I'm still pregnant and a little bit about me

I awoke this morning at an annoyingly early hour again to pee, but fortunately fell back asleep afterwards. I examined the tp with great care ... not a sign of red, not a sign of spotting or bleeding. Nothing. Yes, my chest looks a bit veiny, but nothing too outstanding, and my boobs don't even hurt. Well, the one does but that's the one with the self-diagnosed intraductal papiloma that I'm not supposed to be squeezing.
Of course, I'm only 14dpo. I don't even believe that the pregnancy calculator even has me at 4 weeks. That page is a godsend, but it also fills me with fear, just reading it, just seeing the different measurements and heartbeats. After all, this past December, we lost our baby at 8 weeks.

Last summer, after using no birth control for 4 years, trying naturally ("seriously") for several months, an uncooperative ob/gyn, a first visit to an RE - Dr Bowtie, whom I didn't like (against ob/gyn's advice, as he wanted us to keep trying on our own for at least a year - I was 38) bloodwork, and a thyroid scan which revealed a nodule, we finally went to see Dr Baby.

After several visits to Dr Baby, much more bloodwork, an HSG and John's sperm analysis which was stellar - in fact, Dr Baby looked at us both and pronounced "well, we pretty much knew the problem wasn't him, didn't we?" (at which point I kicked him hard in the shins), we decided upon a laparoscopy as next course of action. HSG had shown one blocked tube from a previous ectopic many years ago. I was young and stupid then, went off the pill while searching for love in all the wrong places, and ended up pregnant by a really nice*cough*bullshit*cough* guy I was dating. Hmmph. Anyway, it was ectopic and I was told that my tube had been removed. Hey, I was early 20's, what did I understand, know or care?

Dr Baby took a look at the HSG films and looked grave. "You have fluid in your tube. I'm not sure why they told you they removed the tube, they didn't. It's still there, only now it's filled with toxic fluid. We call that "hydrosalpinx" and you have a fairly significant one. This fluid often leaks out and bathes the uterus, causing an inhospitable environment which prevents implantation. I suggest a laparoscopy to close off the tube - it may be all you need". After brief discussion, we agreed and early in October, we did the lap. The tube was too damaged to be fixed, so he just blocked it off. In early November, I found out I was pregnant.

We told everyone - family, friends, work, stepson (who told all the neighbours) and rejoiced. My betas were excellent and doubled well. I drank milk happily, dealt with burgeoning breasts and terrible heartburn. The smell of hazelnut coffee at work was enough to send me running to the bathroom. Dr Baby called this pregnancy a "miracle" and his RN was so happy for us. I cried for joy at the first ultrasound (despite the wand monkey trying to kill me with latex), John beside me and beaming, when Dr Baby pronounced all looked well. We went back two weeks later and immediately I could tell something was wrong.

It started with the wand monkey attempting to put latex inside my body. Again. Now, it may seem like a small thing, but it's written in LARGE RED LETTERS all over my chart that I am allergic to latex. This started a huge kerfuffle between wand monkey and hapless assistant while I'm waiting, half naked on the bed. Eventually Dr Baby enters, and the now latex-free cooter cam now starts its exploration of my depths. We're at 6 1/2-7 weeks and we expect to see the heartbeat and we do. Only it's slow, 90s. I point that out to WM and Dr Baby -but he is focused on something else and turns to us "there is an enlarged yolk sac" he says gravely. "it may resolve on its own, but it doesn't look wonderful. Don't give up hope, though! It may be fine".

I knew better. I let myself hope but I knew better. After all, I still felt pregnant, my boobs were killing, smells were making me crazy ... we went up to Canada to visit family and showed them our little u/s pictures. My father took me aside to remind me that this would be a Jewish baby - he was so excited. My family was delighted for us and we rejoiced, albeit with reservations. John remained more positive than I - something inside me wasn't buying the "it may be fine" shtick.

He was so convinced all would be well, that he let me go to the 8 week ultrasound on my own. On the way, I was chatting with my friend Stacy and I told her ... "I have a bad feeling about this". Stace, who had been there herself tried to reassure me. I promised I'd call her immediately with results. After another latex encounter with the annoying wand monkey, Dr Baby came in and we started. There was no heartbeat. I dressed, numbly and waited for Dr Baby. I called work and told them I wouldn't be in that week and hung up. My friend Stacy called while I was waiting and I vaguely remember telling her. "Shit" she said. "Ah, shit". Dr Baby came in and gently explained options. I told him that I wanted a d&c and I wanted it asap.

I got into the car and called John. He was stunned. Truly stunned, poor man, he really hadn't been thinking of the possibility.

He left work early and we met at home and held each other for a long time. I sleep-walked through that entire week and remember little but for the tidal waves of grief that kept hitting me. And still do at times, if truth be told.

And here we are. Nearly 4 weeks now and the fear is so palpable, I can taste it. Like blood in my mouth, coppery and shiny and metalic with nowhere to hold on to, and no assurances.