i think that maybe, um, possibly, i might be, well, pregnant?

Which is to say that I have a positive pee stick in my purse, and feel compelled to keep it near me at all times.

Should I back up? I've left a lot of stuff out since I last visited this blog.

My leg healed. We bit the bullet and bought (took out a loan to buy) a car. We visited a new RE.

The new RE was thorough and compassionate and basically told us that she would go straight to IVF if it were her choice, but that we could also try another round or two of injectables + iui if that was our preference. She also recommended a few additional tests (results of which were all normal). And, during my physical examination, found a lump in my breast (which resulted in a mammogram, sonogram, and follow-up with a breast specialist, but which all seems normal).

So, we were (are?) leaning toward IVF. They have a 2 cycle shared risk progam that sounds good, and my parents came through with an offer of a loan to pay for it. We were just waiting, and waiting, and waiting for all the follow-ups related to my (most likely fibrocystic, but I do have one more follow-up with the specialist to make sure) breast lump, and scheduling the additional tests the RE wanted to do, and then waiting on those results, and then waiting to hear from the RE's office about whether I would be required to do a clomid challenge test (one of the prerequisites for the shared risk ivf program).

And I was feeling bloated, and my breasts were really sore, which made me suspect I had managed to ovulate on my own. And many days passed. And I began to wonder if I might be? Should I test? But, no. Peeing on sticks has only ever led to one result for me so it seemed incredibly pointless. But, really, if I did ovulate, shouldn't I have had a period by now? And if I didn't ovulate what was going on with my breasts?

So on Monday morning I decided I had to know, crept out of bed, stealthily removed a test from the drawer in Jack's nightstand (I had not mentioned my suspicions to him because I was sure I was wrong and I didn't want both of us to suffer) and headed for the bathroom.

The positive line came up before the control line. I can't remember but I don't think I even washed my hands. I screamed "Wake up!" while I jerked my underwear back up and ran to the bedroom. I turned on the lights and Jack sat up, blinking, thinking something horrible had happened. I put the positive (!) test in his hands and sat there in shock next to him.

"What does this mean?" he asked.
"I think it means we're pregnant" I answered, then grabbed his hand and put it over my heart so he could feel how quickly it was beating. My hands were shaking. He thought I was having a panic attack.

I went to new RE's office for a blood test. When was my last period? Hell if I know. But it came back very definitely pregnant. Beta almost 8000, but progesterone only 14. They called in prescriptions for me for progesterone supplements and prenatal vitamins. Scheduled me for a sonogram on Tuesday.

On Tuesday, with Jack holding my hand, we saw a gestational sack measuring 5 weeks 3 days. Everyone at the office said "congratulations" but the mood was not celebratory. I thought something was wrong. Jack thought I was worrying too much. They scheduled us for a second sonogram and more bloodwork on Thursday.

On Wednesday, my doctor called to prepare me for bad news. She thought the sonogram results were inconsistent with the hcg levels, and that I probably had a blighted ovum. We talked about next steps. I could tell that the conversation was almost as difficult for her as it was for me. I cried on my way to work, and my way home from work.

But! On Thursday, this time not holding Jack's hand so much as clutching his arm, we saw a gestational sack, yolk sack, fetal pole, and a heartbeat! Measuring 5 weeks 5 days. We left giddy, and tearful, and clutching a picture of a gray circle with a white spot or two.

New RE, whom I now think I will dub Dr. Cautious, although she could just as easily be Dr. Compassionate, called to say that the results were "great news" and that we would take things "one week at a time". She also doubled my progesterone supplementation. I go back in one week for another scan and another round of bloodwork.

I keep saying to Jack, "we might be pregnant" and he keeps answering, "we ARE pregnant."

Thrilled and terrified. Neither word begins to cover it.