Week 4, Day 1
I didn’t provide the blow-by-blow of April’s attempt, nor the disappointment of the single line on the stick in May, nor the ramping back up for another shot at the end of May. But we did try the IUI once more, with what had to be a record number of swimmers put in place (seriously, the male endocrinologist expressed impressed). I had not one but two acupuncture appointments, and heard at the second one that the practitioner (Sarai, who is wonderful) felt I had a slippery pulse, which could indicate pregnancy, but might not. All in all, we sat tight for 11 days until we could reasonably try another home test, and didn’t get too upset when that initial home test read with just one line because after all, it was possibly a day early and in the afternoon and I’d just polished off two Topo Chicos in the preceding two hours. So I tried again on Friday morning, when I woke up at 5:30 needing to pee. When I started to see only one line again, I set it down on the counter and thought, “I’ll just go back to bed and take a look when we get up at 6:30 and it will be what it will be.”
At 6:30, Michael took Bailey outside and I went into the bathroom to look. This is what I saw.
I put it right in the pocket of my robe and hurried outside. Both Michael and Bailey were sort of wondering what I was doing out there. While Bailey chased another ball, I showed Michael. Then I had to translate The Language Of Home Pregnancy Tests for him. Then there was happy.
The forward-looking staff at Texas Fertility Clinic had stocked me up with lab slips for testing of various kinds, so we tracked down the one for See If You Really Are Pregnant and I took it to the pathology lab Friday morning on the way to the Food Bank. Then, despite the STAT order, I had to wait.
On the drive to the Food Bank, I called Jen, my nurse. “Just wanted to let you know that I had a positive test! So I used the lab slip you gave me for Monday and they drew blood this morning. So now you know to be looking for it.” Jen was nice, though she did explain that part of why they’d wanted to wait until Monday … two weeks after the 2nd IUI … was to have a more conclusive number for the HcG being measured. “On Monday, we’d expect it to be around 50,” she said. “So today it might only be in the low 20s. I just don’t want you to worry.” She promised to call as soon as the results came in.
At 11, Michael called me. “Just wanted to see if you’d heard anything yet.” No.
At 12:15 I tried to call Jen. The clinic was closed for lunch until 1:30.
At 1:30 I resisted the urge to call Jen again. “I will wait until 2. I will wait until 2.”
At 1:50, Jen called me. “Well, you’re pregnant! In fact, you’re not just pregnant… you’re VERY pregnant!” Where they’d anticipated an HcG number in the 20s, it was 72. The progesterone level that needed to be at least 15 was 32. All good. All excellently good. She went over dos and don’ts, most of which I knew, but no feta? I’ve been eating feta since I was a three-year-old living in Turkey! Oh, okay, no feta. She let me know that I’d need to repeat the blood work every Monday from now through at least July 5, during which week I’d have my first appointment. Then she told me to call Michael and fill him in and she’d see me in a couple of weeks.
And that’s where we are. Pregnant! Bearing gauze tape and a cotton ball on the outstanding blood vessel in the crook of my right arm. Always a little hungry, already always a little queasy. One heartburn attack already under my belt (home remedies being solicited). Waiting to hear today’s numbers. Knowing all the risks and dangers that lie ahead, knowing that some people will feel it is early to share our thrilled joy, knowing that the love and support and positive energy and happy thoughts of our family and friends have brought us this far and will carry us through anything great or terrible that may yet come.