(Blood) Testing times
30.06.16, 4:00 pm

It’s been a pretty awful June, to be honest, but it has a happy ending. 10 days after my last period started, I began bleeding slightly again, did a pregnancy test and found it to be positive. I then had 3 sets of blood tests at the doctors over the space of a week, which showed that my pregnancy hormone level was plateauing, rather than doubling every 48 hours like it was supposed to, which meant it was either a miscarriage or an ectopic pregnancy, which is where the egg develops in the fallopian tube and is a serious medical problem.

At this point, it was honestly OK. I was mildly disappointed that the pregnancy wasn’t viable, but it’d never really been on the table because of the period so I didn’t really feel like I’d lost anything. And I wasn’t seriously considering the ectopic option, because it seemed so unlikely.

After the third blood test and no sign of falling hormone, I was sent to the Early Pregnancy Unit for a scan, which handily is two floors above me in the hospital that I work. I underwent a trans-vaginal scan, which was mildly unpleasant but nothing awful, and various nurses gathered around the monitor and tried to find something, but there was nothing there. But then, I was only 4 weeks along, so it was very unlikely that they WOULD find something. I then had a unhappy 40 minute wait in the waiting room with a woman who was 8 weeks along and spent her time either crying or going outside and smoking, so my sympathy level was torn. Finally, I spoke to the registrar, who basically said she thought I probably had an ectopic and that I could either wait a week and hope it miscarried on its own, or take methatrexone. Methatrexone is a chemotherapy drug that stops cells dividing, so would eliminate the egg, but would hit my immune system, make me feel unwell for a week or so, and then mean that I couldn’t try for another baby for 6 months. I opted for the week long wait and then the blood test, and then walked home in a daze, concentrating on not blubbing on the street.

I continued to bleed lightly for four days, and then at the weekend suddenly started having cramps and began having a proper period. I’ve never been so happy to have a period. Assuming it was the hoped-for miscarriage, I went to my week-later blood test feeling hopeful, but was then devastated when the result that night came back and my hormone level having risen from 120 to 146. I was told to come back for more bloods two days later, and if it hadn’t fallen to get ready for the methatrexone. I tried to tell myself it was maybe because it was too soon post cramps, and that maybe my hormone level had risen in the week before the cramps arrived, but still felt awful. Hours were spent just thinking in circles… if it was an ectopic, then why have cramps and bleeding? But then if there was so much bleeding, why had the level risen? And so on and so on.

Bloods again on Wednesday, with my arms looking like a smackhead’s. Felt sick with nerves for most of the day, and then the result came back with the level at 109, which was good but not good enough, as ectopic pregnancy means that the hormone can fall and then rise again. I went to see the doctor the next day, who offered the methatrexone, which I turned down. I was therefore told to come back in a week for final bloods – if they had halved then I was OK and it would be a miscarriage; if they were still in the hundreds it was an ectopic/pregnancy of unknown location and I was to take the methatrexone. I was, however, due to go on holiday 4 days after the final bloods, so if I had to take the methatrexone then the holiday was off, as you have to be carefully monitored throughout.

Cue a week of worrying that I’d fucked up the holiday by not just taking the methatrexone when I’d had the chance. On Saturday, I started bleeding again, which led to full on despair that something was definitely medically wrong. However, I then began having cramps, so it seemed more likely that I was just expelling more lining etc. The bleeding became less but refused to completely go, so I then got back to worrying. Finally, yesterday arrived and I went for my final bloods, then sweated the day away, trying to resign myself to probably having to have the horrible mexatrexone the following day. Eventually couldn’t stand it any more, so rang in the evening and the nurse told me that although the doctor hadn’t signed off on it, my level had dropped to 77 and that they were happy. I felt drunk with relief.

So, I spoke to the nurse today and she said that the hormone level was coming down nicely, and that everyone was happy that it was a normal miscarriage. I’m allowed to go on holiday on Saturday (!) and must then have bloods when I get back until my level goes below 25. It feels like about 3 stone’s worth of tension has been taken off my shoulders. The waiting and worrying have been awful, because ectopics can be fatal if they rupture your tube, and can lead to infertility and all sorts, but also because the being in limbo just makes you feel like you have no control over yourself whatsoever. And the thought of having to wait 6 months to try for a baby again seemed so incredibly long and miserable, even though I know in the grand scheme of things it’s really nothing.

It’s been a challenge trying to be normal at work every day, sneaking off for bloods and then hiding the needle marks, but James and my friends have been truly awesome. I guess it’s moments like this that you realise how much people care about you. In the darkest moments it honestly felt like there was some sort of parasite living inside of me, refusing to die despite all of the odds being against it. You feel awful for hoping that it would die, because it’s kind’ve the start of life, but it started out wrong and would never have developed properly. I never thought I’d be so happy and overjoyed to have a miscarriage. And though I don’t want to jinx anything, or call it too soon, it’s hopefully all going to be OK now.

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