Off the ride, at least.

I don’t even know where to begin. Perhaps I’ll start at the end, which is today. Today is the end of a seven-week pregnancy. Today is the end of my only natural pregnancy where a heartbeat was seen. In a few hours I will take misoprostol in the hopes of passing this pregnancy on my own, without a surgical procedure.

I am prepared. Preparing for it makes me feel calmer. Here’s the plan I’ve devised: I’ll have a light, nutritious lunch at 12:30. Chicken, kale and lentils. With lunch, I will take my last prenatal vitamin. At 2, I will take a full dose of Tylenol. At 3, I will insert the four tablets close to my cervix, put an overnight pad on and take to my bed. I will watch a movie and wait for the pain.

It could take a while, or it might not be long at all. Under my bottom, will be a waterproof pad from the hospital. Next to the bed will be a heating pad, a full water bottle, Tylenol #3 (the heavy stuff, should I need it), and waiting for me in the fridge is juice and coconut water to drink once the heavy bleeding kicks in, to keep my blood sugar up and keep me hydrated. I hope the worst will pass before I’m ready to sleep. DH will sent a few alarms to wake up and check on me in the night, if I’m not up frequently anyways. I will try to collect any remnants if possible for testing. This may be difficult to identify. It is okay if I’m not able to collect anything.

That is the plan. It’s a good plan. I take comfort in the plan.

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Here is the beginning. Let me get this down. For my own record, if nothing else. Ready to take a roller coaster ride?

On June 26th, at 12 dpo, I took a HPT. I had a hunch. We are semi-passively trying naturally for a second baby for an undetermined period of time. Probably a long time. Possibly forever.

It was beautifully positive. Beta that day was 58. Two days later at 4 weeks exactly, it was up to 181. Beautiful. Encouraging. Progesterone was 24.4. Is this real life? For the next four days I will marvel at how I’m not spotting. I always spot when I’m pregnant.

4 weeks 4 days (18dpo), a small gush of bright red blood. Cue crying. Cue “of course.” Cue blood test. Beta: 1,987. What? Begin spotting regularly now, mostly brown blood.

5 weeks, 1 day. Gush of blood with a thumb-sized clot.

5 weeks, 2 days. Ultrasound. Weird, emptyish sac barely seen in uterus. Concern of second ectopic in last remaining tube. Beta, 19,382. Breathe?

5 weeks, 3 days. Repeat ultrasound with radiologist. Normal sac seen in uterus, with yolk sac, with embryo. WITH HEARTBEAT. HB = 104 bpm. Cue relief. Enter real hope.

5 weeks, 5 days. Another bleed. More small clots.

6 weeks, 1 day. MAJOR bleed. Golf ball clots.

6 weeks, 2 days. Repeat ultrasound with radiologist. Heartbeat seen immediately. Up to 120 bpm. Embryo growing appropriately. Bleeding in uterus also seen. More relief, more hope.

6 weeks, 2 days eve. Small bleed with clot. Keeping the faith.

7 weeks, 1 day. Another large bleed with palm-sized clots. Faith wavers.

7 weeks, 3 days. Repeat ultrasound. No heartbeat found. Embryo appears to have stopped growing 3 or 4 days prior. Fifth loss, third miscarriage. Blighted ovum, chemical, vanishing twin, ectopic, now this.

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Why am I writing this? I don’t know, I just need to. It’s not for sympathy. I have plenty and while the acknowledgement is nice, what I know is that this is what trying to make a baby means for us. It means the roller coaster. It means the very real possibility of loss every single time. I really have accepted it.

But, I’ve never lost a pregnancy where a heartbeat was seen. So that does feel like new emotional territory. I’ve never taken misoprostol. So that will be new too. My cynical side has so much sarcasm to spew but I’m keeping it at bay. It’s a ruse, anyways.

The only way out of all this, for us, is to decide we are done building our family, and we’re not ready to do that. So, on we go.