Houston, we have a heartbeat. 136 by one measurement, 128 by another. Seen by abdominal ultrasound. Measuring exactly where I know myself to be-- 6w5d. I am pretty astounded, as I was really bracing for bad news. (Brown spotting on Wednesday night did not help with that. Sorry I didn't tell you, but I wasn't sure whether JD could read the blog from Europe, and didn't want him to worry. But my sister was called and alerted to sleep with her cell phone next to her, in case I needed her to come stay with Monkey while I hauled my ass to the hospital-- being alone with Monkey really re-focused what I was worried about, for better or for worse. For better, I think, as it allowed me to concentrate on making it to the morning rather than on whether the shit was hitting the fan, you know?)
My friend Aite went with me, for in case news was bad and for general moral support. Good thing, too, since although I brought a book, I am not sure I could've read-- when I got to the floor, and then to the reception area, I started to shake a little. Not sure whether Aite noticed, but we talked all through the wait, and it really helped. In fact, I think, other patients in the waiting area might have mistaken us for carefree clueless people. Let me assure you, though, at least on my part it was all nervous energy.
I have a bit of a strange pain on my right side still, where the cyst used to live, and I was worried. But both the technician and Dr. Best looked very carefully at both the ovaries and the tubes, and didn't see anything interesting. Speaking of Dr. Best. He came in, asked me how I was (shell-shocked), and then said "I guess you showed them upstairs." Did I mention I love my OB? Nurse Kind also came in-- she works triage on Fridays, and said she was watching for me to be called in, and then came to see what was up. Did I mention I lucked out to have been assigned to them (randomly) when I was pregnant with A?