The One That Wouldn't End

July 14th, 2007.


Ten days after my positive pregnancy test, I started bleeding and found out that pregnancy #4 was not going to stick. What I didn't know that day was that it was the beginning of the pregnancy that wouldn't end.

It was the first time I got pregnant after losing my left tube. It was the second round of Clomid, and I was ecstatic that I was able to get pregnant again. My happiness was short lived, as my 1st beta came in low at 26, and the follow up beta came in at 14, along with some spotting.

I was slated to fly to South Carolina with Miss O for a few days at the beach with family and my doctor thought that was just what I needed. So, I had a third beta pulled before heading south, with instructions to call for my results the following day. "I'm sure it will be under five this time.", Dr. M. said as he left the office.

I waited until I was laying in the sun with my toes in the sand before calling in the next day for my results. Imagine my shock when the nurse said, "Thirty-eight. Your beta came in at thirty-eight." I must have asked her five times if she had the right results. She said to come in when I arrived home for a repeat beta.
Over the next five days, my emotions went up and down, and the spotting came and went almost in rhythm with them.

One week later after another beta draw, I got a call from Dr. M's office. It's never good when they call and say, how soon can you be here? So, I rushed in, had the pleasure of an trans vaginal ultrasound that didn't help the doc figure anything out. "Your beta is sixty-four. Obviously, as you saw in the ultrasound, this is not a viable pregnancy."

An hour later I found myself in the local Cancer Center, getting a anti-nausea drug through an IV, waiting to receive shots of Methotrexate, to end the pregnancy, just in case it was in my remaining tube. I thought I was going to hyperventilate. I hadn't been in a chemotherapy room for over three years...my Mom fought a courageous battle with Ovarian Cancer. Every Monday, for three years I was her "chemo buddy"...I brought café mocha's, magazines and settled in to keep her company for the three hour long therapy she had to endure. I never thought that I would be sitting in one myself, at least not at 31 years old...especially not to end a pregnancy they couldn't locate.

It took another three weeks, and three blood draws to get a negative beta.