This isn’t the post I wanted to be writing. I was hoping to be able to share the happy news that my wife is pregnant. Technically, she is — but something’s not right.
Amazingly, her first try was successful, and we got a positive (albeit very faint) pregnancy reading last month. Neither of us really believed it, so she took seven more tests over the next few days. All of them read positive and gradually got darker and darker.
Oh my God. Sara’s pregnant.
The joy was instant. I think both of us expected that getting her pregnant would take some time. We’d been through hell and back with me, hurdle after hurdle, disappointment after disappointment. We expected this to be a tough road. At least, we didn’t expect it to be first-try-successful easy.
You know what they say about things being too good to be true …
We had our first ultrasound yesterday. There was no heartbeat, no embryo. Just a yolk sac and an embryonic sac. Its measurements were consistent with five and a half weeks, not nine — which is what was calculated based on her last period. But we know exactly when the sperm entered her, so we have a fairly accurate conception date, which is six weeks.
The ultrasound tech, to be honest, was awful. I know they’re not supposed to “diagnose” and we didn’t expect her to, but she was barely capable of even answering our questions. And, as our luck would have it, no doctor was available to speak with us.
So we left the appointment confused and scared. We went home and did what no one should ever do in these situations: we Googled.
Just a yolk sac at nine weeks isn’t good. Just a yolk sac at six weeks isn’t that great either, but seeing a heartbeat on an ultrasound a few weeks later and going on to have a healthy baby is not unheard of.
But we had to wait. Wait until the next day to hear from our doctor. Wait to see if maybe her dates are off because of conception. Wait to see if there’s any hope at all.
I can’t give up hope. This can’t be happening. Again. This can’t be happening to my wife. We can’t — we shouldn’t — both know what it’s like for your body to lose a pregnancy.
Are we cursed? How can this be? How can this be our story — again?!
The night brought the tears. My heart sank as I apologized to my wife. I feel like I did this to her. She’s in this position because my body won’t get pregnant. My tears fell heavier as she apologized to me for not making my dream come true. We sat there hugging each other and blaming ourselves.
We barely slept. Is a miscarriage on its way? Maybe the ultrasound tech was inexperienced? Are we foolish to hold onto any ounce of hope? Why did they schedule our ultrasound on a day when there’s no doctor around?
Everything has been going so great until now!
When the doctor finally called us the next day, she didn’t have much information. The ultrasound findings are consistent with a five and a half week pregnancy. Yes, our conception date puts us roughly at that point, but there’s still concern that there’s no fetal pole or heartbeat — though it’s not uncommon for neither to be present at five and a half weeks. And we’re really only five and a half weeks based on conception, not her last period. There’s no telling which is more accurate. It’s different in every case.
So we’ve been told to wait two weeks until our next ultrasound, and that we might see something more then. But we were also told we might miscarry before then, depending on which date is accurate — and there’s no way to know until the next ultrasound, or until there’s a miscarriage.
And so we wait.