After a night of evil bastard cramps and soreness, thrashing about on the In-Laws’ remarkably uncomfortable sofa-bed, keeping H awake (guilt, guilt (but at least that meant he was available for heating-pad re-heating duty at 4 am, and that helped a lot)), we decided to decamp. We were supposed to be going to my mother’s for New Year’s Eve. Given yesterday’s events, however, we thought, on the whole, no. H had hired a car for the week, so it was simple matter to pile all our stuff back into it and go home ad libitum.
Hello, I’m at home.
I have a letter from the Deepest Countryside A&E to hand to whatever A&E we would be nearest to on New Year’s Day, begging them to do the repeat beta. (New Year’s Day, it’s A&E or nothing, because all gynaecology clinics, path labs, and GPs are shut. Very glad the Deepest Countryside A&E doctor thought of that). Being at home, we can go to the Mothership Hospital, who have all my notes anyway, and who have a decent Emergency Gynaecology unit. That is tomorrow’s plan.
Meanwhile, chez Cute Ute, after last night’s argh argh argh argh, I produced a few blood clots and then cheered up a bit. I’m still bleeding, but it’s not been as heavy as ‘usual’ (H thinks this may well be because it’s only two weeks since I last emptied out). However, it’s all making one extremely unhopeful of any last-minute reprises or nice surprises. Especially the clots. I’m afraid I lacked the moral courage/nerves of steel/balls of titanium to fish them back out of the lavatory bowl and examine them, so we have no hard evidence of anything at all, but still, I gather that bleeding clots is not normally compatible with viable embryos.
I still have the positive pee-stick in my hand-bag. It makes me furiously angry just to look at it, which is why it’s still in there. Can’t take it out without having an aneurysm.
Anyway, given that today has been dedicated to sitting about on our arses waiting for something dreadful to happen, I have been number-crunching. Here are the possibilities I’ve come up with so far:
- I ovulated on the 1st of December, got pregnant, did not realise it because a) my temperature dropped on dpo 13 and b) I started bleeding heavily on dpo 14, and I assumed (how irrational of me) that it was my period. Didn’t bother with a pregnancy test, because, seriously, I’d just started my period. On time. However, I was pregnant, it survived the onrushing crimson tide, I am now 6 weeks gone (by that absurd calculation that tacks two weeks on prior to ovulation on the assumption that everyone ovulates on day 14), but the poor bloody thing was not viable (see, beta of only 33) and Cute Ute has only just got around to noticing it’s still there and is busy finishing her tidying and scrubbing.
- I ovulated on the 1st of December etc. etc., but managed it twice or the egg divided, there were twins, one was a chemical that fell out as and when my period started, and the other clung on for another couple of weeks but wasn’t viable either etc. etc.
- I ovulated on the 1st of December etc. etc., it was ectopic, and survived the crimson tide by being wedged in my fallopian tube, and is now making its deeply unwelcome presence felt.
- Both the latter, only the clinging-on one was the one wedged in the fallopian tube.
- The ‘period’ I thought I was having on the 15th of December was a real proper period. Then, for some bizarre reason, I ovulated on, say, day 8 of the cycle (I had some [TMI warning] watery cervical fluid and ovarian twinging that day), or at any time after day 6. H and I had had *cough* an intimate moment *cough* on day 6, so it has to be then or thereafter. I instantly fell pregnant, pregnant enough to get two positive pee-tests (mine, the hospitals) and a positive beta by day 16 of the cycle, or only 7 or 8 days later. The cramps and bleeding are, given this scenario, bloody weird indeed. Implantation bleeding? A very early ectopic which hurt and bled because fallopian tubes object to ravening little blastocysts digging in? My uterus is now violently allergic to embryos? Midwich Cuckoos?
Anything I’ve missed? Because, to me, all the above scenarios look equally fucked-in-the-head ridiculous. But still, yesterday I was pregnant. And the only person more surprised than me was H. Poor H.