I was enjoying a reasonably pleasant morning at babysign class when I received a phone call from the lab tech. It seems my HcG levels are not doubling. I know they are supposed to double. I even called my dear friend who has suffered numerous losses to confirm. They had only gone up 200 whatevers from Friday to Monday.
After calling what seemed like 5000 people trying to get the numbers faxed over so I could get yet another blood test and perhaps an ultrasound, the dr on base came through and I headed to the hospital for an ultrasound - on the belly and in the hoo-ha - all with my daughter sitting on top of me. Gotta love being straddled by your daughter while you lay half-naked with a condom covered penis looking thing that you are sticking up your crotch. Anyway, there is something in there - my uterus that is - but they can't see a heartbeat or a fetal pole. But, don't get disheartened just yet.
It is still early - they say only about 4 weeks - and alas, you can't see that stuff then anyway. BUT, it still does not explain my non-doubling numbers. After discussing it briefly with an unfriendly, bow-tie wearing, pearshaped 80 year old Cajun doctor, I felt like I had already lost the baby. And in fact, chances are good that I have - considering (as he put it) I had twins and lost one (that would actually be the GOOD thing) or I'm miscarrying early.
I appreciate the frankness, and the honesty, but can one offer ANY glimmer of hope at all? Would that be too hard to do? I'm repeatedly reminded about how women's health in this country (specifically in my lovely town) has gone down the tubes - where you become a NUMBER and a FIGURE and nothing else and where your feelings, thoughts, and intelligence level are not taken into consideration. I am constantly reminded of Naomi Wolf's book Misconceptions and how women's health has become a business as usual. Read it - it's amazing.
And through all this, I see my little one (the 19 month old) smiling at me. She blows kisses to dogs, birds, bugs, and anything else that lives. She cheers when I pull an extra fruit leather from my bag. She sings and dances to all my ridiculous songs. She gives me kisses, holds me tight, and reminds me about the beauty of my life. And I know that if it never happens again for me - if she is my only one - that I will be fulfilled - I will not be empty. I want more kids - for her and for us, but I never thought I would have kids anyway - she was my Brady (ala SatC's Miranda). And, I'm so thankful for her - oh SO thankful.
So, I'm a realist - an optimist for others - a realist for me. Always skeptical and cynical. Hell, I wrote a will in 1992 when I went to Switzerland with my youth orchestra fearing terrorist attacks since we were a big group of Americans on one plane. I signed a pact in my diary that I would never get married (even before I ever had a boyfriend). And, granted I'm still alive AND I'm on my second marriage, I'm not the BELIEVER in all things good and right. I still know bad shit happens to good people and as of late, it seems I am one of them.
So, tell me this, good readers and visitors of MU, how would you see my glass today if you were me? Are you half-fullers? or half-emptiers? or do you even bother with the damn glass?
PS: The prospect of this story being true cheers me up a little. And, this bloggers kind words, cheers me up even more. And if you want to cheer me up, click on my renter. I'd like to think I'm a good landlord, even in not-so-great times. Thank you.