I feel kind of sorry for people who work at fertility clinics. Kind of. I mean, they have to deal with people like us. Okay, okay, I won't drag you into this. They have to deal with people like me.
People who have been ttc for a long time. Who obsessed during every 2ww. Hell, back during the sex-to-make-baby days the whole month was nothing more than two distinct 2ww's! Wait for AF and wait to try again. They have to deal with people like me who research every relevant symptom, hormone level, medication and procedure per Dr. Google. People who have put their heart on the line more than once, just to have it ripped out. People who are told they will have to wait 6 weeks (or for some, 6 months or a year) before they will be able to get the ball rolling. People who have been stripped of their pants, skirts, undies and dignity time and time again as they "assume the position" without even being asked anymore. People who spend a lot of money but who are constantly at the mercy of others - doctors, RE's, nurses, lab people, donors, etc. People like me who want answers and who are tired of waiting for what has already seemed like an eternity.
You know, all of this has turned me into a driven, pointed, let's-drop-the-niceties-and-get-down-to-it kind of gal. I mean, why waste time beating around the bush? I still try to be polite. I say "please" and "thank you." I smile. But inside I'm thinking, "Just do what I want, NOW!" And I have no qualms about asking for what I want.
Last week I received two wonderful beta values. 194 & 559. What more could a girl want?
Something. Yeah, I want something.
You can't just say, "Congratulations, you're pregnant, here are your values, now go away and hang tight for two weeks." Whaddya mean hang tight for 2 weeks? Yeah, okay, I still pop a couple of pills (vitamins and aspirin), I insert progesterone suppositories 4 times a day (no big whoop anymore) and my DH gives me a shot of Delestrogen twice a week. But I'm addicted now! You strung me along on U/S's and blood draws. You fed me a regular diet of medication increases, decreases and modifications. You teased and tickled and drew me in with all of this and then culminated our intimate relationship by inserting a catheter full of embryos into my most private nether regions!
But now, like the morning after a one night stand, you won't really look me in the eye and seem to not want me to call you anymore. You haven't called either. I miss chatting about all our plans. I miss being at your command, doing whatever it is you asked. I need you!
So, like the monster you created, I came calling. You told me that after 2 good betas, you don't normally do more testing until the U/S (mine is scheduled for the 30th). I wouldn't stand for it. Using my best "please," I asked if you wouldn't mind ordering me another beta this week. You know, some peace of mind. Cantcha give a sister a break here? I'm like the addict just starting to go through withdrawal and begging for just one more fix.
She caved. "Fine. I'll order it," she said, "although it won't tell us anything." I greedily accepted. I went for the blood draw this morning. Finally, late this afternoon, she called with the result, told me the number flatly, and reminded me that "it doesn't give us any additional information."
I gushed a thank you and hung up, clutching my fix.
Today's beta (20dp3dt) is 7,664.
If the numbers merely doubled every 48 hours, I was hoping for a beta of 4,472. So, okay, maybe it doesn't tell me that there will be a heart beat, or that I won't miscarry, or that my baby will have freckles. But it tells me that for today, I am still pregnant. That's something.
The monster will now kindly leave the clinic alone (for a while).
4 weeks ago