Today I am 7 weeks 2 days pregnant, but according to my ultrasound the little critter is measuring a week behind, 6 weeks 1 day. The heartbeat, it’s there, but slow. Slower than they’d like. I’m waiting for blood results which should tell us more, while trying to stop crying. I’m amazed at how many tears keep coming, like they’ve been waiting on call all along.

In between sobbing like a 32-year old baby, I’ve been scouring message boards for success stories. Stories where suddenly a fetus catches up, astounding everyone, defying the odds. They’re out there, but they are few and far between. I can picture our little guy struggling to hang on, fighting to survive. That’s what makes this hardest, knowing that at any minute the little critter might die inside me.

With a 2.5% chance of conceiving naturally the fact that I’m pregnant at all is a miracle. I’m praying that another miracle is happening as we speak, that the critter is just having a slow day, that he’ll be okay. I’m willing and wishing him to catch up. Unfortunately, you can wish in one hand and crap in the other and see which one fills up faster.


Just got my blood results. My HCG is 13,000 which is on the low end of normal for 7 weeks. My progesterone has fallen to 27. Heart rate was a struggling 60 bpm. According to my doctor there’s a 20 % chance that this critter will survive, but based on my research the chance is much much lower to nonexistent.  So now we wait. We wait for the end. To be honest I’m really hoping that this all happens naturally and soon. I want to tell the little Critter to stop fighting if he’s struggling, that it’s okay to let go. I’m sure I probably sound like a defeatist, but that’s how I cope. Holding tight to the impossible is just not my thing.

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