. How could I buy baby clothes when I haven't even done my beta?
I cheered up when I got home, put the onesie for Chris in a Target bag, and when he got home from work, I followed him to the bedroom while he changed. "Oh here," I handed him the bag, "I got you something." He opened it and saw the little onesie. "Aww," he says, smiling. I grabbed the pregnancy test and showed him, "Well I think it's pretty obvious you're going to be a daddy."
The look on his face was priceless.
We then went to my parents' house after getting together little gift bags, one with the Auntie onesie, one with the Grandma onesie, and a bag of Cheez-Its. If you remember from this post, my dad has always called me Cheezy. He would joke around about calling our future baby Cheez-ette. So I thought I was pure genius for coming up with that.
We drove over there after texting my sister that we were in the area and could stop by to bring something over. We got there and my mom, dad and sister were all in the dining room. After some small talk, I passed out the gift bags. "Just a silly little present to say thank you for your support, no matter what comes of this cycle." My dad opened his first and was confused, which is exactly what I was going for. My sister and mom then opened theirs.
"Awww!" they both said. I smiled and pulled out the digital test. "Mom," I held out the test, "Is this clear enough for you?" I watched her eyes widen.
"What?!" she says, shocked, "Wait, what??" I smiled, we both teared up, shrieked and it was hugs all around. I don't know when I have ever been that happy.
Later that night, the slightly pinkish spotting I was having was starting to get pinker. I tried to brush it off, thinking it may have been implantation bleeding, although I thought Blasty was supposed to already be attached. I asked my FB group and everyone was saying it was normal. The spotting turned bright red, and I was trying to focus on the fact that my group was telling me this can be normal. It slowed and eventually went away, but that high I was on... started deflating. Was I celebrating too early?
I started spotting again that morning. But I took a pregnancy test and I was still seeing a line. I ended up calling the clinic and the nurse said it was too early to tell if the bleeding was good or bad, and that I would come in for my beta Thursday and to try not to worry about it.
Later in the afternoon, as I watched in dismay the pool of bright red blood on my pad and in the toilet, I swallowed back this feeling of doom. I called the clinic again and the nurse told me to come in Wednesday and Friday instead for betas. Which I was relieved for, but also wondering if this was a bad thing, to come in before your scheduled time. I got home from work, and immediately took another digital test. How could I be losing my baby when I was still getting my BFPs?
So I layed down on the cough the rest of the night. When the cramps started, and the bright red blood started getting heavier, with clots, I was in tears. How could God bring us this far, and then take my baby away? I kept getting reassurance from my group, even stories of heavy bleeding with cramps and how everything was ok. But the internet was telling me that it could be nothing, or it could be a miscarriage. I hadn't even told my littlest sister who lives in Louisiana, because how could I happily Skype with her and show her the Auntie onesie, when I was thinking this was all ending?
And I get it. I've never been pregnant before. Maybe it was nothing. But it was by far, the worst 24 hours of my life. Funny how it was always "Little Blasty," until I was threatened with losing him. He became "baby," as in "Please God don't take my baby away."
I woke up, still bleeding. Like a period. But not. Even now, I can't describe it and I should have thought that that was a good thing. Still bleeding. But still pregnant.
I went to my beta at 9:30 and when it was done, I rode the elevator down to my car, telling myself and God that I was done worrying. It wasn't in my hands anyway.
I tried to stay busy at work, but as the afternoon grew closer, I got more and more anxious. Finally I got the call... while I was on the phone with a patient. Afterward, I listened to the message, and my heart jumped in my throat when I realized it was Dr. K. Why was he calling? The nurses always call! Something is wrong!
"I'm calling with good news," I hear, "The beta came back positive today. It was 63 so that is an absolute positive." He said the spotting is probably from the progesterone, and not to worry about it. They will do another beta Friday and if that number looks good, I will get to schedule my first OB appointment in 2-3 weeks. "Congratulations," he ended.
I cried. In my office. A lot. There have not been too many times when I have literally felt the weight lift off my chest. I called Chris in tears. "We're still having a baby," I choked out.
We made the rest of the calls that night. I'm pregnant. I am really pregnant. Chris and I sat there Monday evening, with tears streaming as I held the digital pregnancy test, with the most beautiful word I have ever seen, telling him that I never thought I was ever going to see that word.
I sit here now, teary-eyed as I relay the week's events. I am really, truly, pregnant. I have the voicemail and pee sticks to prove it. Lots of pee sticks. I think I am going to save them. Like a creepy little scrapbook.
And now I leave you, with an ironic pregnant women picture. We have started getting some early baby cucumbers, so I found a Taste of Home refrigerator pickle recipe:
Labels: Beta, BFP, Doctor Appointment, embryo, Infertility education, Inspirational, IVF, lady business, POAS, surviving days post-transfer