So as you know, last Friday I found out I was pregnant. Cue disbelief! Also, even more aggressive symptom watching. The thing is, pregnancy symptoms are far easier to spot, as they’re massively obviously and mainly gross. This week (4 weeks pregnant, going on 5), I have had the following:
Sore, sore SORE boobs (oh my god get away from them!). I’ve had to go and buy some crop tops and supportive singlets, as I can’t stand to wear my bras at the moment. Ouch.
Gas. Oh my, the gas! I knew I was cooking a bun in my oven, I did not realize it was a gas oven. With rather large leaks. Not my sexiest feature at present.
Forgetfulness. There was something I was going to write about this…hmmm…maybe I left that idea…somewhere? My brain is not performing at optimum capacity at the moment, but seeing as I’m apparently growing another brain as well, I’ll let it slide. You got off easy this time, me.
The big one: fatigue. How I would love to sleep for a week! I seem to be dragging myself through each day at the moment. Drag self out of bed. Drag into shower. Drag onto train. Drag into work. Repeat, hopefully in reverse order.
The symptoms have been a pain, however they’ve also been a reminder of what’s currently going on in my body, which is quite nice really. It’s a lovely little hint that it’s all worth it, that there’s something kind of amazing happening. At the start of this week, I booked in to see the doctor to confirm the pregnancy. Of course, I wasn’t able to get in until today (Friday). So all week, I’ve been counting down to the moment where the doctor makes it official. I flew out of work this afternoon, and was bouncing in my seat waiting to be called in. I even practiced what I was going to say:
Doc: what can I do for you today?
Me: well, according to the stick I peed on, I’m pregnant.
Zing, right? Nailed it.
He said all the usual things. Then asked me if I’d like a blood or urine test to confirm. As I’d been holding my pee all afternoon, I (almost) shouted “both!”. So off I went to pee in a cup, returning proudly with my yellow gift. He busied himself for a minute or so, dropped the pee onto the stick, waited , oooh, about 30 seconds, looked at the stick and said…
“I’m not convinced that’s a positive.”
Right. He then showed me the stick, and asked me if I could see a line. It was there, and yes it was very faint, however (hh hmm): it was afternoon pee, not first morning, it was a shitty test that I know is less sensitive than the ones I’ve been using (early response, for those detail hungry readers), and I’m sure every test I’ve used has asked to wait for 3 minutes. As you can imagine, I was somewhat devastated. This had been what I had been waiting for all week, and it was not what I wanted to hear. I showed him a picture I’d taken of my last test – a very strong positive from Tuesday, and he seemed more open to the idea. He took blood, while my husband looked again at the (now MUCH darker) second line on the test. He’s promised me that he’ll call tomorrow morning with the results, and “if” it’s positive he’ll get the ball rolling straight away.
So obviously I went straight to the chemist and bought more preggo tests, got home and squeezed a little more pee into a cup to test again (sorry. It’s not going to get any better, either). I waited the 3 minutes, and my result?
Definitely still pregnant. Unless the quality brand I’ve been buying and using for the last week (all eleventy-billion of them) is faulty. Each and every one of them.
So tonight I’ve been ranting and raving for most of the evening (lucky husband!), while swinging smoothly from happy at the most recent test, to angry at the doctor, to bawling at the thought of not being pregnant. Totally normal and balanced.
I had to get all of that out, as it’s swimming around my (somewhat fuzzy) head at the moment. Now the waiting game starts again until tomorrow morning, when I’ll be phone watching like a lovesick teenager, waiting for what I am convinced has to be the good news.
Please, please, please HCG levels, be high.