So yesterday I went back for a “routine, just to check, we don’t expect anything to be wrong, we just like sticking you” third beta. The nurse jokes with me about finally being able to remove the infertility code from my chart. All is happy and well. My family sends me joking e-mails about baby names. Things were great.
That’s when the doctor’s office called. The same nurse who joked about taking the infertility code off of my chart called to tell me my test results. Great, I love hearing the numbers, because they’re always (all twice that I’ve heard them) so great. My hcg is 1106 and progesterone is 46.1. OK, the progesterone has taken a nosedive from 80, but anything over 20 is good, I think. Then the nurse says what I really, really didn’t want to hear her say. “You’re numbers aren’t doubling the way they should.”
Apparently, the numbers need to double every other day, and mine are doubling just under every three days. So, I ask what should the numbers be today. Between 1200 and 2400 based on the last two betas. So I’m 100 lower than the lower end of “OK.” FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!
Of course, I didn’t really expect my pregnancy to be smooth sailing. I didn’t really believe Dr. Wonderful was going to solve the problems that caused my body to kill four other innocent babies. But, I hoped. I really, really hoped.
So, what does this mean? It could be nothing. I could have been dehydrated (apparently has the opposite effect on blood tests as on urine tests). Or… it could be ectopic. FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!
Dr. Wonderful has decided that he does want me to have an ultrasound early (tomorrow, @ 6wks), to see if they can find a sac. I assume there will also be more drawing of blood, because why not? My vein will be within easy poking distance, and they do love to poke. Unfortunately Dr. Wonderful is MIA tomorrow, so I have to see Dr. Groll (not a fake name, I figure as he’s in the book business he probably doesn’t mind having his name plastered about the internet, and I like his name). I’m OK with seeing Dr. Groll, I trust him and I’ve seen him before, but I was really hoping to see MY doctor. At least I got to talk to my doctor.
So, now we’re back in wait and see mode. I think God must hate me. Or at least really like to fuck with me. I know we’re not talking Job level testing, but Minta’s not Job. I’m not strong enough for this shit.