So, not to get all dramatic on you or anything, but remember the spotting that I mentioned in passing when I was telling the How We Found Out I Was Pregnant story? Nearly three weeks after it began, it still hasn’t gone away.
I’ve read enough to know that spotting in early pregnancy is common, that it could be a sign of something bad but could also be something completely harmless. Nevertheless, the morning after that pregnancy test turned up positive (day six of the spotting, in case you were wondering), I was on the phone with my doctor’s office. After I answered some questions, the friendly nurse told me it was probably nothing to worry about, and to call her back if it continued for another week.
Ah, yes, nothing to worry about. You all know how that goes. My conversation with the nurse was on Wednesday (the day I wrote this post) and by Saturday I was a wreck. That was when I really started devoting myself to conquering my fear. And somewhere in there I realized that I would be afraid even if there was no physical reason for it. This whole thing is thrilling but also terrifying and, just like with grief, there is no way around the terror. The only way is to go through it. So through it I started, and by grace fear was forced to loosen its grip on me, and I was doing somewhat better in a few days.
Nevertheless, when Tuesday came around, it occurred to me that perhaps I should call the doctor immediately so there would be plenty of time to go in before we left town on Friday. I called the office, and the receptionist, probably in response to the semi-frantic note in my voice, scheduled me to come in that afternoon. I had an ultrasound, which showed a sac measuring four weeks six days – a week small by the dates, but exactly what I had expected based on what I’d observed during my cycle – and an exam, and everything looked good. The doctor reassured me that she’s had patients spot through their entire first trimesters for no apparent reason – which actually did make me feel better – and sent me off to be bled.
They were looking, of course, for hCG doubling time, which meant I had to go in again on Thursday afternoon. Fortunately, the nurse had told me the best lab to go to (my doctor works with a network of them) and I was in and out in minutes both times, which was a pleasant change from previous experiences. Friday we were at the airport when the doctor called my cell phone to tell me that the hCG “just about doubled” in forty-eight hours, which she considered to be good news. She also told me what I already knew – that until I go in for another scan after we return from our trip, there’s no other reassurance they can give me. We just have to wait and see.
Meanwhile, I’m reassured because my pregnancy symptoms are increasing. I didn’t have any nausea until this weekend but now I’ve got it in spades, and more each day. (I never thought I’d be happy to feel sick!) But at the same time, the spotting is scary, and I know that we are by no means out of the woods yet.
I’ve been praying hard and constantly these past days, that tiny Pāhoehoe will stay firmly lodged in there. (The name was assigned by my eternally creative younger siblings – my sister’s baby is ‘A‘a, for the other type of lava.) The waiting is not my favorite thing, but what can you do? In the meantime, I’m trying to remember to enjoy this, as I am, after all, very happy to be pregnant. Imagine that.