It’s been a hella day. Around mid-day I got a call from my doctor. When he calls me instead of the nurse, I can assume it’s not good news. I had my blood tested again two days ago, and the results came back. My HCG (human chorionic gonadotropin) hormone went up again. It’s not at ten thousand something.

It was at 5600 a week ago. If this were a normal pregnancy it would double every two days. So it should be at 60,000 or so a week later. It was only at 10,000. So, it’s not a healthy, viable pregnancy. It’s probably not a pregnancy at all anymore.

My doctor told me that he wants me to go in for an ultrasound on Monday if nothing occurs this weekend. He doesn’t like that the number is still going up so he wants to triple check (we’ve already checked twice) to make sure that there isn’t a pregnancy in my fallopian tubes. That sounded reasonable to me so I agreed.

This afternoon, I went for my long run. I want to keep my long run in the double digits so I don’t lose any conditioning that I have from last week’s half marathon. Plus, I’m in training again for another half. It’s 7 weeks away!

I planned out a route and started around 4 PM. It was a hazy day, fairly humid, but not hot. Here is the only picture I took of my run, around the two mile mark.

By mile 7, I was hurting. I had a weird pain running down the back of my left leg. I sat down on a bench for two minutes. I weighed my options. I could turn left and run a 3 mile loop, or I could turn right and walk the 200 feet to my car.

The thing about writing this blog is that it creates a sense of accountability in me. I sat on that bench and I thought, do I want to write about failing to run 10 miles, or do I want to write about actually running 10 miles?

So I got up and I started running. The pain in my leg got better after about a half mile. By mile 8, I was feeling good and I knew I would finish strong.

At 8.75 miles, the unexpected happened. I felt something warm. I thought it was possible I was peeing myself. Hey, gross things happen when running, right? Yep. This was grosser.

My doctor said I would have an ultrasound Monday unless “something happened” this weekend. Well, that something was happening today. And at that moment I was 1.5 miles from my car. I stopped running and wondered what the hell I was going to do.

I knew my husband was home with the kids, probably either feeding them dinner or giving them a bath. I could call him and he would come, but it would be at least 45 minutes, and I would just have to stand there waiting around.

I called my best friend. She lives nearby. However, she was somewhere else and would need an hour to get to me. She was willing but I said no thanks. She offered to stay on the phone with me to distract me. It totally worked. I walked the mile and a half back to my car, but since I was talking to her on the phone, I was a lot less embarrassed about my situation. I was able to laugh about it with her.

I made it back to the car. I called my doctor and he said that was probably the second half of the miscarriage that we’ve been waiting for, and that we could cancel the ultrasound for Monday. Another blood test next week should (hopefully) show that the hormone is going down, and this is finally behind me.