There is a moment when you realize that you and your best friend won't be pregnant together...your babies won't be four weeks apart. There is deep grief when you get that terrible phone call. There is also a slight sense of relief when you realize you aren't the one with bad news this time.
On Friday, one of my dearest friends was supposed to have her first ultrasound. She should have been 8 weeks pregnant, and being just over four weeks ahead of her, I knew that she should easily see a little blob baby and a heartbeat. She got pregnant within four months and has never had a loss, so I honestly wasn't worried for her...I was excited. She called around noon and managed to squeak out, "It didn't go well." My heart sank immediately. Apparently there was a perfect gestational sac, but that was it. No yolk sac, no fetal pole.
I'm a little disheartened by the advice she received from her doctor. They told her maybe she had counted wrong, she was still early, and that they would check her blood on Saturday and Monday. Three weeks ago, though, she had a beta of just over 1,000. I hope they aren't giving her false hope. I pray that I am wrong, that I'm being overly cynical because of my own experiences, but it doesn't look good.
My heart is just breaking for her. I always thought it would be nice to be "normal," to call and tell the doctor you're pregnant and be told to come in at 8 weeks for your first ultrasound. Maybe normal isn't always good, though. For my friend, she has lived the last 3 weeks in ignorant bliss, thinking her baby was growing away inside. Maybe it would have been easier if she could have found out sooner. Not that anything could make a situation like this easy.....