I love my Mother-In-Law. I am one of the very few women I’ve ever come across who not only likes their MIL, but that actually has some semblance of a relationship with them. Theresa and I not only have a good relationship, but we have (at least in my opinion) a special bond that allows us to be very close. She is one of my closest friends, and the one to whom I turn to for spiritual guidance more often than anyone else. I love her dearly and couldn’t imagine my life without her in it.
But at this very moment in time, I am simply dreading our next conversation.
As you may remember, last cycle was metaphorically speaking, the “basket” into which I placed all of my eggs. After TTC for over two years for baby #2, Matthew and I decided that we would give IUI a chance. I injected myself every single day for several days with Follistim to mature several egg follies, and then gave myself one last injection of Ovidrel, a trigger shot to force my body to release all matured eggs. Two days later we went in for the IUI and my RE deposited 92 million sperm into the top of my uterus at the opening of the fallopian tubes. Perfect placement, perfect timing. Now all we had to do was wait. But considering that we were leaving the next day for a 10 day vacation to Illinois to see my husband’s family prior to his deployment this summer, I should be busy enough to avoid placing every single “symptom” under scrutiny.
The vacation was going well, except for the nasty case of bronchitis that my son John and I picked up while we were there. Then on 10 DPO my hopes and dreams of having another child came crashing down around me.
It started off as light pinky-brown spotting, but before I went to bed that night it was a full blown period. And I don’t mean “go through a couple tampons a day” kinda period; more like “somebody bring me a bucket” kinda period! There was clotting, and I was going through lots of tampons/pads a day. For the first three days I ended up needing to use both pads and tampons at the same time! And of course, we were right in the middle of traveling home while the bleeding was at it’s heaviest.
I was done. Emotionally, physically, spiritually DONE. I refused my REs advise to go back on oral meds for the next cycle, telling him that I was putting TTC on an indefinite hold. I just didn’t have it in me to keep going. And once the decision was made and all my appointments were cancelled, I felt as though the weight of the world had just been lifted from my shoulders.
I was finally FREE!!
Fast forward 15 days to April 4th. While I hadn’t been using any OPKs or temping, I knew just from charting everything for so long that the 4th was CD 15, which should’ve been right around O time. The hubby and I had been BD like crazy, but not for the sake of TTC; more because it had finally dawned on us that he’d be leaving soon. I dropped my son off at therapy and went to spend a few hours with my Mom, like I do every single Monday morning. When I got there, everyone was asleep. I decided that I would go pee and then stretch out on the couch to snooze a bit, since I’d been really tired for a few days.
When I wiped after I had used the restroom, I was very surprised to see blood on the toilet paper. It was a light red and mixed with quite a bit with CM. There wasn’t much of it, but it startled me. I was right around O time, but I had never had any bleeding during O ever in my life. I asked my girlfriends if they could come up with a reason for it, and they were all left scratching their heads, too. The only thought I could come up with was that my body was just trying to regulate itself after months of dumping hormones into it.
As I was heading home to put my son to bed for his nap after school, I called my MIL to see if she had any ideas. Her answer of course, was to take a pregnancy test.
But she’d been convinced (since before we left Illinois, to be exact) that it was still possible for me to be pregnant. I had tried to make her understand that the period I had was in fact a “period” and not implantation bleeding. I did everything short of drawing her a picture to explain how heavy the bleeding had been, and that implantation bleeding was a light spotting and nothing more. As much as I loved this woman, I was beginning to become frustrated that she just couldn’t let it go, regardless of how I felt about being done. It felt like she was still trying to get me to cling to some ridiculous false hope when I knew better.
So upon her suggestion that I (once again) take a pregnancy test, I became a little short with her and informed her that I wasn’t going to continue to piss on my money just to satisfy her curiosity. She asked when the last time was that I had POAS, and I told her “The morning I started my PERIOD and it was a BFN!” She begged me to take just one more, for her sake. She said that if it was negative, she’d never mention it again. My response?
“If it’ll shut you up, I’ll take a test when I get home and I get John to bed.”
We got home and I got Bubby changed and laid down for his afternoon nap. I got everything ready and peed in the cup. I decided to use one of the dozens of cheapie test strips I’d gotten off eBay two or three cycles ago instead a much more expensive FRER. I knew that the dang thing would be a BFN and I didn’t want to waste a more expensive test just to satisfy my MIL. So I dipped the test strip in the pee, set it down on the sink to process as I stood up and got myself all situated. When I turned back around to wash my hands, I saw what I thought was a shadowy faint line appearing. I figured, “What the hell” and went ahead and dunked the FRER anyway.
I had no words. None at all. Shock wasn’t even a big enough word to describe the exact way I was feeling. Just to be sure (as if there was any doubt in my mind), I dipped 2 more cheapies, all coming up with the same positive result.
Having spent the better part of 15 years researching the way the female body works with regards to TTC, I knew that 15 days into a cycle wasn’t nearly enough time to have O’d, had the egg become fertilized, had it travel down the fallopian tubes, had time for it to have successfully implanted into the uterine lining, and had enough time for the hCG to build up in my system enough to have produced a BFP that dark. There was just no way it was physically possible.
Theresa had been right all along. I had to have been pregnant since I left Illinois. Oh God. She was NEVER going to let me live this down!
The first person I called was my husband, who lovingly laughed his ass off at the bewildered tone of my voice. And then he laughed at me again when the answer to his question of when the baby would come was an even more bewildered “I have no idea!”
It didn’t feel real. I didn’t feel pregnant. I had no breast soreness, no morning sickness, no nothing.
How could this be possible? I had a heavy period, and then it turns out that I’m pregnant! Oh crap! I’ve gotta call the RE!!
So I call the REs office and they tell me that I’ve already got a quantitative hCG test ordered, and then they scheduled me for a viability scan on the 18th of April. So I ran to have my blood drawn and waited for what felt like forever to get the results. I reminded myself that as far as blood tests go, any hCG amount over 5 mIU was considered positive, so if the numbers were low I shouldn’t get my hopes up too high.
The next morning after getting up, getting John’s breakfast and changing his diaper, I logged into my REs secure online site to check the results. And sure enough, the results were in.
My beta hCG levels as of the day before were 1,298 mIU!
Well, I guess that proves it: