I want off this rollercoaster.
This morning, I went in for my second beta. The nurse called back and dared to be chipper. She dared because my beta looked good: 56. More than doubled. Progesterone looked great, no spotting, no cramping. I even let her congratulations go by without offending me. Life was good.
For about thirty seconds. I called my husband, left him a happy, sing-song, "Call me!" message.
I went into the bathroom and. . . pink spotting.
Ah, you say. Pink spotting. Could be implantation. Could be normal. Could be nothing.
I, the eternal optimist, despite the way my stomach clenched at the sight of this harbinger of evil, decided to take the advice of the "normal" pregnancy books and went to bed. I lay down on my left side and tried to convince myself that the cramping and light back ache were from the progesterone.
An hour later, I went to use the bathroom. Bright. Red. Blood. With clots. My cramps have increased, my lower back is killing me.
I have a follow up appointment with my RE tomorrow afternoon and bloodwork in the morning.
I am so angry, sad, tired, drained. I have the most awful feeling that I am never going to be a mom.