I walked into my RE’s office yesterday with my head held high. I was determined for them to see how my low beta number had not destroyed me. They had just gotten back from lunch so when I walked in my doctor was standing at the front desk talking with the receptionist. When he saw me he gave me a big smile and shook my hand. He asked me how I was doing and I was honest. I told him I was good, all things considering. Then he looked straight at me and said “I’m excited”. I must have looked at him like he had 4 heads. I asked him why he was excited and he told me he was excited about my positive. I said to him “It is such a low number…”. He told me it didn’t matter that it was supposed to be low, because we caught it so early. He told me as long as it was doubling, the number didn’t matter and again…that he was excited.
My doctor is a straight shooter. I’ve always liked that about him. He tells you like it is, even if the news is bad. I expected him to brace me for the inevitable loss of this pregnancy. Instead he was there encouraging me and telling me that things are looking good. I felt as if I had jumped through the rabbit hole. How is a 18 looking good? But never the less it did make me feel better to know that someone was positive about the possibility of this pregnancy. Did it give me hope? Not really. But I figure someone better have some.
My number did not quadruple, it did not triple, but it did more than double. 2nd beta came back at 42. A doubling time of 39 hours. My doctor is pleased and is not having me back for another draw until next Wednesday after that we will schedule an ultrasound…something I really can’t even think about because I think I have PTSD from the last one. But I digress.
I am that “P” word that I don’t like to think about. I don’t feel any different. With my other 2 pregnancies from the moment I saw a second line I felt almost a transformation. Even though it was too early for symptoms it was as if my body and mind were already invested and aware of the tiny life growing in me. This time I feel same as I did last week. I feel no magic or wonder. I feel nonchalant. I haven’t even gone pee-stick crazy like I did with my other ones. I’m going to feel guilty as hell if this ends up being my take home baby because I doubted it like crazy. Talk about a downer. I can imagine telling my imaginary child “Yeah, I never believed you’d survive”.
Things are different now. There will be no bump-dates. No belly pics. No ultrasound photos. In the past I tried to pretend that I could be “normal” and enjoy a pregnancy. That is so far gone it is not even funny. I’m already trying to plan ways that I can avoid telling people about this until I’m 30 weeks if I am lucky enough to get there. With my nosy family it doesn’t seem very likely. My point is…don’t expect pregnancy rainbows and sunshine. Expect your normal bitching and moaning. For right now I am content to pretend that nothing has changed.