After yesterday's normal beta, I was pretty much walking on air for the rest of the day.
What an odd sensation to have a good phone call about a pregnancy. There were no "buts" at all. She actually said "Congratulations!" at the end of the call. Surreal.
If I wasn't as graceful as a drunk rhino, I think I'd have been spinning in pirouettes yesterday. I was smiling- happy, even.
Today, the anxiety is creeping in. I keep playing possibilities in my head. I repeat the beta next Friday. What if it's bad? Then I correct myself - it will be good, damn it. But what if it's not? Can I handle this again?
Tonight, I had a bit of a break down.
David and I went to see Charlie Wilson's War (very good, btw) and on the way home, he was being sweet and cute and said "How's the embryo?" I snapped back out of nowhere, "I don't know, and I won't know for a long time. Can we just not talk about it?"
He was obviously stunned, "Why not?"
I told him that I'm trying not to think about it as much as possible. I don't have any answers, I'm not going to have any answers for a long time.
He was hurt and snapped back "So when I don't talk about it, I'm wrong, but when I do, I'm still wrong?"
I just started sobbing. I explained that him asking me how the baby was makes me feel like I should KNOW if the baby is okay. And I don't. I can't. No matter what I do, I can't. That what I really think is "Well, I'm not bleeding yet." and that's an ugly answer.
I told him I was sorry, but I am just scared to death.
He softened then, "I know." He said that all I had to say was that the numbers are good. I told him he already knew that and nothing had changed. If anything happens, I'll let him know. But that for now, I don't freaking know. I'm not in control, and I don't know anything. I started blabbering about how he gets to check in once a day, but I'm the one whose heart races every time I go to the bathroom because I'm so scared there is going to be blood.
He didn't talk for a long time. I was on a roll. I told him that I didn't know if my body was killing our baby as we speak.
By then, we were home and coming in the house. I went to the bedroom to change right away and he just followed me, sort of gaping. I'm not sure he was fully prepared for the depths of my emotions.
As I started talking about how I'm scared to let him down again, he looked shocked and said "I've never blamed you for the miscarriages." I just cried and said "I know. I've done plenty of that for both of us."
He gave me a lecture then about how I've done everything I could and it's not in our hands. That getting pregnant is a risk, no matter what. There's no way around it.
I finally stopped crying and apologized for snapping at him. He asked if I was okay. All I could say was "I guess." Talk to me in 36 weeks. I might be okay then.