I'm a little ashamed to admit it, but I started this blog as a sort of pity-party. It was all, Oh, look at me and my pathetic, single self! Why can't I find somebody? (Because that's attractive.) I wrote about having no dates, about having bad dates, about how having no date is worse than a bad date, about how having a bad date is worse than having no date... Occasionally, I broke it up with vignettes about family or my personal take on this or that or the other; but let's be honest here: The undercurrent was always, These are just sidebars in this single girl's life. The important thing here is that I'm single, and I have nothing else in my life except for photos of purloined children and overblown opinions that I've formed in all my dateless free time. (Again, real attractive...)
And then I met He Who Saved Me From My Self-Absorbed Single Self. And, oh, but it has been wonderful! Not perfect, but perfectly imperfect, so much so that I don't feel that need to run to the computer for purging and validation anymore. Except...well...now I have this new nagging empty pit in my stomach...the one that says, OK, sister, I'll grant you that you just got married, like, 10 minutes ago...but you're 36...and the "sell by" date on your little carton of eggs passed, like, an hour ago. Oh, and did I mention that my 25-year-old fresh-egged niece is pregnant with a baby of her own? Let me tell you, there is nothing that makes me want to run to my computer searching for a little purging and validation like being a 36-year-old soon-to-be-great-aunt!
Now, before I dive into another pity party, let me just say that I know well that I am not, by any stretch of the imagination, the first "late bloomer" in the World of Mommy Wannabes. And I totally appreciate that there are women who are a lot farther down this road than me -- women in their 40s or even their 50s, women who have battled through miscarriages and stillbirths, women who have emptied their life savings on in vitro...
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That was the post I started writing on February 3rd. That's where I was in my head at the moment. But then HWSMFMS came home from work, and I put the post aside to go out and greet him. Two weeks later, I returned to the post to finish it. Except...I had this feeling that maybe I shouldn't. Maybe...it might be...premature to finish the post. So I didn't finish it.
A week later, I was waiting fro HWSMFMS to get home from work. I really wanted to go across the street to our neighborhood Irish pub and have a drink (or 5) that night. But...I had another feeling. So I pulled out the pack of pregnancy tests that I had squirreled away in the back of my bathroom vanity. I looked at it, started to put it away again, then opened it. My period should have started that day, and it hadn't, so it wasn't totally crazy and desperate...right? About 90 seconds later, I was looking at 2 lines on the stick. The full 3 minutes later, the 2 lines were still there. I was beyond excited! And then I thought, Wait...what does that mean? The stick very clearly showed that 2 lines meant pregnant, but maybe I was misreading the "answer key" on the stick. So I looked at the instruction sheet...and it said the same thing: 2 lines = pregnant.
Cautious excitement. That's how I would describe my feelings.
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That was the post-script that I started to write on February 27th. But then I had those Wait, this may be premature feelings again.
I had some light spotting from Sunday through Wednesday. It wasn't red. It was intermittent. But it was a little disconcerting for this first-time pregnant girl. I googled and then googled some more (something no newly pregnant person should do). It was fine...it happens all the time. It was not good...I should go immediately to the ER! It was hard to tell...I should check with my OB. Except, I didn't have an OB yet.
So I finally broke down and called my sister on Tuesday. I told her I was pregnant...but barely. I told her that I was spotting...but barely. I told her that my only symptom (besides the positive pregnancy test) was occasional breast tenderness...but barely. And she said, "That sounds like both of my pregnancies." She told me about how she had that same spotting. She told me about how she never had any symptoms until her belly started showing, and then that was pretty much her only symptom. I felt better.
That same day, I went to my GP to get a referral to an OB. He did his own pregnancy test, which was positive, and I left his office feeling better. I was bordering on optimistic, in fact.
But then the very next day, out of nowhere, I discovered some bright red spotting. I called the OB to whom I was being referred, but since I wasn't technically a "patient" yet and since it was already 2pm, they couldn't get me in that afternoon. They sent me on to the ER. So I called HWSMFMS and made plans to meet him at his office.
I was anxious...but otherwise numb. I had absolutely no feelings one way or the other. Was it bad? Was it OK? I just didn't know.
And 5 hours later, I still didn't know. I peed in a cup. I had blood drawn from a very painful IV. I submitted to a very invasive and uncomfortable ultrasound (and I should mention that it was performed by two kind ladies who were "learning a new machine"). I did all of that to find out that I had gone to the wrong St. Joseph Hospital ER. You see, there are two -- St. Joseph and St. Joseph East. St. Joseph East is where they do obstetrical work. "We don't do babies at all here at St. Joseph," I was told. Little did I know. So the best the ER doctor could tell me was that the radiologist did see a gestational sac...but he couldn't see anything in it. He also saw "something" on my left ovary...but he wasn't sure what is was. It could be a cyst filled with blood. It could be an ectopic pregnancy. It could be something else altogether.
But I wasn't having any pain or cramping, so the best they could do was refer me to an OB for a follow-up in 48 hours. The OB would draw blood and compare the hCG levels to those in my blood at the ER. In the meantime, said the OB they called, it sounded like the unidentified object on my ovary was probably a corpus something-or-other that wasn't supporting the pregnancy.
I spent the next day on pins and needles. I waited for spotting to turn to bleeding. I waited for cramps that would double me over in pain. I waited for the doctor's office to call and set up an appointment. But there was no bleeding, or even spotting; no cramps; and no call from the doctor's office, despite the two messages I had left.
I'm not going to lie, I spent the better part of the day laying in bed, alternating between sleep and sobs. I just wanted to know. If I was pregnant, and this was just the sort of thing I could expect in my pregnancy, that was fine. If I was going to miscarry, and this pregnancy wasn't meant to be, that was fine(ish). I just wanted an answer of some sort.
I finally left a third message, but this one was pitched with anxiety and frustration. About half-way through, I began to cry. In the middle of leaving my name and number, I had to stop and try to collect myself because I couldn't speak. I broke down completely when I ended the call. But just 30 seconds later, the doctor's office returned my call and immediately set an appointment for the next morning.
HWSMFMS went with me to the appointment. We waited for over an hour to see the doctor, sitting in a room full of round bellies and toddlers. It was tortuous. When we were finally called back, I was relieved to hear that they were not just going to draw blood (as I had been told when the appointment was made), but that I would actually get to see the doctor. The doctor was incredible, especially considering that I had been "squeezed" into her schedule for the day. She listened and asked questions and explained things and asked if we had questions. It didn't hurt that she looked like an old college roommate of my sister, which put me at ease. She sent me down the hall for another ultrasound. The ultrasound tech was equally incredible. She pointed things out and explained what she was seeing. Afterward, we saw the doctor again.
And the answers we were waiting for? Well, they didn't come.
The doctor was blunt, but kind: Yes, as the ER ultrasound had indicated, there was a small gestational sac that appeared to be the appropriate size. Yes, as the ER ultrasound had indicated, there was a fairly sizable cyst on my left ovary, which looked to be filled with blood. (She explained that it was most likely harmless and would probably go away on its own.) But I'm too early in my pregnancy to really know much more than that, so the doctor had nothing more to offer. That is to say, at the beginning of the day, there had been 3 possibilities: Pregnancy, ectopic pregnancy, or miscarriage. At the end of the day, there were still 3 possibilities. That was somewhat deflating. She did say that it was unlikely that there was an ectopic pregnancy because she believed the mass on my ovary to be a cyst, but that was the best she could do. She apologized for not being able to tell me more, and suggested that I go the blood lab for some blood work, followed by another ultrasound in a week or so to see if the gestational sac had grown.
So I had blood drawn on Friday and then again on Sunday. If the pregnancy was progressing, my hCG levels should have increased by two-thirds. On Tuesday, I finally got word that the hCG levels had gone up an "appropriate" amount. It was a relief.
I followed up with the doctor on Friday, but first, I had another ultrasound...and the most amazing thing happened. There was a heartbeat. The ultrasound tech cranked up the volume, and little zig-zaggy line popped up on the screen. Then she closed in on the blurry little spot of lightness in the black splotch of the gestational sac...and I could actually see the fluttering of the what will be the baby's heart. It was an exciting feeling, but like no other feeling of excitement I had ever known before. It was 120 beats per minute of excitement. The doctor was happy with the ultrasound report and released me for 4 more weeks.
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And then I sat on this egg for 4 long weeks, desperate to share the news, but reluctant to take that chance...just in case. But yesterday, we went back to the doctor. The nurse had no luck picking up the heartbeat with the little hand-held doppler, so she sent me back to ultrasound. There was a heartbeat -- 177 beats per minute -- and then, there was movement. The baby flip-flopped and jumped all over the place. HWSMFMS, who is usually so quick with a witty comment, was speechless. Awestruck. Freaked out. If there was any question as to what was going on in my belly to that point, it was officially answered. We finally felt safe in sharing the news.
So here we are. 11 weeks down, 29 to go. And to think that I thought it wasn't going to happen...
