Functioning

What do I write about? Dare I let myself hope that the little pip in my belly will become a full blown rainbow babe? Do I throw caution to the wind and gush about how happy I am? Talk about the happy trips we will make as a family of three? Look at little onesies with cute animals on and throw nappies into the shopping trolley so we are stocked up?

No of course I don't. I am in that limbo land that all Babyloss Mamas must find theselves in once they see that positive test again.

I am living in a semi permanent state of fear. Every wipe of the toilet roll is inspected for the mereest hint of blood. Every twinge analysed, every pain googled. I have no peace. I have no reason to think this will turn out well, just as I have no reason to think it won't.
Everyone I have told has that cheerful optimism of someone who hasn't lost a baby. "I have a good feeling about this one". "This pregnancy will be fine, don't you worry".
I have found myself making strange bargains with the universe, like if I can cross the road before the lights change then my baby will be born alive. Then I cry if the lights change whilst I am still crossing, then I get annoyed because I know rationally a set of traffic lights have no bearing on whether this pip will make it to term and be born alive.
I think the most killing thing is the uncertainty. The not knowing if I will be back in hospital next week for another ERPC or if I will be reading this back in a years time with a milky smelling babe asleep in my arms. How I hope and pray it is the latter one.

Tomorrow I go back for the second of repeat blood tests. This is to give me more of an idea if the pregnancy is viable. The Sister will call me tomorrow afternoon with the verdict.

I am counting down the days until my scan. I have played every scenario out in  my head. Mainly the 'no heartbeat' scenario. I am steeling myself for bad news.
Time seems to be going slowly, the days drag past. Every now and then I let myself dream for a second and imagine a little further than next Thursday, imagine getting to feel a baby kick and tumble around inside me again.

Today I am 5+3. I hope you are OK in there Rainbow Babe. I hope Lucy will look down on you and keep you safe. I hope that this is our time. I hope so much I get to hold you in 8 months.

I am a mole and I live in a hole

I need to write stuff down. It's going round my head, I can't concentrate. I am going through the motions, lights on, nobody home. No one rational anyway.

It's been a while since I've blogged. It comes down to the part nervous breakdown I had after my last period showed up. I freaked out completely. I screamed and cried and scratched my legs and face in rage. Total, utter psycho.
So as I sat, a sobbing mess on the floor of the bathroom, I decided something had to give. I looked at my huge flabby belly in the mirror and decided baby stuff was not on the agenda this month. Weight loss was my new obsession. So I've been rigidly following slimming world and exercising, weight loss so far 12lb. Feeling good about myself, but still a stone to lose before I am pre-baby weight, and I don't just mean the Lucy Lu weight as I also put a few pounds on with the babies I miscarried.

However something came along and has put a spanner in the works. After 5 months of hoping, I finally got to see 2 pink lines over the weekend.

I'm pregnant.

I currently have no less than 20 various test brands on the windowsill, all with differing strengths of line. You would think that this news would have me jumping for joy, right?
Well, it did for about half an hour. For half an hour I was blissfully happy, I kept telling John I had a 'good feeling' about this one. So did he, and we grinned at each other like loonies for a bit. But being me, and a total POAS-aholic, I wanted to see it in words. So we drove to the shop, and I plumped for those new fangled digital tests that have a 'conception indicator' to tell you how far along you are. Not cheap.
We drove home and I excitedly chattered about scans and telling people and the normal stuff your mind races with when you see those glorious lines appear. I was determined to be excited, no  matter what happened I wanted to revel in the joy of pregnancy whilst I had it.

Bizarrely though, the digital test had the opposite effect on me than calming me. Within a minute the word 'Pregnant' appeared and then below, where it tells you an approximate conception date, '3+' appeared.

3+....?

Meaning I was 5 weeks or more pregnant. Which is a physical impossibility. I know I conceived this cycle. 100%. When I took the test I was 4+1 according to my LMP. It should have only said 1-2 weeks, hell I could have lived with 2-3 weeks. But 3+ weeks? How the hell can my hormone levels be so high that they triggered that response?

So like any paranoid dead baby mama , I googled my little heart out. For hours. And the 4 conclusions I have found with regards to high HCG are:

1. I miscalculated my dates. As I didn't temp or chart properly this month I actually don't know when I ovulated. I thought I HADN'T ovulated, so fuck knows. This is a possibility, I could be a few days further on than I thought.
2. My levels are high, but still 'nomal'. The Clearblue tests are gimmicky, and not an exact science. The test strip that 'diagnoses' the conception is not terribly accurate, it just relies on the strength of a line to predict the level of hormone present and thus how far along. In fact that makes it sounds more scientific than it is. So I could just have high levels and still be fine.
3. It's a multiple pregnancy. As neither John nor myself have a family history of multiples, and I have not had any fertility drugs, I severely doubt this is the case. But it is not entirely improbable.
4. It is a Molar pregnancy.

 Molar. A Molar Pregnancy. These are the words, that once I read them, have been going round and roung my crazy little brain. This is the worst case scenario. The thought that in my uterus is not currently a baby, but an out of control cluster of cells. Growing and growing like a cancer, and pumping out massive amounts of HCG. If it is a molar pregnancy, we won't be able to TTC for a YEAR after my HCG levels return to zero. And it could take months for that to happen.
It's all I can think about. I have totally convinced myself that this is the case. I am already devastated for the loss of this pregnancy and I have not even had a scientific opionion yet.
Molar pregnancies are rare, 1:1000 pregnancies apparently. Surely, surely we can't have THAT much bad luck? I mean come on, I'm not trying to complete the 'baby loss' set - spontaneous miscarriage, missed miscarriage, stillbirth...and Molar?

But no matter how I try, I can't seem to to get this thought out of my head. It haunts my every thought. I have googled to exhaustion the meaning of high HCG levels, the consequences and symptoms of molar pregnancies. My mind is full of information, and this is a bad thing. Too much information is a BAD thing.

I have a blood result due back on Friday to tell me what my level of HCG was as of yesterday, 4+3.
And I have a viability scan on April 8th.

D-day.

The scan that will tell me if I have an uncanny sixth sense and this pregnancy is doomed, or if it is pure, unadulterated PARANOIA caused by experiencing nothing but loss so far in my journey for a family.

Please keep everything crossed for me, pray for me. I think another loss would leave me totally broken.