Slight Exhale

Several hours in Gynae A&E later… well, the good news first, peeps: clear heartbeat. I managed not to cry when I saw it, although I’m not sure why I was trying, really. No sign of uterine misery, but my left ovary has what looks like a million chunky follicles on it and looked most sorry for itself. This is the ovary that is usually lurking, dead as a sulky doornail; last month’s gonadrotrophins have evidently galvanised the poor old girl into A) shock and B) frantic remedial output. Said over-excited ovary, they feel, is probably being twisted about on its stalk, and is the likely culprit, taken in conjunction with a fairly blocked bowel, for the pain.

The subsequent management advice I was given reminded me of the ancient farming adage when uncertain of an ailing animal’s diagnosis: keep the bowels open and trust in God.

The not-quite-so-good news is that no matter how many times or ways the nurse measured, the crown-rump consistently measured 4 days behind, but they weren’t mightily mithered by that, so I shall attempt not to Google.

I don’t know what to think about the peesticks. I am emotionally, if not quite rationally, attached to my peestick science. I cling to the information they give, like sticks of balsa wood in the great dark tide of the Unknown. However. Given that my recent – third – peestick of the day is a little less less wishy-washy than this morning’s efforts (although still unable to hold a reagent candle to those of a week ago) I will reluctantly concede the possibility that they may, in fact, have abused my trust again. I have stoutly defended their 25-for-£2.99ness from scorn and ridicule, and yet they are still prepared, it seems, to fuck with me.

I will badger The Professor for a serial beta on Monday, assuming all is still looking ok in there. If it has gone Pete Tong by Monday, then my beta probably is dropping, and at least I shall know I wasn’t deluding myself beyond reason, although it will be scant consolation.

Sorry for worrying you, internets. I should write posts after hospital dashes, not before, when I can sow my seeds of panic in a much more measured manner.

I can now improve this pregnancy’s ranking a little. It has passed the 2 early losses with no fetal pole. It has passed the 7-weeker of appropriate size but no heartbeat and continual bleeding. It has yet to beat my 8.5-week-with-heartbeat-and-appropriate-growth first-ever pregnancy, and Harry’s 33-week-ventilated-straight-to-NICU exit. Any improvement on that would be… appreciated.

Of course, this now means that I know there is something in there to be afraid for.

I hate this. If I could safely enter an induced coma until the fat lady is singing, I would be proffering an eager arm for the needle, were it not for the time I would lose with Harry. I would cheerfully lose the X many months of my own life in order to escape the grinding anxiety and continual panic (did I mention Harry kept trying to die/arrive before viability?) – bring on the oblivion.

John has offered to wield a sand-filled sock on me as a temporary measure in emergencies. I may take him up on it.

23 Responses

  1. Turbot – naughty.

    I send hugs. Prunes. And a small dose of tears.

  2. Oh goodness me, a big exhale from here. And a heartbeat. And actual heartbeat.

  3. Oh, I’m so happy to read this. Yay!!!

    I love the “keep the bowels clear and trust in God.” Good advice for many!

  4. I found I was holding my breath when I saw you had posted.

    God but pregnancy is scary. Having spent weeks worrying about my first baby girl only to lose her at 24 weeks due to dicky heart ( now that was a fun labour) I then spent 34 and a half weeks in a state waiting for my boy ( hAving lost the other 2 heart beats at 10 weeks)

    But so worth it. Avony

  5. A heartbeat, lovely jubly!

    Get eating those prunes

  6. *squeezes HFF’s hand, breathes again*
    Fingers remain crossed.

  7. Heart beating! Hooray!

    I spent my entire pregnancy with Buddy thinking he may or may not make it. It was easier for me to be pessimistic and pleasantly surprised than the reverse. Do whatever you need to do to get through it, my dear.

  8. Oh good good good news about the heartbeat.

    But I can certainly understand how this does not decrease the worry levels much for long.

    Hang in there. Both of you.

  9. Am weeping with relief and have chewed nails down to first knuckle. Plays havoc with the typing, you know.

  10. Not posted before (lazy good for nothing lurker wot I am) but wanted to let you know I’m rooting for you (but not in the biblical sense).

  11. I am a great believer in blind faith interspersed with with serious emotional meltdowns to get through stressful times, not a great help I know!
    I hope you get your Monday Beta

  12. may your worries … um… last 40 weeks and then another lifetime? But fading lines and 4 days behind sounds like enough to worry. If it helps I’ll worry for you. I’m better at that then at heartbeats.

  13. heartbeat. exhale. Damn but this pregnancy thing is a precarious process.
    still thinking of you.

  14. ACK! Oh, honey. Pain in early pregnancy is SO scary, and so is ANYTHING less-than-perfect about a scan! My ability to sympathize from personal experience ends there, and I can only IMAGINE how awful it must all be with such a fraught obstetric history (makes mine look positively rosy by comparison, no mean feat!). I am glad to hear, at least, that you got a scan and it showed a something with a heartbeat. That’s reassuring. I hope this is all to do with your unusual anatomy and/or the marauding ovary, and that it ends in a small someone you can lay a guilt trip on for all of this pain and worry! I wish there was some way it could end in a Small Someone withOUT many moons of worry, but we’ll BOTH have to chew our shoulders, I guess (eff). Worrying right along with you! xox

  15. I’m not even sure what to feel so I can only imagine the state you are in… I hope it will suffice to say that I am keeping an eagle on your updates and think often of you. Wishing you more good news and less bad. xoxo

    • Um, hopefully you understood that I meant “eagle eye.” The whole eagle might be a bit much.

  16. But what about your father’s birthday lunch? 😉

    Glad to hear that there’s a heartbeat. I will go from completely ignoring the whole thing as if it weren’t happening at all (*looks around, whistles*) to being cautiously optimistic that your next beta and scans will be just as they should be. (Meanwhile, the back of my mind, where the pretend ESP lives, is screaming Girl!)

  17. Phew! Breathing recommencing at a steady rate here. Can you bear to step away from the pee sticks as they are not being exactly reliable for you? Or would that be more nerve-wracking?

    Will continue the positive thinking etc.

  18. Whew! Poor you, sounds like it’s been a hellish couple of days. How are the bowels doing now?

    You know, I HATED being pregnant. Nothing to do with the sick and that sort of minor irritation, I just found the whole not knowing what was going on well nigh unbearable. The cold fear every time I needed to go to the toliet, the state of nervous collapse every time I went in for a scan (and I had many, many scans). It just SUCKS. I’m with you: I’d have happily gone into a state of suspended animation. Nature should consider this. Or evolve a window in the stomach. It’s definitely time for an upgrade!

    Put not your trust in pee-sticks. The amount of properly useful information they can provide now is limited. I know, I know, you have a gazillion of the things still lying around and it’s a sin and a shame to waste them. But tuck them away, or get John to use them up. That might be good for a laugh!

    Everything crossed for Monday.

  19. Oh! Phew. Keep going, Turbo. Fervently hoping this is a blip and calm is now to follow.

  20. Do not google. I had a 5-6 week scan with a super slow heartbeat and found only dire news, but got to 38 weeks and healthy baby.

  21. Relief. At least a bit.

    WOMAN: PUT THE PEESTICKS AWAY. You know that the time has come. It’s just so hard . . . to say goodbye . . . . to yesterday, eeeee.

    Very pleased for your strong heartbeat, hoping for continued good things. Take some Tylenol (paracetamol?), put your feet up, be well.

  22. Phew! Glad there’s good physical evidence! Progesterone + Metamucil= only-way-to-go

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