It's amazing what I've learnt since I first stepped into a fertility clinic in 2005. On Friday and Saturday just gone, I found myself distinctly a-flutter. On edge. Tense. In times gone past, I would also have felt slightly out of my depth. "How am I going to cope with this rising sense of panic until Tuesday?" I would have asked.

Five years and many test results later, I simply thought, "Of course - it's 3-4 days until the test which will tell me what I am waiting to find out. If I concentrate on breathing for the next 36-48 hours, I'll feel fine again."

I went to work. I came home. I actually got around to putting away the pile of laundry that's been inhabiting the couch for longer than I care to admit. We have a second couch again now! It totally transforms our living room. I did a lot of dishes, I arranged an expedition to the shopping centre for... a single packet of breakfast cereal. I suggested a home movie night, complete with Pixar animation and popcorn, and set off to the rental shop. I shuffled around, packing Mr Bea off on his latest business trip. I breathed. Slowly. Carefully. Deliberately. And tonight, at only t minus 36 hours, I can feel that wave of tension subsiding again - just like I knew it would.

The last twenty-four hours are easy. You just have to learn how to surf there.

So yes, to back up a bit, Mr Bea has gone off on another business trip to a place many time zones away. Yes, this was one of the chief reasons I wanted to get this over with last week, together with the I-have-to-wait-how-long-for-an-answer factor. The whole process would have been a lot easier with his logistical and emotional support, but what can you do? Except get your child up before their natural rising time, drag them to the clinic in their PJ's with a picnic breakfast, and then hope the timing works out so you can catch your husband by phone as your ships kind of pass in the night afterwards? If the result is good, I'm not worried - everything else will just have to work itself out. I don't have a plan B for if the result is not good, but I am toying with the idea of going completely to pieces on my blog. Consider yourself warned, and if you have any other ideas, let me know. Bad scan results with husband out of town is one situation I never really learnt how to cope with.


8 Comments

MrsSpock said...

If you need to go to pieces here, we are all standing at the ready. But hopeful that all will be well!

No Minimom said...

We'll all be here to lend a shoulder to cry happy or sad tears! We're rooting for happy tears!!!

Betty M said...

I have always been too afraid to go to early scans alone or to take the phone calls about betas so I feel for you being alone. I am all digits crossed for an excellent result so there will be no need to go to pieces but here if you do need an outlet.

Vee said...

We will be here with big wide shoulders waiting just in case. But I have everything crossed that you wont need them.

Rachel Inbar said...

You have every reason to believe everything will be fine - I mean, an unmedicated pregnancy is as natural as it gets, in terms of getting the hormones right, etc. Having had both, it seems the pregnancy-by-sex pregnancies are less risky and less complicated. And your betas were awesome...

Wishing you all the best. Keep breathing!!!

p.s. my captcha now is "blesse"...

serenity said...

Only thing that got me through those early days was telling myself that there was no information that lead me to believe it wouldn't work out.

Which, in this case, is actually TRUE. Rachel's right- good betas + spontaneous pregnancy, looked at objectively, probably means good things. So not having a plan B might work out.

And of course we are all here if you do need to go to pieces.

I am hoping that you won't need to.

xxx

Lut C. said...

We're here. I've got no other plans.

My Reality said...

I hope yhere will be no surfing, just smooth sailing.

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