BFP: Big Effing Positive
So, my wife is pregnant. The week I’ve spent circling around the subject has done little to change that fact. And I’m willing to bet that, had I said something last Tuesday, when we first got the news, it wouldn’t have changed the reality of the situation either. It’s a hard thing to come to grips with, realizing that what I write on this webpage has absolutely no impact on the goings-on within Stephanie’s uterus. But I think I’m finally there. I think I’ve finally come to grips with the fact that I can tell you she’s pregnant without fear of reprisals.
She’s had her blood drawn and tested three times. The first time was last Tuesday, the fifth; the second time was on Thursday, the seventh; and the third time was today. What our medical team was looking at was the level of Human Chorionic Gonadotropin (hCG) in her blood. If things are going well, that number should double every 48-72 hours. And it has doubled in each and every case.
For posterity, and for the morbidly curious, here are the numbers:
Beta #1 (13 days past 3-day transfer): 281
Beta #2 (15 days past 3-day transfer): 546
Beta #3 (21 days past 3-day transfer): 4900
She’s actually pregnant. There’s no denying it now. And I couldn’t be happier. I really couldn’t.
In the past week, we’ve cried and held each other tight while a nurse told us “Congratulations”; I’ve had my first encounter with a baby since hearing the news, when my boss brought his newborn into work to show me what I was in for; and we’ve had wonderful moments, in person and on the phone, with our families. It’s been an amazing time, but my optimism has, and continues to be, guarded. As incredible as this news is, I have to remember that we’re still a long way away from our ultimate goal. Bumps in the road may be many or they may be few. It’s still too early to tell.
But she’s pregnant, and, try as I might, I can’t get beyond that simple fact. I’m just so astonished by this turn of events that I haven’t been able to see past the here and now yet. I haven’t really been able to imagine the wrinkled, bloody, screaming child at the end of all of this. I’m sure I’ll get there eventually. But, for now, I’ll just relish the fact that we’ve succeeded where I assumed, for so long, that we were destined to fail.
Stephanie is pregnant. And me, I might actually get to be a dad.