I kept waiting for it yesterday. Waiting for my period to come. Waiting for a miscarriage to happen. It didn’t. This is good. I think I am just so traumatized by the last two that now I am not convinced this will happen. That it can happen. Even though it did once and I have an awesome little boy to show for it. Every time I go to the bathroom, I close my eyes and hope that when I sit down, there won’t be anything there. Fairly sure my blood pressure goes up from the anxiety every single time.
I had another blood draw today to see if the HCG numbers are doubling the way they need to. Who knows when the results will be in. I *might* have checked “STAT” on the lab sheet myself, even though the doctor’s office didn’t. I *might* have.
I’m nauseous, but I think that’s anxiety and stress related, not pregnancy related. It’s like in the cartoons – with the angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other. The angel keeps assuming that today’s results will be fine and we will be ok. The devil on the other shoulder gets annoyed by the assuming because nothing is guaranteed, as I well know. And with my recent history, it’s more likely to be a poor outcome than a good one.
I think I just want the numbers and the immediate uncertainty to be done.