It's decided. You've convinced me. I'm calling a doctor.
The tricky thing is, who do I call? I haven't been seeing any doctors in a long while. The one fertility doc I saw (almost three years ago now), Dr. M, retired shortly after my first appointment.
If my calculations are correct, it's 6 weeks 4 days since my last period. Pregnancy symptoms are much less than they were two weeks ago, much less than they were at this point with other pregnancies. Staining has graduated to spotting. I've told everyone who asks that it's over, it's just a matter of time.
In order to spare myself the emotional rollercoaster, I thought I would simply skip it altogether, assume the worst, accept it. When bleeding begins, I resolved to weather the storm with a few DVDs and a hot water bottle. And then move on.
Oh who am I kidding? I still have surges of pregnancy symptoms, and of course I'm thrilled when I do. I still fantasize that everything is actually okay, and appreciate the veil of mystery that makes this possible. And yes, I'm afraid to have some stranger take that away from me.
But I don't want to live in fantasy any more. If this pregnancy is over, then I want to know it. If there's hope, if there's something that can be done, I want to know that too.
I'm going to call Dr. M's clinic first thing tomorrow (Monday), in hopes that my medical records are still on file, that someone else will take on this orphaned patient and respond to the urgency of my plea. Cross your fingers for me.