It was only after my most recent beta came back at 3152 that I had the courage to pee on a stick, at which point, many would comment, the double pink line was beside the point. To the critics, I say no. This stupid plastic stick has been my nemesis for five long years – announcing only failed cycles and doomed pregnancies when faint lines appeared a week too late, tied inextricably to so much trauma – so with the bravery supplied by some fresh bloodwork, I decided to re-frame the HPT. Merry Christmas, indeed!
So now that we’ve conquered the white window, I’m working on the black one: the ultrasound screen. We drove to Jersey yesterday morning for monitoring, 5w2d, hoping to see a yolk sac. I’m not totally sure that happened. There was a grainy screen, a small gestational sac measuring 4.4mm, a doctor who appeared to be approximately 14 years old, and her claims that she saw the faint white ring that promises normal growth but couldn’t get a good picture to show us. Then there were statements that contributed to the mounting fear, like bringing me back “in a few days…to be sure.”
I want so badly to relax into this as a reality, but my guess is it’s going to be an uncomfortable kind of happy for quite awhile longer.