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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37 Responses

  1. *Bursts into over-excited tears and cries all down HFF’s neck while hugging and jumping up and down*

    *Spends rest of evening attempting to corrall MIscarriage Fairy into a corner and stamp on her.*

  2. Did you JUST post this while I was nagging for an update on the other post? Great minds… And Boxing Date is very popular as a due date this year, I hear. IN THEORY, mind.

  3. That should read Boxing DAY. The day we all eat the leftover turkey and gorge on crap telly. Lallla, nothing else possibly going on.

  4. Nope, nothing to see here. Holding on to my celebratory thoughts…

    But I’ll join May in the Miscarriage Frairy stamping.

  5. I am very happy to hear of the Promising Circumstances!

    And when you don’t want to tell, that odd bit of blubber does indeed come in handy. I was nearly 20 weeks before I told the family that see me on a day to day basis. And I only did it then because I was taken into hospital and it was kind of hard to hide that under a baggy t-shirt….

  6. I’ll whisper my congrats and keep all crossed for you. Is your progesterone cyclagest? Shudders and clenches buttocks in memory!!! Lol
    Good luck 🙂

  7. *Rolls up sleeves, arms self with large pointy stick, plants self firmly in front of the hairy farmer house ready to beat off and stab any miscarriage fairies that come calling… Thinks might need feeding with cake though, keep up the energy for the next 8 months and all that…*

  8. 🙂 Nothing to see until you tell us there’s something to see.

  9. A very small rainbow-coloured farteen has escaped. I’m clenching very hard, and waving the Gory Fairy away even harder.

  10. Look at that. I’m finding myself in a remarkably good mood and I couldn’t tell you why. Just something in the air, perhaps. 😉

    (Go ahead and stomp the ever-loving crap out of Miscarriage Fairy; think it’s safe to say no one will mind but her.)

  11. Oh my goodness.

    This is very, um … not really exciting at all.

    So anyway, what was the pee stick count in the end? And when will you stop using them?

  12. I am a great believer in the nothing to see here approach, so firmly on board.

    However…

    *puts on stilletos and approaches the trapped fairy.*

  13. Move along, says my sign. Nothing to see here. I agree that we will all just keep a watch on that Fairy, perhaps we can set up shifts? I am pretty good with a supersoaker spray gun filled with vinegar water, I hear that fairies hate that on their wings!

  14. Oh my good god!!!! Thank you so much for posting an update. Been checking in like a bloomin stalker!

    Am smiling ear to ear – cheeks hurt. No reason you know, oh no siree!!!

    Cyclogest. Blah. 24 weeks of the stuff I had. Only part of my cycle that was NHS funded, bless em

    M x

  15. Moving right along, armed with Big Stick and Pointy Shoes.

  16. Was there a post here? I didn’t see nuffin, me.

    And yet for some reason I find everything crossed. It’s bloody uncomfy, I’ll tell you…

  17. Staying calm and carrying on

  18. I won’t say anything, other than I’m reading and chewing my lips!

  19. This is my one moment of non-brevity where I say that little in life would give me as much joy as being a Christmas Auntie-by-proxy for you and May.

    That, and I’ve bought industrial strength Anti-Miscarriage Fairy ointment from America, and lord knows you can’t fuck with industrial strength anything here. I bring for you.

  20. Didn’t read any of that post. I knew the nasty fairy too, humming loudly and tunelessly is as good as anything else to keep her away.

    Will still keep everything crossed for a few more weeks 😉

  21. Resolutely ignoring any semblance of goings on chez HFF here. Have relatively easy access to heavy weaponry and burly soldiers to help with the fairy battering plan. Maybe a no fly zone should be imposed?

  22. I am looking the other waqy, but in an excited and positive manner!

  23. WOW WOW, no no, not wow, not wow. La la? Yes! La-diddle-la-la! Whistle whistle, insouciant whistling. And some pacing, no, no, not pacing, strolling, wandering aimlessly, singing a little ditty of not looking, not looking at all.

    But kick, KICK, stamp stamp, SLAM and DON’T COME BACK you miserable excuse for a fairy!

    La-la!

  24. Was something said while I was not watching? No? Ah, well…back to ironing the rah rah skirt while I whistle tunelessly.

  25. I never heard nothing.

    That bastard fairy better not show up unless she wants a shin-kicking from the entire Interwebs.

    *wanders off, whistling, wearing VERY BIG BOOTS*

  26. oh dear. i may have let a wee rainbow unicorn fart slip out just now. in the interests of wisdom and discretion, i’ll limit myself to only regular farts in the future and in the direction of that wretched fairy.

  27. […] I can’t be totally gloomy. Other deserving people‘s peesticks are behaving better. Just… don’t mention it to them.   […]

  28. Not squealing at all. No jumping up and down whatsoever on this side of the pond. Oh, and yes, I’ll be joining the MC fairy hunting party. Hot oil and fire arrows over the walls, perhaps?

  29. […] duly despatched the prescription from my clinic to a respectable online pharmacy, who charged me half what the hospital pharmacy attempted to. These, sadly, are currently sitting in a courier depot Somewhere Unknown. Seeing the […]

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