A year ago today, I found out that I was pregnant with Gummy Bear. I didn't think that I would get pregnant that month, because we steered clear of my usual fertile window, not realizing that having an HSG can cause you to ovulate early. In fact, just one week before, we had sat in our RE's office and reviewed all of the tests that we had completed. All of the test results were normal, so our doctor's next advice was to create the "Perfect Cycle" by increasing my egg quality and ovulation, plus progesterone to support the pregnancy.
We left the office, armed with several prescriptions and a sheet of instructions, thinking that in a couple of weeks, we would be back for ovulation monitoring.
Except by the next week, I was experiencing my usual early pregnancy symptoms. Sure enough, a pee stick came up with a second line. I was a little embarrassed and not quite sure what to do. I wasn't sure what my husband was going to think about this latest development, so I didn't tell him. I didn't tell anyone.
Looking back, this was definitely a strange reaction. But this was my fifth pregnancy, with no babies to show for it. Science had failed to produce a reason for our losses, so I went a little superstitious this time around. I decided that if I could make it to the 6th week without any spotting, then I would call my RE's office and schedule an ultrasound.
I managed to keep it from my husband for a full week. When I did finally get around to telling him, he was not very happy with me for keeping the secret. When I explained my reasoning that if we did things differently this time things might end different, he agreed that since nothing else had worked so far, it was worth a try.
So, we didn't even talk about the pregnancy and another week went by. I realized that I was nearing the six week mark, with no spotting to speak of. This had never happened to me before. With trembling fingers, I dialed the RE's office. They had me come in for a beta and when the nurse called me with the results, I almost fell over: 5562.
I had never had a beta go about 100, so this was incredible news. The nurse was very positive and said that I was possibly in the twin range at the DPO we were at. Because the beta was so high, we didn't need a second check for doubling and we were scheduled for our first ultrasound in three days - on Halloween.
The Day of the Great Beta was a Friday, and we were headed to my parents' house a few hours away. We decided that it was best to keep the news under wraps, so we were pretty secretive that weekend. It was wonderful to have a secret, just the two of us, and I had never felt so pregnant. I was starving, moodier than usual, and my breasts felt on fire. My husband and I walked around with goofy grins pasted on our faces and springs in our steps. On our way home, I napped in the car, and was awakened by some pretty strong cramping. I was worried, but when I checked to see if I was spotting, there wasn't any, and I felt relieved.
Until the night before my ultrasound, when I had some dreaded spotting. I was devastated, thinking that this was the end of yet another pregnancy. My husband tried in vain to comfort me, but I was still in tears. Each day that I was pregnant, I got more attached to the very idea of the baby. Usually, by this point, I had spotting or lower betas, certainly never had I felt this ill. I put my hand over my stomach and prayed that the baby was all right.
Halloween was a beautiful fall day, sunny and clear, not too cold. I spent the day with my stomach churning in fear, checking for spotting as if it was my job. I didn't have any more bleeding, but I was still convinced that I was about to miscarry and that there wouldn't be anything on the ultrasound.
Finally, we got to the appointment. I started crying the minute we were in the ultrasound room, waiting for the technician. My husband asked what was wrong and I wailed, "This was supposed to be a happy day."
He replied, "It still might be."
The technician came in and I explained where I was as far as LMP and when I thought I might have ovulated. I also told her that I was spotting and started to cry again. She said, "Well, let's just see what we can see."
What we saw wasn't much. But it was something. There as a tiny little sac and an even tinier fetal pole. There wasn't a discernible heartbeat, but we were still too early for that to be a concern. The tech even thought she saw a reason for the spotting - something called a subchorionic hemorrhage, which she said would most likely resolve on its own.
I was completely gobsmacked by that little dot. This was our fifth pregnancy, but we had never gotten this far. I always thought that I would cry when I first saw our baby on an ultrasound, but I found that tears didn't do justice to this moment. There are two screens at our RE's - the one the tech uses and then a smaller one that is right next to the mother. I reached out and touched the small dot in wonder, feeling as if my life had been changed forever.
And it had. I will never be the same.