It is suddenly a day when everything is significant. Suddenly, it matters how I spread the jam for the PB&Js. It matters whether we watch Wild Kratts or Peep in the Big Wide World. Suddenly, I notice the socks I’ve chosen today–every detail matters. The day is suddenly etched on my memory. Today is the day that I begin to pass Pocoyo. She will leave me today, or in the next few days, even though I spent last night talking to her soothingly, telling her that we would love it if she could stay.
I am so grateful to her for leaving me naturally, gently, without frightening surgery or harsh medications. She is going home as sweetly as she came. We will miss you, Pocoyo.
We waited, it seemed, so long for this ultrasound. But when the day came, I was afraid to go, even though I was still desperately hopeful that the news would be good. All I wanted was to see a tiny heart a-flickering.
As we walked into the ultrasound waiting room, we passed a young lady with an older couple who were holding ultrasound photos, and talking excitedly. Would that be us in half an hour?
We went into the room and told the new ultrasound tech that we were nervous because of the HCG stall. I hadn’t held my bladder long enough, so she couldn’t do an abdominal. That was ok with me–transvaginal ultrasounds are clearer this early in pregnancy. Once it started, we saw the sac (in the uterus, Thank God! Not an ectopic! That was the “worst” I was trying to prepare for…) and I got excited. I started to see a little baby lump. This is good, right?
Then she turned the screen away from us. She acted like she just needed to look intently at the image herself to make some measurements, but I knew. It was not good news. She asked if we were sure about our dates. “Pretty sure,” I said. She asked if we had an appointment. We were to stop in and talk to the doc right after the ultrasound. “Good.”
She said that the noise we would hear was the blood flowing through the ovaries. Not the noise I wanted to hear. “The doc has the report now,” she said. “You can go and he’ll explain everything to you.”
My husband, as we walked down the hall, said, “It still could be good news.” “I think it was an empty sac,” I said.
It wasn’t. The doc checked my dates. I got my first positive pregnancy test on January 13th. It was now February 7th. I should be over 7 weeks. But the baby measured only 6 weeks, 1 day. She had stopped growing over a week ago. And her heart was not beating. “Even if the dates are off,” the doc said, “we should see a little flicker. I don’t think that this is going to work out. We’ll wait until the end of the month. If nothing happens, we’ll do another ultrasound, and we may have to do some interventions.”
So we went home. And my wonderful husband had to explain to our kids that the baby had died.
And now we wait.
Please note: this ultrasound image is borrowed from another blog, a wonderful blog; click it to go there. We were given no photo at the end of our ultrasound, and I wish now that I had asked for one, anyway. I have no picture of Pocoyo.
I’d had no real nausea, and even more than that, I just knew that something was not right. This sounds silly, but, when I talked to Pocoyo, I’d stopped feeling that she heard me. And I had one day of terrible cramps with vomiting. I told myself that it was just nerves–because of my losses last May and last August. But the feeling wouldn’t go away. So I called the doctor, said that I was unreasonably concerned, and asked for quantity beta HCG tests.
I took two tests, one on January 30th, and the second 48-hours later on February 1st. I got the results today, February 4th.
They’d like the first (according to my dates, I was about 7 weeks) to be around 7000. It wasn’t, it was 4116, but that didn’t matter much. What really mattered was that it double in 48 hours. It didn’t. It only went up to 4404. The doctor said, “It could still be okay, but prepare for the worst.”
How do you prepare for the worst? My ultrasound will be Friday, February 7th. Will they find Pocoyo there? With her little heart beating?
Well… When you become pregnant, you have to tell your health insurance. So I was on hold on the phone for an impossibly long time, and there was no kid-free place to hide once the customer service agent picked up. That means that my six-year-old, whom I thought was not listening, ended up overhearing me say that I’m pregnant.
We usually don’t tell the kids until after an ultrasound confirms that everything is okay, but the cat was out of the bag. I told him that it was mostly still a secret, and I told him why. But he said, “I do NOT keep secrets from my brother!” (meaning his older brother, my eight-year-old.) So, the brother was told. They were both pleased and excited–much to my surprise. And they wanted to name the baby.
After hearing a few suggestions like “Clutch Powers” and “Boulder” I said that naming a baby was a job for Mommies and Daddies. “Then what is the job for brothers?” they asked. “Ummmm… Making sure that the baby has a good nickname.” I suggested. Right away, they chose one. Our baby has the perfect nickname…
Praise The Lord, Who has seen my lowly condition;
He has lifted me up!
He alone counted the tears I wept, kneeling on the cold floor.
My desire to control rejected His loving design, yet
He sat beside me, comforted me with the promise of His Word.
Today I see the glory He has planned for me.
Joy inexpressible covers me;
My tears of despair lost in a flood of gratitude.
Wonderful is The Lord! He blesses the unworthy,
His grace extends to His wayward children:
He has poured out His goodness, even for me!
Praise The Lord!
Even if it means another BFN this week.
Even if it means another cycle of pain and disappointment.
His plan is still the best.
Today, I go back to the Doc for my where-do-we-go-from-here visit. I thought I wouldn’t need it. I thought I’d need an OB visit instead. I’m thankful that Clomid helped me to ovulate. I’m sad that I still didn’t get pregnant.
So, once again, I’ll be talking about options and costs and tests and procedures. And giving up.
but I think that you’re not yet ready to give up, when the thought of not TTC is more painful than the thought of one more BFN.
but I’m also not ready to go into more debt, to do more extreme effort, to let my life be ruled by the tests and the meds and the timing and the… obsession?
Where do we go from here? I don’t know.
but my life is in the hands of a God Who does know. And He has great plans for me…