What will be, will be

... is what I'm trying to tell myself, over and over, while taking deep breaths and trying to not freak the shit out.
  
I'm pregnant. Number Seven.
  
I had already called this cycle as over. No spotting, no implantation bleeding = not pregnant. Monday night I had decided if I hadn't seen it yet, I wasn't going to, and I had round 2 of a root canal scheduled for the next morning for which I was planning a game time decision to keep or cancel. When I found out I needed the stupid thing last month I intentionally scheduled it early in my cycle to be in a "safe" zone, but then *oops* they forgot to mention that it happens over 2 appointments about 2 weeks apart. So Tuesday morning as I lay there in the dentist chair trying to keep my calm and ignore the chemicals floating around in my mouth, I thought "thank god I'm not pregnant right now."
  
For both appointments I scheduled an acupuncture session for immediately after. Figured would help counter the stress and maybe even provide the bonus of a little pain relief. But on Tuesday I picked up on some weird cues -- she checked my pulse twice, she put a bizarre number of needles in my head and when I asked why (which I never do) she got kind of flustered and said something about raising my qi and preventing miscarriage justincase, but then continued to talk about the herbs she wanted me to try next cycle, so I dismissed it. But that witchy witchy woman knew something.
  
Then Wednesday afternoon I go to the bathroom at work, and Hold the Goddamn Phone there's spotting. Luckily I was alone because I actually said out loud "What the fuck is that?!" I get back to my computer and pull up a calendar and start scratching my head -- too late for implantation bleeding (13dpo, way late for me), and too early for my period (not due til Saturday or Sunday). I was already planning to take a pregnancy test the next morning to confirm could stop the progesterone supps, so I tried to put it out of my mind, but the preoccupation and obsessive thoughts were already sneaking in. 
  
Thursday morning I wake at 5 am, instantly panicking and having to pee, no way I'm falling back to sleep. I grab a pee stick and tip toe down to the downstairs bathroom, because for some reason I didn't want my husband to hear me, I just needed to deal with this alone first. Within a few minutes there it was -- the double line. It was faint, too faint for my tastes, but there. I know my RPL peeps will understand and my apologies to those who don't, but my first thought is Oh Shit. I crawl quietly back into bed and my mind is racing. I pick up my phone (and I can hear you all saying "no, don't, don't do it!" like you're watching the stupid co-ed in a horror movie) but I start googling. "Implantation timing." "Root canal pregnancy." And of course find no reassurance but a whole host of reasons to panic, and I'm convinced that its already DOOMED. AGAIN. I turn instead to a crossword and start the futile familiar process of trying to cool-my-shit and distract-heavily, until my alarm went off.
  
I go to work like nothing is going on, nothing at all. But I wonder like so many days before how odd I appear to others. Talking too much, laughing too loud, comprehending too little, perhaps? In a stroke of coincidence I already had an appointment with Dr. B (the RPL doc) the next day since she hasn't seen me in 6 months and I needed a refill for my thyroid meds, so I try to just get through the day, knowing the next day There Would be Betas. Thankfully my reiki/meditation/support group class was that night - I was able to vent, cry, be comforted and somehow come away feeling relaxed. 
  
Next day I see Dr. B. and I catch her up on everything - the Sunshine Clinic, immunology doc, and the newest BFP. She completely puts to rest my fears about the root canal bullshit, bless her soul. She decides that we should try baby aspirin and a double dose of progesterone this time. She actually comments that emotionally I seemed to be doing well and to try and keep it up (Acting!!). She wishes me luck, gives me a hug, and sends me on my way. 
  
I went back to work and waited for the call with my beta results, playing over scenarios in my mind. The bizarre relief I would feel if super low and out of the game already, the scary hope I would feel if super high and better than ever before. 
  
What I got was something in between: Beta #1 14dpo = 273. A good solid number, I can't deny. High enough to absolve my fears about late implantation and stupid root canals. But eerily similar to my first beta of doomed pregnancy #5 almost exactly a year ago (266).
  
It can go anywhere from here folks. No way to tell, nothing to do but wait and hope and distract and breathe. What will be, will be.
  
*Footnote: Good god I'm long winded. Sorry for such a rambling post, definitely one of those days where I just needed to get all this out of me. Thank you for letting me.