Hork

WARNING: This is mostly gross and TMI recorded for my own recollection, so please feel free to ignore. Damn, biology is gross.

So! Three weeks later, and I'm still alive and seemingly still pregnant. I had four betas, all with excellent numbers and doubling times (623, 1400, 4000, 10000), and despite a couple of unpleasant (read: utterly terrifying) spotting/cramping episodes, one of which earned us that 4th beta, we still saw an appropriately sized blob with a strong heartbeat at our 6w3d ultrasound. This was reassuring enough that we shared the news with our parents. Well, to be honest, we really didn't have much choice. Mark's parents are visiting right now and we have tickets to take them to a wine festival tonight. For those who know me in real life, well, my not drinking at a wine festival is about as subtle as a blinking neon sign declaring "PREGNANT" plastered to my forehead. I'm not an alcoholic by any stretch, but I ... I like wine, ok? Let's just say the jig was up. Obviously all four first-time potential grandparents are BESIDE THEMSELVES and struggling with the embargo on the big news. 

Anyhoo, things have been progressing, I guess. There is definite bloating, my bras feel snug, nausea showed up at precisely 6 weeks, like, to the hour, I am unspeakably exhausted, and I am desperately, desperately in need of some Activia. Ahem. (Apologies for the TMI, y'all.) 

What is totally freaking me out is the cramping/bleeding episode I had last night. I came up to my room late in the afternoon because I thought I was having some, um, Activia-related issues (omg, I'm sorry). What I discovered was blood. A LOT of blood. A terrifying amount, in fact. At first it was thin, then it got thicker, by morning it was brown. I didn't panic because it wasn't clotty and also because these episodes seem to happen after I've had a lot of tonic water, which I just discovered can be an anticoagulant. (MORON. Obviously that is on the No Fly List now.) My next ultrasound isn't until a week from Tuesday, so I'm going to talk to my nurse tomorrow and see if she can sneak me in for a mental health check. I am trying so hard to remain detached, because hello, still so early, but I would really, really prefer it if the blob were still there and growing happily. 

Poor Mark is stuck running interference with his parents about why I have been up in my room for nearly a day, letting them assume I'm just nauseated and sleeping it off. I think that's probably better for all than, ohh, she's on bedrest because she spent half the night hemorrhaging. I can think of better times for house guests is what I'm saying. On the plus side, I did learn while chatting with my dear MIL, who has been cooking and cleaning up for my useless ass, that when Mark was born, his dad's parents flew in before the due date and just kind of hung out for an open ended visit, awaiting his (very late) arrival. My MIL found this to be an exquisite type of torture and swore the that she would never do this to her children. They plan to make do with Skype and photos until we're ready for visitors. I had been fretting about this, as I love them and would never want to keep them from their grandbaby, but oh LORD, did I not want anyone in my house in the very early days. Huge relief! 

So, to sum up: grossness, discomfort, and anxiety, with occasional bouts of gory terror. This is life at 7w1d.