The sonographer looked for ages. I can't fault her for thoroughness. My bowel was in the way so she massaged my abdomen to try and move it. The picture still wasn't great. But it didn't look good. There was a gestational sac. There was a yolk sac. There was no clear evidence of a fetal pole, let alone a heart beat.
She went to get a doctor, who has to view the scan in all cases of a miscarriage. I asked for Dr Casual as opposed to Dr ICU. As the sonographer left the room, H started to sob. I have never seen him sob before. Tears have come to his eyes as I have wept over our misfortunes, but today he sobbed. We sat there, me awkwardly holding the paper sheet over my nether regions, and waited. And waited. And waited. After 10 minutes Dr ICU popped in, noticed there was no sonographer, then left again. I cried some more, thinking that Dr ICU (who I'm sure is a lovely person, but I just don't like him) would be the one to confirm my miscarriage.
Eventually Dr Casual appeared with the sonographer. He'd been doing the transfers upstairs. In the meantime Dr Candour had called down to speak to the sonographer to hear our results, she told us, and had asked them to get a blood test as well. So Dr Casual did a further scan. Lots more pushing and prodding to try and get a good picture, with the same outcome. There was a gestational sac. There was a yolk sac. But there was nothing that could be described as a fetal pole.
The sonographer and Dr Casual agreed that this was not good. Then they told us we needed to come back in a week for another scan. "You're joking!" was my reaction. No, apparently they are not. Because they couldn't get a good picture, they don't want to initiate a surgical 'completion' of the pregnancy, nor do they want to stop the progesterone support and see what happens (I don't want that one either, thank you). So we have to continue with progesterone, and heparin, etc etc etc, for another week.
It's a different week than last week though. There is no hope. They agreed that although there was some minuscule, microscopic, vanishingly unlikely chance that this would work out, none of us really believe in that chance. 7w1d with no fetal pole doesn't really bode well. "If you start to bleed," said Dr Casual, "you must come straight into the hospital." But I'm not actually likely to bleed because the progesterone is keeping everything going. So next week we will return, they will confirm that everything looks shit, and then, hopefully, they will let us have a surgical procedure, which they didn't call a D&C but I didn't catch what they did call it, to 'complete' this pregnancy. Dr Candour has sent me an email saying that he is available this afternoon if I want to see him. Other than showing up and weeping, thus making him feel awkward, I'm not quite sure what this would accomplish, so I think I'm going to say no.
On the way to the hospital the one thing I was hoping for was no more ambiguity. It's not really ambiguity, but the doctors are treating it as if it is. What, precisely, did I do to deserve this?