Hello
You know that feeling of trying to do the impossible, or something damn near close, and actually succeeding? On Friday the 12th we were shocked, although thrilled, to find out that Levi was going to be big brother. We'd been so preoccupied with the move that I hadn't been doing any of the normal tracking/charting/symptom spotting it can require, let alone seeking treatment as it took the first time. It actually happened for us, my body did what it was supposed to, I'm fixed! I couldn't believe what I was seeing, and Toby was given another early morning wake up to confirm for me. This was really happening.
I looked up a few offices in the area, trying to score an appointment for dating and blood work. Finding a new doctor, in a place you're 3 days new to, and hoping they accept your insurance is a near hopeless act. The doctor everyone most recommended was taking vacation and booked solid until the middle of January. Knowing my early complications with Levi, I didn't want to take the risk, I called every day to check for cancellations or openings. I begged them to just let me come in for blood work, I didn't need to have an ultrasound I just wanted to make sure my hormone levels were where they should be. I tried to get into the military hospital in the area to hold me off, and was denied because I didn't have the "correct form of Tricare."
I ended up calling my doctor in Washington, explained the situation since they knew my history, and they offered to try and get me a progesterone prescription out here to hold me over.
In the mean time, my office out here had a cancellation for the 6th and that was the best they could do.
I was defeated, and my only option left was to wait until I could be seen on the 6th.
Goodbye
It was over before it started, honestly. I should have tried harder for an appointment, I should have just went through the process of switching my insurance despite our negative experiences at the military hospitals, I should have prevented the situation from happening until everything was set and I had doctors lined up.
We went to the ER Thursday the 18th. I knew what was happening, but I was holding onto the small sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, it was still early enough that they could get me to progesterone. It wasn't. My HCG was a 10, where it should have been close to 10,000. My uterus was measuring 7 weeks, where we thought I was only around 5 or 6. It was too little, too late and I failed my sweet baby.
We're doing alright, surprisingly. Levi is being a lovey, cuddly sweetheart. Toby is helping extra where he can, picking up where I'm slacking. I'm trying to go on as I should, but who is to say what that standard is? I have a beautiful, amazing child that I was blessed with. I can't let this bring me down so far as to neglect him and lack on the attention he should be receiving. I can't let this get under my skin so much as the holidays approach and we should be celebrating and starting traditions as a family. But this is life, it happened, and it hurts.
What would he or she have looked like? Would a two year age difference allow Levi and them to have been as close as we hoped? Would Levi have been the amazing big brother that I imagined him to be?
Life is full of so many unanswered questions, but this was one I was one I never expected to know.
