So I started the Clomid. I remember saying a prayer when I took the first pill. I prayed it would be our answer. I prayed it would work quickly.

And I got pregnant. Honestly, I wasn't optimistic the entire cycle. Even well into the 2ww I didn't suspect it had worked. About 10DPO I felt so tired I took a 3 hour afternoon nap. I wondered but still didn't believe it. I had a few more symptoms appear that evening and the next day repeated my long nap. So at 12DPO I decided to find out. Sure enough it was positive. The first test I took was so faint. But the digital test said positive. At first I was beyond thrilled, but by later that day the fear began to creep in. It was Saturday so I had to wait until Monday to get blood work done. That meant waiting until Tuesday to get an answer.

I prayed. I took more tests to see if they were darker. It was hard to tell but they looked a little darker. I prayed some more. Tuesday brought good news - Beta 66 and Progestrone 63.5. Wow. The Clomid seemed to have worked. The Beta was a little low, but nothing to worry about. It was still early. The next week it had doubled appropriately, and then again the next week. The numbers were on the low side, but the doctor said all was good. He put me on Prometrium (progestrone pills) because my levels, while high, were fluctating.

The fear never really left but I was trying to be hopeful. It was hard because I didn't get sick. With my first two pregnancies I had been quite sick by 6 weeks, but not this time. I knew that wasn't good, but it could still have been normal. I tried to keep my hopes up. I felt like the baby was a boy and that made me really happy. I wanted so badly to get excited, but the fear was always there.

My first ultrasound was scheduled for 6w6d. I was nervous and excited. I knew if there was a little beating heart I would feel much better. I also knew if there wasn't, it was probably over.

I got to the doctor's a few minutes late. W was already there. For the first time ever, my doctor was running behind and we sat and waited for what felt like forever. As the time passed I got a growing feeling of dread. The doctor finally came in. He asked me some questions. I remember thinking, "that's all pointless until we see a baby." He started the ultrasound but my bladder was too full. He saw the sack but said he needed me to go to the bathroom. I saw the sack too and I didn't see anything in it. I knew it was bad and told my husband as I put my pants back on to go to the bathroom. I came back but the doctor had gone to do something else and we had to wait some more. It felt like torture. He finally came back and we got a good look at the empty sack.

The doctor said he could see "what was trying to be a baby." The sack was round and that was a good sign. He told me it wasn't bad news. I almost believed him. Until he sat down and started quizing me about my dates. I knew they weren't off. I was on Clomid. I was charting. I knew when we tried. There was no way we had concieved days later than I thought. I knew that but the doctor and my husband seemed hopeful. I wanted to be, but I knew it was over.

I came back a week later to have it confirmed. It did sort of look like there was something in the sack, but the sack was smaller and weird shaped. There was no heartbeat. It was over. W wasn't there. This was the second time I had gotten this news without him there. But I couldn't be mad. He couldn't get off work again. My saving grace was AJ. I also couldn't find a sitter again so she came with me. I focused on her, got my D&C scheduled and got out of there without a tear. Sometimes I wonder what my OB and his nurse think of me. I have never cried at the news of any of my m/c's, or when I was being treated for them. Is that normal I wonder? I would have to guess that's it's not. Hopefully they don't judge me for it. I just cannot break down in public like that. It's not me.