Pregnancy Take Two - The Results

I heard from the hospital and had my final visit today. I'm happy to announce that it was not a Molar Pregnancy, after everything, they've confirmed that it was 'just a failed pregnancy'. Oh, just a failed pregnancy...nothing more, thank God?!
The Doctor who called me kept on telling me that it was just a miscarriage and I was thinking 'no, no it wasn't. Nothing like what happened first time round happened this time round. This time round I had some spotting which stopped and then had an evacuation, as you told me I had too. Did you get it wrong?'. Finally I was told the whole truth about what happened, instead of what they had led me to believe, which was:
On my first trip, they struggled to see the sack (as everything is so small) and told me I would miscarry, but she wanted me to visit in a week for a confirmation.
On the second trip, the Sonographer told me that it looked like a Molar Pregnancy and that cysts were present; the Specialist didn't even look at the scans, just read the report and signed the paperwork.

Today, finally, the nurse confirmed the following:
On the first trip the Sonographer struggled to find the sack, especially as it was so early and there were signs of trauma, possibly resulting in a potential miscarriage. Additionally my HCG hormones were high, which is apparently synonymous with a threatened miscarriage.
On the second trip the second Sonographer couldn't see a sack or foetus but could see potential cysts and therefore reported a Molar Pregnancy.

Why they couldn't tell me on the second visit that there appeared to be no sack, however potential Molar Pregnancy signs, is beyond me. Instead they went straight for 'You have a Molar Pregnancy' and worry me senseless in the process.
Why they couldn't be straight with me from the first visit, instead of saying 'you'll miscarry', why couldn't they say everything is super small and I don't think this will be a viable pregnancy, I'm sorry but we'll confirm next week. Then on the second visit they say, I agree this isn't viable, however there appears to be worrying signs of a Molar Pregnancy...but this may not be the case and it may be a simple miscarriage?! But in these cases we have to perform an evacuation to confirm our suspicions, is beyond me and yet they jump to worse case scenarios and have you out of my mind.

On the upside, it wasn't Molar, which means that Rowan and I do not have to wait 6-12 months to continue to try for 'Pregnancy - Take Three'. This also means I do not have to attend endless blood and urine tests at Charing Cross Hospital and that there are not any further worrying health issues to panic about. On the upside this is extremely positive and wonderful news (although very sad), it is just a shame that it was delivered and dealt with in a confused, muddled and not straight forward manner.

Evacuation

Friday morning saw myself and Rowan heading to St. Thomas's hospital to have the grim procedure of my Molar Evacuation. The day patient nurses and staff were all lovely (apart from the receptionist who couldn't raise a smile if her life depended on in). I tried to remain cheery but it is a difficult thing to do in light of what was to come.

I cracked the joke about shamefully wearing the same outfit as everyone else, the only people who raised a smile were the nurses, I fear all the other patients were extremely nervous, understandably. All in all I was there for about three hours, knocked out for approximately one hour. And then it was all over and I was no longer pregnant, just another statistic. Now I have to wait for two weeks and call a random number on a Wednesday between 2-4pm only, it feels like something out of James Bond, I wonder if the page with the details on them will burn once the call is complete.

The call should confirm whether it was a 'complete' or 'partial' molar, by then I should also know if my body has been drained of all HCG hormones or if the procedure (which is performed blindly) removed everything; there is no guarantee and the remains may continue to grow, resulting in a second procedure, which is all terribly fucked up and annoying.

We also can not start or continue to try to get pregnant until everything is at nil, as if waiting is my best past time and something that I truly excel at with ease and grace.

In other news, all of my temping has finished so I am once again unemployed and not getting paid. E.G. skint! Tomorrow I start the boring process of job hunting and trying to prostitute myself out to the highest bidder, I'm sure you can tell that I am not looking forward to it. Why can I not get paid to sit at home watching films / TV, while crocheting?!

We have started to sort out our garden again, for a second time. The first time round a bastard squirrel ate all of the seeds (and did so like a bloody ninja for at least a month), this time round we have skipped the gestation period and bought pre-grown herbs and flowers. We even took pity on two dying house plants for a whole 50p each, although my green fingers are not green in the slightest.

I've purposefully bought some self-drip feeders, so that they don't all automatically die as soon as I get distracted...we shall see, a little like we shall see what the phone call in two weeks, my next lot of blood tests and all of these jobs I apply for bring. Being a grown up is so dull and painfully slow at times.

Pregnancy, Take Two - The Molar Pregnancy

I cannot help but feel that my body is slowly trying to tick off every single thing that can go wrong during pregnancy:

First Trimester Miscarriage:  TICK

Dreaded Molar Pregnancy that every pregnant woman fears: TICK

What next, Second or Third Trimester Miscarriage? A positive test result in relation to a terrible syndrome which can wreck your beautiful future child’s chance at a *traditional life? Near death experience, resulting in the removal of your womb? Still born? Cot death?

I do know that I am being overly dramatic but I feel fucking shitty right now. I know that on the grand scheme of things life and death can be a whole lot worse and at least I found out relatively early and didn’t go on thinking for the rest of my first trimester (five weeks) that everything was blissful to discover at 12 weeks that it was a clusterfuck of cells masquerading as a foetus.

I do know that it is just the luck of the draw and we had no luck this time round. I joked with Rowan in regards to our odds for a traditional pregnancy next time round: We’ve been part of the 1 in 4 miscarriage brigade, now we're part of the 1 in 600 Molar Cell Calculation Fuck Ups. However, bearing in mind that Rowan’s odds for getting MS after having Cholera, Meningitis and a rare tropical disease (that the London Hospital of Tropical Diseases hadn’t seen for a hundred years) were pretty low, it also highlights the fact that next time round something even more fucked up may strike and that all of the worry and panic I felt when I first found out about this pregnancy were for nothing; if you are going to miscarry or have something crap happen, that will continue to occur regardless of sleep, work, what you eat and drink, or how you live your life.

Pregnancy is a very strange creature. It can take months, years and decades to conceive to have it cock up. The whole process is one of chance and the potential outcome is also one of chance, yes age and health will go against you or in your favour, but so will walking down the street instead of catching a bus or wearing red instead of green. My point is that when it is right and you end up with a healthy baby for the foreseeable future, it is truly a gift, a remarkable beautiful gift of every bit of chance working in your favour.

I am someone who panics when in limbo, however as soon as I have facts and answers, all is good. So in answer to everyone who wants to talk and ensure me that they care (and yes, I do know you care and you mean the best, and I do really appreciate that, even though I am coming off as an angry, senseless, selfish bitch from hell) but there is really nothing to talk about, the facts have been discussed with the specialist, the consent forms have been signed and the procedure has been booked:

Yes, it is shit.

Yes, I know that it doesn’t mean that we’ll continue to struggle in the future.
Yes, I know this is just circumstantial, a setback, if you will.

Yes, of course there are various other options out there, if my body does decide that creating life is not it’s cup of tea.

Yes, I’m aware that someone’s cousin’s sister-in-law-once-removed also had one and they’ve now got 40 children of every colour and religion, having their first pregnancy at the grand young age of 62.

Yes, Rowan is being extremely supportive and perhaps you could also extend a kind word in his direction, as this is happening to him also. He is also going through this with me, he is also hurting at the loss of our potential child and future that is now delayed, once again.

And Yes, I know that next time it may work out, however I also know that it may not and that it isn’t a reflection on me, or Rowan, and it isn’t a bad thing. However it is a shitty thing but shitty things happen daily in this world and I am at peace with that.

*I have purposefully not used the word ‘normal’, as when it comes to creation, birth and life: normal isn’t a "thing", it doesn’t exist.