and the second beta is...

...169!

Cycle Buddy had guessed it was going to be 172. I can't believe how close she was!

Other good news: estradiol is up to 146 and progesterone is up to 18.8. Blondie (aka Nurse Barbie) sounded genuinely excited for me this time and not, you know, like I was a total crackpot who needed to be handled with care.

To throw some more numbers at you, this beta shows a doubling time of 31.7 hours. Well within the 48-hour range.

I was supposed to go back on Monday for my third beta, but decided to push it to Tuesday since I'm taking that day off from work. I ran the numbers in a beta calculator and to stay within the nice, comfy 48-hour window, it will need to be about 678. If I reach or surpass that number by Tuesday, I'll have my first ultrasound the following week.

And because I'm me, yesterday had to be an Adventure of Epic Proportions. There is something about my car that doesn't like the trip to Posh Clinic. Last year, we blew out a tire on a pothole. Wrecked the rim and everything. Then there was the car accident on the way to an ultrasound. And yesterday, on the ride there, I got a warning light to service my power steering and power train system.

I called the dealership right after my ultrasound to see if I needed to have the car towed or if I could drive it back. It's a 34-mile drive, so I didn't want to risk anything. They didn't want to say, but after I said, "I am accepting full responsibility and releasing you of liability. In your expert opinion, can I drive it or do I need a tow?" she said, "You can drive it."

Okay then.

Only, when I tried to pull out of my parallel parking spot, I discovered that the power steering was gone. It wasn't working period. I popped the hood. It had plenty of fluid. This was something more serious. Fantastic!

I called AAA. They said the wait time was 75 minutes. In the snow.

I wanted to cry.

But, as luck would have it, the tow guy showed up within 8 minutes. He loaded my car onto a flatbed and deposited us both at the dealership, where I was greeted by a coworker picking up some equipment that I had in my car and the BFF, who drove me home.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't an EPIC journey home. But it took long enough. If my car hadn't crapped out I would've been home by 10:45. As it stood, I didn't get there until 12:30. And lost half a day's work to boot.

So, I'm going back on Tuesday, and between now and then, my goal is to focus on the freelance project, pulling everything together for the accountant, and keeping myself busy in general. Next weekend we have Mini-Hope and I'm not looking forward to it. For one thing, I'm going to have to put in a lot of time on the freelance project. For another, I have to hide all evidence of this pregnancy and lie about the shot I take once a night (I've told her it's for my psoriasis).

But lastly, the biggest issue is this: Most of the time the kid drives me nuts. I didn't raise her, and I don't approve of the way she's been raised. She's spoiled. Bratty. She's not always nice to Precious Pup. Her grandmother has given her massive food issues, so the kid sneak-eats when we're sleeping and begs for more food (particularly junk) when we're awake. It is a constant battle. Plus, she just turns into a zombie in front of the TV. Like, for hours.

I have spent years trying to forge a relationship with this kid. Sometimes she loves me. Most of the time she just tries to manipulate me. I don't go for it; her dad does. I am the Mean One Who Says No.

God, I sound like a horrible bitch, don't I? I don't mean to. Dealing with Mini-Hope just wears me out, and at a time when I don't have any energy to begin with, I'm kind of dreading that.