I did a pretty good job of avoiding pregnancy tests prior to our first beta. In fact I was fairly calm this entire cycle and unlike what I expected, my anxiety remained very low. I’m not sure why but I suppose subconsciously I knew there wasn’t much else I could do. Either it worked or it didn’t.
Funnily enough the Sunday prior to the week we were to go in for our first beta my PC started to act up. It stopped booting and R was out so I couldn’t have him look at it. As a result, I got bored and decided to pee on a stick. At this point I was 5dp5dt but a very, very, very faint line appeared. In fact, I didn’t believe what I was seeing. I messaged Angela on FB and asked her if I was seeing things. She responded by saying she did see the line and for a few seconds I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t want to hope, it was still too soon but after that day, I started peeing on sticks two times a day and each time it came up positive, deep down, despite the fact I tried very hard to keep realistic expectations, I had hope.
The day our first beta test arrived, I was still pretty calm. All of my pregnancy tests were still coming up as positive but this was the day when I’d get a realistic idea of whether the pregnancy would be viable and the waiting was torture. I went into work that day which was a stupid move on my part1 and I get the call around 1:00pm from my doctor who confirmed I was in fact pregnant, but my beta HCG was at a 32 when ideally they’d have loved to see it at 40-50. Despite his reassurance that the first number generally didn’t mean anything and what they were ultimately looking for was the number to double every other day, I still ended up trying to fight back tears. The pessimist in me immediately jumped to worse case scenario and I realized going into work on beta day was a bad idea.
There were many individuals in my support groups who tried to further reassure me by sharing their success stories with lower betas or betas around the same level as mine but I couldn’t allow myself to hope anymore; the one constant I can always be sure of is Murphy’s Law so I started to build my defensives for the news I was sure we would get. Meanwhile R held on to the hope that everything would be okay.
Our second beta was on a Monday which meant the weekend was pure torture. I kept peeing on sticks and my heart fell even more as the test line started to fade and the digital pregnancy test that predicted the number of weeks since ovulation remained at the same 1-2 weeks. I did a bit more research to give myself hope2 and discovered the color of the line in terms of lightness or darkness meant nothing. The tests were merely designed to detect a specific level of HCG in your urine, which changed throughout the day depending on fluid intake. This is why the test instructions suggested using first urine of the day as it tended to have the highest concentration of HCG. I breathe a little be easier but I still was prepared to hear bad news.
Monday rolled around and once again my doctor called me in the afternoon to give us an update. During the weekend my HCG had only risen to 41 which lead him to believe it was going to be a chemical pregnancy. Still he didn’t want to give up hope, it’s possible the embryo implanted late so he scheduled a 3rd beta for Wednesday. I was okay when I heard the number because I was prepared. I was able to accept and understand that this just wasn’t our round. What I couldn’t take was the look on R’s face when I told him. It was complete and utter devastation and I had to stop myself from falling apart because I had to be strong for him, for us. I’d say that was probably the hardest moment for me to deal with and I wished I could have given him the news he wanted.
That same night, I ended up rushing R to the ER due to severe chest pains. We arrived around 10:30pm and I was absolutely terrified. He was in pain and I couldn’t do anything about it. I just had to sit, hold his hand, and watch as he visibly shook with sweat pouring down his face. I ended up leaving him in the ER at 3:30 to try and get some sleep. I told him to call me or text me when he was either admitted or the doctor came back with his scans. When I got home around 3:55, I ended up crashing due to utter exhaustion and woke up about 1.5-2 hours later to a text he sent at 4:183 letting me know they were admitting him. I immediately got dressed and headed to the hospital and spent the day with him as they tried to find a way to effectively manage his pain.
I ended up having to cancel the 3rd beta because he was still in the hospital but I already have a feeling it wouldn’t be good news. I stopped having mild cramping which had been a constant since 2-3 days after the transfer but it wasn’t something I could really focus on.
My mother-in-law flew in Tuesday night to allow me to get some rest and to try to take some of the burden off my shoulders. The hospital ended up discharging R on Wednesday when his pain was at a manageable level and instructed us to follow up in 2-3 weeks. He was feeling much better but still had some pain so I ordered bed rest and light work while he recovered. Friday, we went in for the last beta and I got the voicemail stating the numbers had dropped to 36.9 and the pregnancy was officially ruled as a chemical pregnancy.
It was not a surprise to me but it still sucked. I recognized that there was something wrong with the embryo and as a result nature did what it had to do, terminate the pregnancy because the embryo was not viable. I won’t lie and say it didn’t hurt. To an extent, it did. I cried silently, though not very long, while R held me but ultimately, I took the news well and focused on taking care of R.
A lot of people in some of the groups I’m in on FB commended me for my outlook and stated I was extremely positive. I’d have to disagree. I was in no means positive, I was simply realistic.
As the saying goes “Que sera, sera.”