gulp. still pregnant.

This morning I went for my second beta and the anxiety was, in a word, catastrophic. C was again working a 30 hour shift in the ICU so I was on my own for the last 24 hours, trying desperately to distract myself and legitimately contemplating whether I could request 24 hours of anesthesia or some other powerful sedative. Hey doc, just wake me when you get the bloodwork back. Seriously[1].

Which is why, after my early morning blood letting, sweaty, panicked and flustered, I drove around aimlessly for a while – there is literally nothing open at 8:45 am on a Sunday, it turns out – before arriving at the grocery store where I proceeded to gaze longingly at the gaggle of toddlers and infants and baby Bjorns that apparently proliferate grocery stores early in the morning walk as slowly as possible through every single aisle pausing to intently consider whether 11 dollar amaranth flour was something I should be incorporating into my diet.

And the grocery store – the check out line to be specific, being asked if I wanted “cash back”– is where I found myself when I got THE CALL. Although I’m certain I blacked out, I seem to have emerged from the store having paid and with groceries in hand, and only six or seven impulse buys[2].

struck out, cycle 3, day 25

When I got home from work, I said to C, “if I’m not pregnant, I just want to know now – it’s the uncertainty that I can’t handle.” It turns out, I’m no better with disappointment. Just a couple hours later, the universe heeded my (dubious) call[1]: I got my period.

Because I am the smartest, I think I knew it was coming – the moodiness, the lower back pain that could not alone be attributed to my tendency to type while sitting in bed rather than at a desk, like a proper adult, the absence of searing gas pains… Or not. Seeing as approximately 45 seconds before it happened, I could be found Googling early signs of pregnancy and how early can I take a pregnancy test and how much is a ferry ride to the Channel Islands[2] – because let me tell you, infertility-amnesia (which is something I made up but is totally a thing) is wonderful. (Like I haven’t memorized just how early I can safely take a pregnancy test before a missed period? Pshaw.)

But I still think I knew. So much so that this morning I briefly daydreamed about throwing a surprise party for Aunt Flo. You know, ovary-shaped-piñata[3], cake, kazoos, the whole deal. C and I – and Luna, much to her consternation – would put on party hats and blow out candles and surprise her, beat her[4] at her own game (or something). By the time I realized I was on THE-CRAZY-TRAIN-TO-INSANE-VILLE, I was already buying crepe paper (blue, if you must know, because red would be too obvious).