Deep breath followed by a deep breath followed by ...

I have a lot to catch you up on, but I have no idea where to start. How about I'll take on a made-for-TV-movie journey? It has its ups, its downs and I'm sure I could add a little sappy music into the mix.

First things first, let's shout the happy news. We're nearly seven weeks pregnant!! But the last five days have been the most nerve-wracking. Now, that you know the story has a happy ending ...

Starting chronologically:
Monday night:
I have a little bit of spotting.
Tuesday morning:
8 a.m.: I call the practice. The nurse tells me to get a blood test to measure the hcG level, aka the pregnancy hormone. She says to call back by 3 p.m., and they'll have the results.
9 a.m.: I arrive at work sick to my stomach with worry.
3 p.m.: I call for the results. Seems they aren't in yet, so I am told to call back at 4.
4 p.m: An hour later, still no results. Call back in a hour, they say.
5 p.m.: Nope. They ask for my phone number, so they can call me when it's in. The practice closes at 5:30 p.m.
5:25 p.m.: My phone rings. The results? 805,521. Nearly four times the normal amount. The nurse is breathless on the phone saying she's never seen numbers this high. (Great.) I ask if I should be worried? She said no, it means that I must have more than one baby. (Phew) She says she'll forward the results to the doctors, and I'll get a call by 2 p.m.
7:30 p.m.: The head of the practice's nuse calls. They're worried. That number is too high, she says. It means only one thing -- a molar pregnancy. She tells me to come in at 10:50 a.m. Wednesday for an emergency ultrasound. From there, they will decide when to administer the chemo. (CHEMO?!?)
7:35 p.m.: I jump on the computer and Google molar pregnancy. Read here for the horrifying results. (Think miscarriage, cancer, chemotherapy, no more trying for a baby for at least a year. My worst nightmare.)
Wednesday:
8 a.m.: Arrive at work terrified, but in need of putting the magazine to bed.
10:55 a.m.: Brent and I are called back for the dreaded ultrasound. We enter the same room, where we were a little more than two months ago and saw Morgan was dead.
11 a.m.: The technician tells us the baby is healthy, the placenta is healthy, the ovaries are healthy and THERE'S NO MOLAR PREGNANCY!!

I think Brent and I nearly fainted from the good news. After meeting with the doctor, he goes over the possibilities: Either there's a partial molar pregnancy undetectable on ultrasound or there was a lab error. He says that if it's the former, we'd need to meet with a maternal and fetal specialist as well as a cancer doctor so he can immediately begin administering chemotherapy. In the back of my head, I thought to myself that we just saw a healthy baby and there's no way I'm terminating the healthy baby.

2 p.m.: The doctor calls. The lab results were wrong. My level is at 30,000. I asked her to repeat that. There was a gross error at the lab. (Ya think?)

I've never thanked God more in my life. And the adventure wasn't over there. Stay tuned.