After I was done with the mess of the first miscarriage, husband and I wanted to get slightly more intense with this whole getting pregnant thing. That brought me to charting temperatures and taking ovulation tests.
A month passed and we were approaching the last few weeks of school. My summer classes for my Master's program had started which meant sitting through 2 1/2 hours of class every day after teaching. I had also applied and been hired for a new teaching position along with my favorite teacher friend so I was also busy packing up my classroom.
I took my first ovulation test. Positive. Sweet! Then because I'm just a curious person, I took one the next day and the day after that and I kept taking them for a week, continually coming up with positives. Upon completing research, I learned that I was in a weird circumstance. I shouldn't have so many positives. I also learned that ovulation tests can pick up hcg hormone.
The day after school got out, I stayed in bed after husband got up. I was having an internal struggle, trying to decide whether or not to take a pregnancy test. I heard the husband start up the lawnmower and knew I would not be interrupted for a while so I took one.
Positive.
Seriously? I was just pregnant. This was just about the earliest I could become pregnant following the nasty miscarriage. I couldn't believe it. Disbelief quickly turned into fear. What if I miscarried again? I couldn't go through that harrowing experience so soon. Also, what would the husband think if we both got excited only to be broken hearted again? I seriously considered keeping my husband in the dark until I had proof from an ultrasound image. I didn't want him to have to deal with the frustrating emotions.
Don't worry, guys. I told him. He came in the back door after mowing and we both got excited. Correction: he was excited. I was a mixture of unsure and doubt and fear. I couldn't get excited. I did not believe it.
That afternoon, I was a teeter-totter of emotions. I went from regretting choices I had made the past couple of weeks (I can't believe I carried lots of heavy furniture! Why did I eat that unhealthy food?) to fear (I'm just going to miscarry).
That evening, husband and I headed out for some frisbee golf, but before we left, I noticed some bleeding. Needless to say, I was slightly grumpy and not really into the frisbee throwing.
We returned home to lots of bleeding. At that point, I knew it was gone. Husband asked if I wanted to go to the ER or call the after-hours doctor. I reminded him that if I was miscarrying, there was nothing to be done. They would pat me on my back, give their condolences, and send us a hefty bill.
My baby sister came by with her then-boyfriend and I tried to be distracted by them. We probably played a game and had a dessert because that's what we do. I think I told her about my dilemma and she would have hugged me with sorrow in her eyes.
Sunday slowly marched by and Monday finally arrived. We eventually made it to the doctor who sent us in for lab work. (I'm such a pro at this now.) Two days later with the blood draw repeated, the call came. I wasn't surprised. Besides, I had already started grieving. I went to my class, slightly zoned out and went on with life.
A month passed and we were approaching the last few weeks of school. My summer classes for my Master's program had started which meant sitting through 2 1/2 hours of class every day after teaching. I had also applied and been hired for a new teaching position along with my favorite teacher friend so I was also busy packing up my classroom.
I took my first ovulation test. Positive. Sweet! Then because I'm just a curious person, I took one the next day and the day after that and I kept taking them for a week, continually coming up with positives. Upon completing research, I learned that I was in a weird circumstance. I shouldn't have so many positives. I also learned that ovulation tests can pick up hcg hormone.
The day after school got out, I stayed in bed after husband got up. I was having an internal struggle, trying to decide whether or not to take a pregnancy test. I heard the husband start up the lawnmower and knew I would not be interrupted for a while so I took one.
Positive.
Seriously? I was just pregnant. This was just about the earliest I could become pregnant following the nasty miscarriage. I couldn't believe it. Disbelief quickly turned into fear. What if I miscarried again? I couldn't go through that harrowing experience so soon. Also, what would the husband think if we both got excited only to be broken hearted again? I seriously considered keeping my husband in the dark until I had proof from an ultrasound image. I didn't want him to have to deal with the frustrating emotions.
Don't worry, guys. I told him. He came in the back door after mowing and we both got excited. Correction: he was excited. I was a mixture of unsure and doubt and fear. I couldn't get excited. I did not believe it.
That afternoon, I was a teeter-totter of emotions. I went from regretting choices I had made the past couple of weeks (I can't believe I carried lots of heavy furniture! Why did I eat that unhealthy food?) to fear (I'm just going to miscarry).
That evening, husband and I headed out for some frisbee golf, but before we left, I noticed some bleeding. Needless to say, I was slightly grumpy and not really into the frisbee throwing.
We returned home to lots of bleeding. At that point, I knew it was gone. Husband asked if I wanted to go to the ER or call the after-hours doctor. I reminded him that if I was miscarrying, there was nothing to be done. They would pat me on my back, give their condolences, and send us a hefty bill.
My baby sister came by with her then-boyfriend and I tried to be distracted by them. We probably played a game and had a dessert because that's what we do. I think I told her about my dilemma and she would have hugged me with sorrow in her eyes.
Sunday slowly marched by and Monday finally arrived. We eventually made it to the doctor who sent us in for lab work. (I'm such a pro at this now.) Two days later with the blood draw repeated, the call came. I wasn't surprised. Besides, I had already started grieving. I went to my class, slightly zoned out and went on with life.
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