Thank you all for your enthusiastic responses to my last post. I am thrilled/terrified/excited.
Sea and I were going to a friend’s birthday lunch on the afternoon of the first pregnancy test. We had agreed that I wouldn’t answer my phone or check my messages during the lunch, knowing that I would be likely to show some reaction either way. Then, 15 minutes before the lunch, we were shopping for a card in the small trendy store across the street– the type of store that sells quirky mugs, grass scented perfume and an endless collection of Anne Taintor paraphernalia– when my phone rang. Automatically, I answered it.
The Clinic One nurse asked for me using the combination of first and middle name that I hate, asked how I was and told me she was calling with good news: “Your beta is 155.” I became suddenly aware of how small the trendy store was as I tried to keep my voice from becoming shrieky as I asked, “Isn’t that high?!” She simply told me that I would have to ask Dr. Text about the numbers, and that I should keep taking my progesterone and return for a repeat beta on Tuesday. Stunned, Sea and I walked small circles around the store, noticing that it suddenly seemed packed with baby gifts and cards. It was 13 days past ovulation.
Today I went in for a repeat beta. I repeated the holy water routine before my blood draw, then went to my office to wait and attempt to work. Finally Clinic One called, and a friendly nurse told me that my beta was now 536. I’ve been obsessed with pregnancy and babies for long enough to know vague HCG ranges and doubling times. I know the 48 hour rule. 536 didn’t fit that rule. I repeated Sunday’s question, less concerned about being shrieky in my empty office with its closed door: “Isn’t that high?!” I could hear her smiling as she responded, “Well, do you want twins?”
I stumbled and told her what I’ll tell you now: we’ll take what we get.
Next test is on Saturday.