"Edited to Add"....

This started as a pregnancy blog when I fell pregnant in May 2009 after four years of finding a donor, doing all the counselling / paperwork / tests and trying.

And now, thanks to a 4WD which skidded onto our side of the road, killing our baby daughter at 34w and injuring me, my partner and two of my stepdaughters on 27 December 2009, it has turned into something else. We didn't want this something else, but apparently it is all we've got to go on with.

Sunday, February 27, 2011

My zen ran out last night

and now I'm just so impatient to know what is happening. I had fretful dreams of dodgy hotel rooms where one room connected to another and another and another. I kept waking up, thinking it was time to get up and go in for my blood test, even though it was 3, 4, 5am.

I think a little bit of hope has got under my skin, and with it, the fear that it will be dashed. In some way, I'm terrified that there might actually be a little speck of potential to mourn if the news is bad, and that that mourning may go beyond the sorrow I've already felt with the negative test and the bleeding, not to mention all our sorrow for Z. I've been ambivalent reading these lovely stories of tiny betas turning into beautiful babies, because I'm so scared my story won't work out like that. But there is a tiny potential that it will, and I want to treasure it while it exists.

In a few hours, I'll know a little bit more. If the numbers go up again, I think they'd like me to have a scan towards the end of the week when whatever-this-is might be visible, so that can see if it is in the right spot. And if they go down, probably just more blood tests until the level drops below 2. Thanks for being here on the rollercoaster with me xxxxh


  1. What a start to the day - those sorts of tedious waiting/expectant dreams are terrible. Hope the rest of the time passes quickly, I have many fingers crossed for you, and I will see you tonight.

  2. Hoping right along with you for your lovely story of a tiny beta turning into a beautiful baby. Sending you hugs and comfort as you go through this difficult experience. xx

  3. Right next to you, holding your (virtual) hand. Hoping the time passes quickly until your appointment.