For a Friday, usually my most favorite day of the week, this one was officially the longest day of my life. Ever. Even now, it seems like it should be halfway through Saturday already.
I’m pretty sure I went to work today. I remember something about working. I also remember taking a brief lunch break and the weather being so hot that I broke a sweat and was thrilled to get back inside to the freezing cold air conditioning.
I painted my fingernails green for today (as they were most of March) and wore the same socks today that I wore on the day of the embryo transfer… lady bugs. Ridiculous superstitions, I know, and I felt silly wearing socks on a day forecast to be in the high 80°s F. I also have a hate relationship with one of the two elevator carriages at work, and when the slow, creaky one arrived to pick me up, as it nearly always does, I sent it to the top floor of the building and pressed the button again to get the fast, speedy elevator. Again with the superstition. Is it funny to admit that I almost taped the picture of my embryos on my belly this morning before I left for work? I was going to do everything in my power to make this a good day.
My doctor’s office was super busy this morning and I was called back about 10 minutes late… for just a blood draw. The “late” thing is a very rare occurrence at this doctor’s office, just one of the many reasons I love them so much there.
Before she drew my blood, the nurse reviewed my chart, verified dates, confirmed information and asked if I had tested at home. I told her, truthfully, tearfully, that I had not. The blood draw was quick, painless, and she hugged me when she was done and I felt like a little kid with a huge owie. An owie that no one seems to be able to fix, because it’s inside my heart. She smiled and told me optimistically, “We’ll call you with the good news.” I think I grunted in reply. I held it together as I dropped my chart at the front desk, said goodbye to everyone who was saying “Good luck!” and then I got in my car, and I sat there, with my head leaning on the steering wheel and sobbed. Defeated. I knew the test would come back negative, the bleeding I’ve been having is too much for it to be anything else. This test is just a formality.
My doctor has a very regimented schedule and I know, generally, when he calls with lab results. He does all his active cycling lab results between 11-12 and, last time, when our previous IVF cycle failed, he called around noon with the sad news. Today, noon came and went, but I knew he’d had a ton of appointments that morning, so he was just probably running late on his calls.
I was nervous, my palms were sweating, I was anxiously cleaning my desk and filing emails away in my email box. Trying to fill my time with busy work that requires no brainwaves, because my brainwaves were focused on that damn phone that wasn’t vibrating. When my phone did finally vibrate at 12:23 PM, I jumped and nearly hyperventilated. My boss had left for a lunch appointment, so I stepped into his office and closed the door before answering. There was a pause, and my doctor said in a tone that sounded half amused and half insulted, “JD. Were you not going to take my call?” I laughed and said, “Well, I thought about it for a second or two.” He laughed and said, “You are an honest one, aren’t you?” My brain had just started to process the fact that he was casual and not conciliatory, when he said, “JD…” and then, seemingly, every person in his office yelled over the speakerphone, “YOU’RE PREGNANT!”
Between the crying and shaking that took over my body, I couldn’t seem to write or function. I did manage to squeak out, “You’re sure? This isn’t an April Fool’s joke, right?” He said, “Awww, honey, no. We would never, ever do that. This is real. You are pregnant.” I didn’t cry on December 7, 2010, when he told me that cycle had failed, but I completely lost it at that point. Sobbing, I told him he was going to have to hang on a minute while I caught my breath, I sobbed and shook, and he helplessly tried to hug me through the phone with his words.
Finally, through gasps and tears, I said, “OK, you know I’m a numbers girl. Give me my numbers…” I could barely write, and then he started giving me instructions and I finally told him that he needed to call my husband with that information, because I couldn’t stop shaking. I’m looking at the post-it note that I attempted to write the information on, and it looks like an 85 year old arthritic woman took over my hand and brain. It’s not even complete information. Unbelievable.
What that note is supposed to say is, my HCG level is 117. That is a really good number for 11 days past a 3 day transfer (or 11DP3DT). My progesterone levels are a bit low (at 18). No surprise to me — my progesterone levels are ALWAYS low. Which would also partially (hopefully) explain all the scary “normal” spotting I continue to have, so we’re upping the dosage. Now my husband gets to give me two progesterone shots a day — 1cc in the morning before he leaves for work, and 1cc in the evening. The rest of the meds stay the same.
I go back tomorrow to stock up on our needle inventory, and then on Monday morning for a 2nd blood draw. They want to see the HCG numbers doubling every 48 hours, and they will want that progesterone level well over 25. Continued prayers are desperately needed. I spotted really bad before I left work tonight, so I’m putting myself on pelvic rest this weekend and desperately praying that the increased progesterone dosage will make the bleeding stop.
My husband and I prayed together last night for a Miracle, a healthy Miracle, one that we get to raise. We’ve got a long road to travel yet, and many hurdles to clear, before we’re out of the woods with this, starting one day at a time with shots, blood draws and prayers. Many prayers. Also, I think I need more lady bug socks.
But, for now, I am sending prayers of thanksgiving to the Giver of Life, because — HOLY CRAP, YOU GUYS — I’M PREGNANT!
Previous password protected posts on this topic:
http://wp.me/PnMHI-1cI-Night before Blood test #1
http://wp.me/PnMHI-1cg-Waiting and whining
http://wp.me/PnMHI-1bE-Night Before Transfer
http://wp.me/PnMHI-1bl-Night before egg retrieval