A doctor’s worst nightmare

19 Oct

So clearly, I’m going to be my doctor’s – and my husband’s – worst nightmare for the duration of this pregnancy.

First things first, I’m pregnant. I’ve finally managed to accept that fact. The Boy has been drilling it into me over the past six days, ever since we found out. I’m four weeks and four days pregnant to be precise. But I can’t escape the thought that something is going to go wrong. Partly because my body has decided to fuck with me and is letting me enjoy some lovely cramps and ambiguous spotting that really looks an awful lot like my period, but apparently isn’t. And partly because I’ve heard so many horror stories from The Boy about all the stuff that goes wrong with the ladies that come to the ED in the wee hours of the morning with… you guessed it… cramps and spotting.

Miscarriage? Ectopic pregnancy? Molar pregnancy? Corpus Luteum cyst? Late period? Could be any one of these things, except probably the last because I’ve done that many pee tests I’m keeping my local chemist in business. I’m pretty sure I saw a Ferrari brochure on the pharmacists desk last time I was in there.  

Anyway, I’m not so good at handling the unknown. I’ve Googled way too much and whatever blanks I have left I can easily fill with stories that Ry’s told me over the years. Rationally, I know I can’t do anything if this little guy doesn’t stick, but that’s zero consolation to me right now. I want to know. Everything. Immediately. Patience is not one of my strong points.

After having finally badgered my doctor into giving me my hCG levels yesterday we found out that they were a healthy 740. Great news for so early, except it was only hours later that the cramps and spotting set in. To say I was horrified would be an understatement. But hey, what you can you do. Put on some PJ’s, hop into bed, and hope you feel better in the morning. Nothing you can do for an embryo that’s the size of a poppyseed if it doesn’t want to hang around.

I know that I – like every other healthy woman under 20 – have around a 20% chance of miscarrying. I know that since I’ve been spotting, that’s jumped up to 50%. The good news is that 50% of us bleeders have a 50% chance of having a normal pregnancy. But when you look at it like that – like I’ve now only got 25% chance of staying pregnant, instead of an 80% chance – it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that those numbers don’t look so crash hot anymore.

If only I was throwing my guts up and had sore boobs or something. I’d quite happily suck up some horrendous morning sickness if it meant I was definitely still, and going to continue to be, pregnant. Hear that, Universe? The more you lay on me, the happier I’ll be.

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