Dare I say it?

I am dangerously close to approaching something like optimism. What is this horse shit?

Had my follow up sonogram with the RE this afternoon. Peanut is still in there. I’m 8 weeks, 3 days, but measuring 8 weeks, 6 days. Overachiever. Heart rate is a little higher than they’d like, but still in the acceptable range. I blame it on the crippling anxiety I had been experiencing in the hours leading up to the appointment. The RE lectured me that I’d have to start accepting the fact that I might actually give birth in 7 months and calm the fuck down. I’m paraphrasing of course but the sentiment is there.

I’ve officially been kicked out of the RE’s care and released to my OB. So I’m just like…a normal pregnant lady now? Weird but okay. I called her office and they actually managed to get me in in a little less than 2 weeks from now, the first week of April. I’ll be 10 weeks.

We (meaning my husband and I) actually talked a little bit today in a more concrete way. We’ve kind of spent the last 4.5 weeks not really acknowledging the elephant in the room. Today we actually talked about life like it included a little one coming along in late October.

This will definitely take some adjustment. I don’t deal very well with optimism. But I’m trying.



We still have a little peanut. Measuring right on schedule at 6 weeks, 6 days, heart beating at 138bpm. We heard the heartbeat, y’all. That was…surreal. It doesn’t feel real at all. I’ve said it many times…does IVF actually WORK for people? Because my last two failures have kind of set me up to believe this is all just a pipe dream.


But hey. Today I am pregnant with a little peanut with a heartbeat. I go back in a week and a half for one more sonogram. If all is still progressing as it should be, I’ll be released to my OB.

So for now…I have to keep reminding myself to breathe.

Make the anxiety stop.

I’m hanging on by a thread, y’all. A thread.

My ultrasound to confirm pregnancy isn’t until Friday and I am one massive ball of nerves. Yesterday brought me to the 6 week mark. I check for blood every time I pee. Every cramp has me terrified that this is the end. Sometimes I’m sure it’s a blighted ovum. I also just learned wtf a molar pregnancy was. WHY DID WE NOT DO GENETIC TESTING?!


Of course there are good moments. Moments where I’m driving to work and for just a second, allow myself to think ahead. Moments where I hold my hand to my stomach and just smile. Husband and I will occasionally talk about the future as if it includes a continuation of this pregnancy. The odds are technically on my side at this point, I’m something like 4 times more likely to have a baby than not. But we all know how I feel about odds and how often I’ve been on the shit end of them. So…I try to take the data with a grain of salt.

I’m really just exhausted all the time at this point. Yesterday I took two naps during the day and was in bed by 9pm. I get bouts of nausea, but haven’t actually gotten sick. On the YAY side though….my boobs? Are looking fabulous! I swear I’ve gone up at least a cup size in the last 2 weeks. Husband poked them the other day and was like good god, woman where did those come from?

So to recap. Crippling anxiety. Very very tentative optimism. AWESOME boobs. Is it Friday yet?

Still in the race.


My beta last Wednesday at 12dp5dt was 977. Today one week later…?


Like…pipe the hell down little peanut. Let’s not be an overachiever here.

I am currently 5 weeks, 3 days. I am officially scheduled for a twat wand session next Friday, the 10th to try to see something resembling a heartbeat. Let’s call that Hurdle 3. I called my husband to tell him about the insanely increasing beta number and he asked when I would stop calling everything a hurdle. I told him not until there is a freaking baby coming out of me.

Side note: Google is the bane of my existence. I am currently living in fear that miscarriage is happening right now and I just don’t know it yet. Infertility has seriously robbed me of optimism and naivety. Most people pee on their stick and assume they are taking a baby home in 9 months. I, on the other hand, assume everything is going to go horribly horribly wrong until proven otherwise. I’m still not convinced IVF actually works for anyone.

Come on Hurdle 3.