My heart rate must have doubled in the doctor’s waiting room. I thought I was going to fall off my chair and be sick while I waited to be seen.
Once I got in there, I just said:
“I can’t stay pregnant.”
Turns out none of my fears were realised. He was very kind, and said he understood how difficult it must be, and referred me to the hospital clinic immediately.
My appointment is on the 18th June, at the department that I spent three days in following my miscarriage last August.
He said they will do a number of blood tests, but that they would probably find nothing.
At least if they find nothing I will know that nothing is wrong with me.
In the meantime, all I can do is continue eating as well as possible and trying to control my stress levels and tearfulness over this whole thing.
Most depressing of all is the weeks ahead of waiting for yet another cycle to come around.
Waiting, waiting, waiting, while I get older and older.