Again with the feelings, I felt pregnant. More than that, my temperature tests told me I was pregnant. All signs were leading to go.
The morning of my monthly ultrasound was a lesson in patience. I woke up bright and early – it was the first day of my missed period and I was ready to test. Mister anxiously waited as I peed on that lovely electronic stick. I was ready to finally see “pregnant” after months of those damned things laughing at me and basically saying “try again” or “better luck next time!”
“Not pregnant.” How could that be?! I felt like I thought I should. The cramps on the 26th day were fairly minor this time. My temperatures were hitting the correct numbers. Everything seemed like it was on track. I immediately called a friend and she assured me that those pesky electronic tests aren’t as sensitive as the old-fashioned kind and to wait for my doctor visit.
As I stood on the scales at the doctor’s office, the nurse asked if I felt pregnant. I recapped the monthly, temps and test debacle that morning. She looked at my charts and confirmed that by the numbers, I looked pregnant. Cautious joy ensued.
As the ultrasound magnified my baby parts, I felt a twinge of hopeless happiness envelope my body. There it was, the sign I had been looking for all along – the baby. It was there. The doctor would not fully confirm it.
The doctor called for a blood test and reserved his gladness for those results. It felt like he was walking away from me with this underlying sadness that I couldn’t pinpoint. Had he had a bad morning? Was he tired? Why wasn’t he as happy as I was?
The nurse asked me to get dressed and to report to the lab immediately. As I sat in the waiting room of the lab, my emotions overcame me – pregnant, not pregnant, pregnant… why was this not as easy as you see in the movies? Why was my usual jovial nurse not jumping up and down with me, picking out nursery colors with me and doing the “I get to wear maternity clothes” dance with me?
Something wasn’t right. Something was so emotional, so raw about the moment that I couldn’t take it. My body jerked, heaved and poured tears the size of golf balls – all while sitting in that damned lab waiting room. A person of usual crying control, I couldn’t contain myself any longer. I had a full melt down in that antiseptic waiting room.
Waiting for the blood test results to return was like watching the remnants of ketchup drain from the bottle. I returned to work that afternoon physically, but my mind remained a teary mess sitting outside the lab. I refused to break Mister’s heart again, as far as he knew, we weren’t successful by the morning test.
The ringing of my cell phone and seeing the doctor’s number made my stomach drop so quickly I was sure I would pass out. As I answered the phone, I suddenly knew that the news on the other side wasn’t going to be what I wanted.
“While you were successful, it does not appear to be sustaining.”
Apparently, when I thought I had hit rock bottom, I dug myself a basement to rock bottom. The saying there’s nowhere by up, was in fact a lie in this situation.
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