I retook a pregnancy test today, hoping to see “not pregnant” so I could stop taking the drugs and let my body finish what it began on Sunday.
And drink wine tonight.
I’ve been in a lot of pain and lost a lot of blood over the last 5 days. I just want it done.
But the test said “Pregnant 2-3 weeks”.
This is one week more than this time last week – basically, what you’d expect to see if you were actually pregnant.
The urine was slightly *less* concentrated too – a 5 hour sample compared with last week’s 7 hour sample.
But it is not uncommon for hCG, (the hormone all pregnancy tests measure), to stick around in a mother’s body for up to 2 weeks after a miscarriage, even at such an early stage. I was prepared, on this account, to see “pregnant”. I was not prepared for the level of hCG to be higher.
I called the clinic.
“It’s positive?! That’s good news!”
“Is it? Is it *really* though? (Hormone sticks around etc…) – I’m losing so much blood. I’m in so much pain. *Surely* it’s gone?”
“Well, it could be, but we see ladies bleeding all through pregnancy.”
“With severe cramping?”
I could have done without this exchange. I have spent all day since wondering if maybe, just maybe….? Today I have been in quite a lot of pain too, which makes it all seem even more ridiculous.
In the end I emailed our lovely consultant to explain the situation and ask for his advice. I emailed him a few days ago about stopping the drugs, and he encouraged me to carry on until a negative test result, but to keep him informed. He is incredibly sympathetic to our situation and such a credit to his profession. If only all doctors were even half as empathic…
Today he asked me to take another test on Monday morning, and if still positive, to head to EPAC (Early Pregnancy Assessment Clinic) where he will scan me himself at a prearranged time, hence skipping the awful race-to-be-first-ness the whole clinic is based around.
I feel relieved that I’ll get to see him. He’s so lovely. And he knows us.
In the meantime I will put a pin in drinking wine and eating my bodyweight in sugar, and try to pretend that I’m not secretly hoping it has worked despite the mountain of evidence to the contrary.
And we are preparing to grieve the loss of this embryo for a third time, on Monday.