Wednesday, January 9, 2013

Not 11 weeks

Today I am officially precisely not 11 weeks pregnant. It's been two weeks since I took the misoprostol, three since the ultrasound where the RE said "I don't see a heartbeat".

Things are okay. I had a followup appointment two days after the misoprostol, and everything looked good and clear. That was the best I could've hoped for. My pee-sticks are still a lot darker than I'd like, but I guess it takes some women a really long time to clear out all the hCG. I can't start another cycle until my level is all the way down and I have another period, so I'm just spinnin' my wheels here. I have another followup on Friday. I imagine they'll start doing blood tests every week or two until I'm at zero.

Time floats by so aimlessly when you're unpregnant. Pregnant means that every day is an achievement, and is moving closer to Something Big. Unpregnant you're just waiting for something that may or may not happen. And if you can only conceive with fertility treatment, you're waiting to start waiting for something that may or may not happen.

I'm mostly back in the TTC mindframe (as opposed to the pregnant mindframe). I know how to do this; I've spent a lot more time trying to get pregnant than I have actually being pregnant.  But some part of me, maybe 10%, is still stunned and saying wtf happened here?  See, it all just seemed so right. The transfer was exactly on my birthday. The due date was exactly my mother's birthday. My BFF is pregnant right now, and we were going to be pregnant together. Some things are just meant to be, you know?

Some things, but apparently not this one.

A poem has been stuck in my mind: A Refusal to Mourn the Death, by Fire, of a Child in London. I don't know why. I have only a weak affinity for poetry, and almost none for Dylan Thomas; most of it just reads as word-salad to me. But this one has been drawing me back. I guess "unmourning water" is really a pretty good description of the resting place of those two tiny embryos, poor miniscule brine shrimp, released unto the municipal sewer system.

1 comment:

  1. I definitely know what you mean about the weird way that time passes when you're waiting to even be able to start TTC again. Thinking of you.

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