Knock Me Up

Today I had my third blood test: hCG levels are at 1631. The nurse says this is very good. Next week (week 6) I have my first ultrasound to see how many there are. How many? I forgot about that part. And the week after that, we schedule a second ultrasound in order to see or hear the heartbeat. I think it will be too early to “hear” anything, and I can’t remember what the nurse told me because usually when I get the afternoon call my heart is in my throat and I am just so relieved to have good news that all the other information seems inconsequential. I carry a notepad and pen with me when I take the call, but my scribblings are illegible: random numbers etched in the corners of the page, dates and times with arrows pointing up and down. What the hell does this mean? I have to go on memory, and end up calling them back to confirm my next appointment.

So, yes, good news. But the up and down hopes and fears continue. Silly me. I thought I’d have some peace of mind when we reached this point. But there are still so many hurdles to clear. The cycle goes like this: mounting anxiety as a test day approaches; relief upon hearing good results; about an hour of happiness and optimism; then slowly the anxiety starts to build up as the thought of the next test looms ahead.

This whole week 5 status feels very nebulous. It’s an in-between state. The nurses are congratulatory and happy, but it’s not like I’m really pregnant yet. No formal instructions are given. “Don’t eat raw fish” is all they’ve told me. When I asked for more information on what I should or shouldn’t be eating, drinking, etc., the nurse looked at me slightly cock-eyed and said, “We don’t get into that here.” I took it partly to mean, honey, we knocked you up and our job is to lock it in and send you packing. “Your OB will give you a list,” she said. I suppose if I had one lined up, I could ask her or him, but I don’t. I wasn’t thinking that far ahead.