It’s been a little over a month now since our loss, and while I wish I had positive news to report, I’m afraid that life has been temporarily put on hold.
At our post-op follow-up appointment, where I was sure we’d get the all clear to start trying again, we learned that the pathology report had not come back yet and that the pathologist suspected a potential molar pregnancy. Once we heard back from the lab, that suspicion was confirmed: Our loss had been a partial-molar pregnancy, and I would now need to be monitored for persistent disease.
I won’t go into all the details here, but essentially, there’s a chance after any molar pregnancy for what’s called persistent Gestational Trophoblastic Disease (GTD). GTD presents itself by keeping hCG (aka the pregnancy hormone) levels elevated even after a pregnancy has ended, so the monitoring consists of blood tests to measure that hormone. While all things are looking good so far through weekly blood draws (yay, negative numbers!), we’re on hold until spring before we can start trying again.
I think hearing this diagnosis sent me reeling back several stages in the grief process. OK, I mostly just hurtled back toward anger and lingered there for a few days (ahem, weeks), but at this point, I’ve more or less accepted that waiting is the only option. Luckily, with a partial-molar pregnancy (as opposed to a complete molar), risk of disease is extremely slim. And since my numbers are already negative, all we have to do is wait and confirm that I’m in the clear.
Wait, and wait, and wait. Patience is a virtue, right?
Yeah. If anyone who knows me is reading this, you probably know patience is not a virtue of mine.
It’s going to be a long, long winter.