Unhinged

I gave myself today off, so I could figure out the game plan and let it sink in.

When I got up, I emailed the nurse to remind her we'd sure like to know the opinion as soon as possible. Because it had been a looong weekend, after all.

Three hours later, I hadn't heard anything, so I called the nurse. No answer. Rats. My chest was tight, and I felt like my head was going to explode.

I refreshed my email on my phone and saw that the nurse was asking me to contact the monitoring clinic because she hadn't received the results. So not my understanding based on our conversation Friday.

My hackles were up. Uh oh.

I called monitoring clinic and, surprise surprise, got the voicemail. I left a message requesting (again) that the results be sent. As I hung up, I started stewing.

This happens EVERY. TIME. I. HAVE. RESULTS. TO. BE. SEEN. Every time!

I went unhinged.

I threw on some clothes, ran a brush through my wild hair, grabbed a bottle of water. And apparently dropped the apple I was eating onto the pile of laundry I was folding, so I noticed later on. Yeah, I was in rare form by this point.

I zipped to Big City, no traffic at this time of day. As I stormed the front desk, a nurse simultaneously called to let me know she had faxed the results. I begged to talk to her in person, and she accommodated my request. I wanted matters to be in my hands, darn it. I took a picture of the report with my phone and emailed it to Dr K's nurse. With a "woosh" of my phone, I knew it was finally going to be in the hands of my doctor!

I was really worked up and upset. I was going on 75 hours with the news that my baby was probably dead, but maybe not.

I looked over the report and noticed two important facts: 1) They had me at 7w on Friday, when I was really 6w5d 2) They had me measuring at 6w2d, not 6w as I was told.

So I was really measuring 3 days behind, not almost a week as I was lead to believe. 

WHAT IN THE HECK?!?

I decided I had just enough time to head across the state to Dr K's office, if I drove straight there. I'd sit in the lobby if I had to, if I still didn't have answers, if the nurse hadn't called me. I wasn't prepared to have another night of not knowing, and I'd assume to just drive there and be a squeaky wheel if that's what it took.

My mom met me to join in on the ride, ready with pitchforks... errr... a deep desire to have some answers.

I felt a la the lady astronaut who wore a diaper and drove all day over a boyfriend issue. Nothing was stopping me. My mom felt a la Terms of Endearment meltdown. I have to admit, both offices were very nice today, but one cross look, and this would have been me!

Luckily, before I got too, too far, I heard back from the nurse.

She said Dr. K noticed right away that the dating was incorrect. He didn't say if the report itself was good or bad but he had enough hope to order another ultrasound for this Thursday. At that point I will be 7w4d. Measuring 3 days behind feels not as scary, and knowing the baby grew 3 days in 4 days (between bleeding ultrasound and scheduled ultrasound) rather than 1 day in 4 days feels so comforting. Now, if only we could get a heartbeat!!

I immediately felt a cool rush after talking to her. There is hope. There is a plan. It sucks to wait til Thursday, but I'd prefer to have the most accurate interpretation so a miscarriage isn't forced on a viable baby.

Several people have told me they have "good feelings" about this pregnancy (before all this mess) including the donors as well as close friends. I have felt that way myself, down in my heart. If we get bad news, I will be resigned to it and will find a way to cope, but I will no longer believe in intuition.

I am fully prepared for bad news. I've been living a literal nightmare for four days now.

But I am pleading for good news.