Today I am 8dp3dt.
Eight Days Post Three Day Transfer.
I am also G6P1.
Gravida Six Para One.
Six pregnancies, one birth.
This is one of the hardest posts I think I’ve ever had to write solely based on the emotional toll this is already taking on me. I got a positive on Sunday. The minutes have been eternal.
I will wait until Thursday for the beta, as scheduled. I will then have to wait the 48 hours for another beta, and of course, due largely to my last Gravida that didn’t turn Para back in May/June, I will ask for a third.
I am trying to stay upbeat and excited (not to mention sane) as I have every right to do, but I hope you can appreciate a few simple requests until I can exhale again:
No. 1 – Please, no congratulations yet. Save that for the potential birth;
No. 2 – If you decide to calculate a due date, that’s fine, but please do not tell me or even hint at it;
No. 3 – Please do not suggest multiples. While I am well aware of the risks we started with and the implications of early positives, I also remember back in May I test positive on CD11, and all I got from that was another miscarriage 10 days later.
No. 4 – Please do not suggest that this has broken the “November Curse”. November is not over, and this pregnancy is barely even beginning. This only reminds me of what could have been, and what I selfishly think, should have been.
I’m sorry if I sound rather ungrateful when in fact I shamelessly admit that I am completely and utterly overwhelmed with the possibilities. However, to allow myself to feel so much of what could be good right now, I must also acknowledge that I am acutely fearful of what is to come.
Punch Drunk 