Official Peesticking

  • Peesticks this morning were all… pretty damn respectable, aktually. Significantly darker than yesterday’s, which were, in turn, significantly darker than the day before. My estimate of exactly how much hCG I am currently packing has risen, rather.
  • The sample tube my clinic gave me for the purpose of Offical Peesticking had vanished: I last saw Harry using it several days ago as a money box/maraca. So, I merely turned up and told them I was… and my fingers have ground to a halt above the keyboard, because this is hard for me to even think, let alone Commit To Publish. Okay, lets just type it really quick I told them I was pregnant *pause to breathe and avert eyes from previous type* and waved a peestick or two about. ‘Oh, okay, good!’ they said. 
  • My appointment was at 3.15pm. Lab results take 3 hours+, so I won’t know if I’ve reached the magic 3 figures until tomorrow morning. I don’t think Nursey was particularly bothered about taking a beta for the clinic, in fact, but equally, had no problems with jabbing me for one when I asked. I hope she’s as obliging when I request a repeat on Wednesday.
  • Nursey scuttled off to consult with The Professor, who sent back a pleased message, a renewed promise to hold my hand for the duration, and a squeezed-on-the-end appointment in her weekly clinic, for my six week scan. (‘My six week scan’! What, what a preposterously presumptuous phrase. I kid you not, I am squirmingly uneasy about typing all this. I feel fraudulent. I feel as if the Miscarriage Fairy, with her gory, dripping wings, will lurch wetly in my direction at any moment, cackle April Fool!, and send All To Ruin.)
  •  Except that six weeks from now is a Bank Holiday, so it will actually be a seven week scan instead. Which is fine with me, because by then, either there will be a visible heartbeat, or there will never be a heartbeat. No ‘come back in 5 days and see if it has one’ type-terror. I have been there. I have burnt the t-shirt.
  • I have been prescribed double the usual dose of progesterone support – 400mg twice daily; I am continuing with 75mg aspirin twice daily, (to which therapy I am, for want of any other ideas, ascribing my unprecedentedly minimal cramping) and I have been prescribed heparin at twice the dose previous suggested I take: 40mg/day.  
  • I collected the heparin from the hospital pharmacy: the NHS is funding my blood thinning. I have dutifully Jabbed Myself.
  • The NHS is NOT funding my progesterone, as it is viewed as a residual part of my privately-funded cycle. The hospital pharmacy attempted to charge me £47 for 28 x 400mg pessaries that should cost £20, so I stalked off in horror to redeem that prescription elsewhere. 
  • I reason with myself that this is a Promising Pre Preg Preeeeg Set of Circumstances. Turbo was evidently a Decent Specimen, and the odds of aneuploidy are therefore reduced. Turbo is in the right place. Turbo’s blood supply is thinned down to a sort of watery pink, I feel, and please don’t brush against me or I will bruise like Ross Geller. And yet every twitch, every twinge, every small wave of heat, has me expecting to find the worst every time I visit the toilet. 
  • This, as a way to spend a prolonged period of time, sucks donkey balls. I have a good deal of experience of it, sadly.
  • I have been sufficiently foolish to browse a calendar in a sort of hypothetical exercise in counting, and Christ almighty, that sort of behaviour is like a neon Victim Lives Here! sign to the Miscarriage Fairy. My d… d… du… look, there’s this really, really random date. 26th December. Viability reached the very day Harry starts primary school in September.
  • I concealed my pregnancy (past tense is ok, strangely) with Harry from a good many people until nearly 17 weeks – the sole benefit of extreme chubbiness – and STILL felt icky as hell accepting congratulations.
  • So, it’s probably better if we all look very hard the other way and pretend none of this ever happened, and none of us know anything. See, I have my hands in my pockets, look? I’m whistling! Nothing to see here!
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