Not sure if anyone is reading this yet, so if you are, here is what happened today. But to explain that, I have to go back to some time about 6 weeks ago. Or, to be a little too specific, maybe 8.
I got a positive test on a saturday morning. This is a year, almost to the day, of my last (and first) positive test, which happened after the World's Longest Stim, followed by a cancellation, then another stim on quite a bit of drug. It turned out to be a chemical. Followed by another IUI, which was a negative, and we were referred to IVF. We weren't ready. So instead, I decided to go on a break (read: on the pill, off metformin, prenatals, baby aspirin, charting, CM checking, and general daily obsessing). This break was heavenly, normal cycles, predictable periods, only a little spotting here and there.
So, we decided, hey, why not tempt fate? And I stopped pills. No met. First cycle was a wonderous 30 days. But nothing. The next, exactly 7 days longer (which was my pattern before the IUI's. Kind of weird, no?) And then, a positive test. Yeah, I was in shock. I mean, ON OUR OWN? Kind of crazy.
But the inital betas were kind of low, even though they were doubling. So I tried my hardest to remain optomistic. We went in for the first scan, and lo and behold, there was a sac with something inside. And the sac was measuring about a week behind. The baby, fetus, embryo, whatever you call it that early (I prefer baby) was on track. Just the tinest flutter of a heartbeat had begun. My husband was over the moon. He was sure it was going to work.
I, in all my realistic pessimism, was not.
And as much as I love being right, I did not want to be about this. We went today, 2 weeks from the last, and the baby hadn't grown. I think it might have even been a little smaller. The sac was way, way, behind. And no heartbeat.
And so here we are, staring down the monster again. Yuck.