Since my last blog post, I’ve been back to the fertility clinic for two scans. The first was a planned appointment – the doctors wanted to see what my hormone levels were, and whether anything was visible on ultrasound, a week on. I was bleeding at the time which made matters, erm, messy. 😛 The doctor still couldn’t see a sac, and he thought my womb and ovaries looked as though they were returning to a pre-pregnancy state, so we hoped the bleed might be a sign that things were resolving naturally – but then my hCG came back slightly higher than before. I knew it might well have risen a lot earlier in the week, then fallen when I started to bleed, but I didn’t dare believe this. Rule number one of fertility treatment: never get your hopes up (even when all you’re hoping for is that your miscarriage / ?ectopic pregnancy doesn’t drag out for another six weeks).
The second scan was on Tuesday, because I was starting to get some pain in my side. The pain itself wasn’t that bad – I didn’t even take paracetamol for it – but in the context it was freaking me out. What if I need surgery? What if I have to take methotrexate? Aargh! Luckily, the ultrasound and examination didn’t show anything untoward, and when I had yet more blood tests, the hCG had finally come down from around 320 to around 260. My case was discussed at the weekly team meeting, and they’ve decided they’re not too concerned, and unless I have any more symptoms I don’t need to come back until a week on Tuesday.
So, it looks as though the pregnancy is finally resolving. And with that comes a whole new set of emotions, because although I didn’t want them to have to intervene, a natural end is only the best of a very bad bunch of options. I have lost the baby. Our child is dead. I am free to grieve as I wanted, and f*ck, it’s painful. (And whatever the doctors think, I can’t totally rule out the possibility that in nine days time my hormone levels will have gone up again, because throughout this whole process, nothing has ever happened the way I expected. It’s been a real ordeal.)
I have to say that the clinic have been brilliant. Especially after the first few weeks, when it became apparent this wasn’t a ‘normal’ early miscarriage, they’ve been very understanding and supportive. I really appreciate the doctor who validated my view that I was pregnant, that this does count. And my consultant coming up to me after church (we know each other personally) to ask how I was coping and say how sorry she was. 🙂 It could not be more different from my experience of NHS mental health services, but maybe that’s a topic for another post.
My OH and I also really appreciate every single one of you who has commented on my blog, Twitter or Facebook or shown your support in other ways. It really helps us to know that people are thinking of us or praying for us – especially as there have been times over the past few weeks when I haven’t felt able to pray myself. This is the first time I have experienced a trauma or tragedy that isn’t someone else’s fault, and it has been hard to trust God. Struggling with my faith in the context of a miscarriage… I think that’s also a subject for another post, but thank you all. 😀