After the embryo transfer on March 30, Arthur and I had talked a bit about the future. We were happy we’d made it to transfer, but we knew it was a long shot that we’d get a pregnancy out of the cycle. We decided that we’d plan to follow up with Dr. E early in June and talk about a late July or early August fresh IVF cycle. Both of us were pleased with that, and went back mostly to living life (sans caffeine until beta day).
On Friday as I was getting ready for bed, I noticed that I was having just a tiny bit of spotting. I had a few moments of fantasizing about implantation bleeding, then got sad. I reminded myself that we would move on, and just to watch, wait, and see what happened. When the spotting got heavier on Saturday, and then even more pronounced on Sunday, I started thinking about what I wanted to do with my free two months.
I was starting to look forward to the break. I wanted to lose a few more pounds. Train up to a half-marathon distance with my running. Concentrate on work. Not think about infertility.
On Monday, when the spotting was continuing to increase, I called the RE’s office and asked if I could do my beta hcg test on Wednesday. That, I figured, was the equivalent of 15 days post-ovulation in IVF terms, and I had done my last IVF beta effectively 14 days post-ovulation. Between that and the spotting, I was pretty darned sure I was definitely not pregnant. The RE’s office agreed and we set up a time for me to have my beta drawn on Wednesday just to make sure.
Tuesday morning, I got out of bed. Blood trickled down the inside of my leg. I yelped and waddled to the bathroom. It was like a flashback to being 13, not knowing when my cycles would start, and getting an unpleasant surprise. I noticed it didn’t continue to bleed that heavily throughout the day, lots of even more spotting than Monday – although not quite a full period – but figured it wasn’t a big deal. My cycles have been so messed up that what I was seeing really wasn’t all that different from my usual.
Today, I waltzed into the RE’s office. I knew Dr. E was out and wouldn’t be able to call with results, so it would be one of the nurses, but I wasn’t worried at all. I airily told the nurse drawing my blood that I was quite sure it was negative and explained the bleeding I’d had Tuesday. I was still having heavy spotting. “Just leave a message on my cell phone if it’s negative,” I said. As an afterthought, I added: “I guess the only reason you’d need to call me at work is if there’s something strange about the beta.”
I went to work. I got busy. One of my co-workers told me I had a phone call. Since I was expecting a return call that was work-related, I didn’t think anything of it when I picked up the receiver.
It was, of course, the RE’s office. My beta was 22.
It is one of those indeterminate betas where something is going on, but with the bleeding and the low number, unlikely to be a viable pregnancy. The question now is what exactly is happening. Chemical? Ectopic? Very low beta with weird implantation bleeding? No way to know until another hcg level gets checked.
The thing is, I’d give up almost anything for a viable pregnancy. This just feels like one more rather nasty trick my body is playing on me to draw out the agony, because of course, I can’t help myself hoping against hope that I’ll get to be one of those “no way!” stories. And yet, I know the odds are hugely against it at this point. I’m still spotting quite a bit, but now it upsets me every time I see it.
I get to have another beta drawn Monday. All I can hope is that it either skyrockets or drops dramatically.
Apparently, against all conventional wisdom, it is possible to be “a little pregnant”.