So I am spotting- not even spotting- staining- a little pink/beige when I wipe. Terrifying naturally, but potentially harmless. Then again, potentially a sign of miscarriage especially considering I am having mestral cramps along with it. Yeah, bad signs all around.
Add to that the fact that I got into the doctors to have my first hormone levels monitored on Thursday afternoon, meaning I will have the second level taken Saturday afternoon, and given that the clinic is not open on Sunday, I would have needed to wait until Monday to get the results.
Oh, and I am on half my medication.
Ten o'clock rolls around I am completely drained. Dim the lights, raise the curtain and cue supernatural meltdown. The kind where an uneducated observer would swear they were witnessing a one-woman exorcism: hyperventilating, dry heaving, screaming, writhing, snot explosions., each moment becoming more and more buried in anger and despair.
The despair is obvious; there is nothing like being unsure whether or not your child is actually dying inside you: the massive disappointment, the feelings of inadequacy, and helplessness; it's unreal.
Then there is the anger- at myself- for not being able to hold my shit together and for keeping my husband awake. It sounds like a little thing, but seriously, it takes quite a man to stay in bed beside a woman who, from all visible evidence, may be channeling the gateway to hell.
It is ironic, but it was probably the idea that I was upsetting him that compounded the melt down: because I was desperate to control myself and not inconvenience him, I dove head first into a frustration spiral with each choke or tremble of sadness. It wasn't until I decided to go and lay on the couch by myself that I was able to quietly kick my own ass into submission.
So this morning I awake completely sheepish and grateful to my wonderful husband, who frankly sounds a little irritated with me, but understanding. I am astonished by the amount of crap this man has to put up with. I have married a saint.
I got a call from the doctor saying that I am far enough along for an ultrasound, and we will not have to wait until Monday, but will know after our appointment today. My menstrual cramps have moved from my back to my front, and I am about 60% certain that we will not be leaving with good news. It's sucks, but we'll get through it. I don't know how, but we will get through it somehow.
I think I may go back on full medication though.