This morning’s beta was 7276.
I’ve been sitting on this for a week and a half, mainly because it feels in no way real to me. For the first few days I kept thinking, well, if this one doesn’t stick, it’s okay. We’ve learned that I can get pregnant fairly easily (certainly faster this time), we’ll just keep going. A positive test alone is so encouraging. I’m filled with gratitude for it, and I know how lucky we are to be able to conceive.
Yet something happens with each doubled beta. I start to have hope, and with the hope comes the fear. I remember this and I think, good god. I had no idea what to be afraid of, back then. How on earth do I walk through each day now, and wait, and hope?
Oddly, I find myself less anxious in some ways than I was in the first few weeks of my pregnancy with Ezra. I find this surprising, but it occurs to me that I don’t really believe in jinxes, not anymore. I’ll make it through the first trimester, or I won’t. This baby will either have the same problems, or he/she won’t. The magnitude of that possibility takes my breath away, and right now I can’t think past the next blood draw or the next scan, can’t imagine a living baby. At the same time, I feel freed from the idea that not buying anything before the birth will save us. Last time I wished on pennies and eyelashes, we never called our son by name in utero, and we don’t own a single scrap of baby clothing. None of those things made a difference. So I concentrate on what I can control, the vitamins, the food, the sleep, and I leave the rest up to the universe. I buy chewable ginger and my trusted morning sickness tea in anticipation of the days to come, which feels like an act of staggering optimism. We hope. We hope anyway.
I must add something here. I reread what I’d written before hitting publish, and it strikes me that our next child might one day read these words and believe that we weren’t as delighted to find out about him or her. The anticipation is complicated, but the joy…it’s there. So I will say this:
Lauren was on a business trip and not due back for several days. I was waiting to test until the morning of the blood draw, although I had secret suspicions that I was trying to ignore. There was distinct lack of PMS, an absence of sore breasts, which was my only clue last time. I was refusing to get my hopes up, but two days before the beta was scheduled I was sitting on the bus on my way home and was suddenly hit with a tiny wave of a very familiar exhaustion and nausea. Just for a second, but I recognized it. When I got home I broke out a First Reponse and the line darkened in seconds. And I laughed, and sent a photo to Lauren, and of course, did several more tests. Whatever happens, I want to remember that moment. For everything that happened afterwards, I still think so fondly of this one. So yes, there’s this:
And it’s wonderful.