Post by webmom3 on Jan 13, 2012 23:00:41 GMT -5
Our kind of luck
Richard and I have always said that our luck, for a lack of a better word, tends to suck. If we plan something we always have to factor in ‘our luck’ and have a plan B. I think it started on our wedding day. It didn’t just rain, it monsooned. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen it rain that hard except 20 days after we moved into our new house and the hurricane hit and flooded it. See what I’m talking about?
Well, last Thursday I looked down at a little white test that showed a perfect pink +. Say what? Positive? A positive pregnancy test almost three YEARS after my tubes were tied. Here we go with ‘our luck’. Google it. The odds for a tubal ligation failing are 1/1000. Apparently, I’m the one. I immediately called the doctor, because, well…it’s our luck. I know it’s not a good thing or a safe thing to become pregnant after a tubal ligation and I wanted someone to put my mind at ease. The doctors saw me within the hour, ran labs, and did ultrasounds. Yep. I’m pregnant.
My mind just spun all afternoon. How does this happen? I mean, I know ‘how’ it happens but how did it happen this time?! We’re a family of 5, on purpose. I just sat on the couch and cried. I cried at the doctor’s when they asked about how Madi would react. I cried talking to Richard when I thought that I’d given away every bit of baby gear. I just cried. But then I did the one thing I knew I shouldn’t do. I accepted it, got excited, and even looked at Pottery Barn Kids nursery bedding.
That should’ve been enough of a warning for me.
Friday came and I got a phone call. My labs don’t look good. My hgc is low. “Come back Monday but assume that it’s ectopic” (meaning the baby is in my fallopian tubes). I get through the weekend, hardly able to stand or smell any kinds of food. Nauseous and exhausted. How can this pregnancy not be working when I’m this ill?
I go in on Monday for more labs and wait. Tuesday, another call from the doctor, this time they want me to come in for another ultrasound to find ‘something’ but my levels are poor enough that it highly suggests that it’s indeed ectopic. The week before , the ultrasound tech told me that this week I’d see a heartbeat. I was sick. I was sick at the thought that I was going to have to go to the doctor and look at my baby’s heartbeat and know that I’ll never hold that baby and in just a short while, I’d no longer be pregnant.
I tell my mom, not in the way I had hoped to. I had been thinking about interesting ways to break the news of another Blair on the way. This one would be a shock. But instead, I call her and try to choke out the news that I’m pregnant and I can’t have the baby and it’s dangerous and all the things you just don’t want to have to say when you’re thinking about the joy of a baby.
I go to the doctor after a morning of crying and apologizing to my baby. The ultrasound tech can’t find anything on the screen. Amen. My heart stopped breaking that instant because God had answered my prayer to not let me see my baby. I’m told there’s not an explanation and come back in the morning for more blood work.
I’m back on Wednesday, pricked again. It’s all very surreal to sit in a waiting room full of pregnant women and look at their bellies and realize, ‘I’m not going to get that.’ One lady said ‘this is going to be the longest week of my life’ and I just wanted to say ‘lady, you have no idea.’ I’ve spent this week, silently talking to my little boy, though no one can see him. I know it’s a boy. I called it right with the other three. So, whenever I think of this pregnancy, I’m going to believe I was having a little boy. I pray for him. I look at my Madi and wonder what kind of big sister she would’ve been. I think about what I might do on September 5th, my due date. I’m sure no one will even realize the significance of this day, and maybe that’s ok. Maybe it’s just for me and him. Richard has held on to me while I cried through this, but I think he looks at me like ‘I don’t know what to do.’ Who does?
My results come back on Thursday and my hgc is dropping but not quickly. Great. My body gets to keep thinking I’m pregnant. It’s an evil trick. I have to wait until next week to check again and then go from there with treatments to help my body and my baby give up the fight. Our luck. We were the people who couldn’t get pregnant. Two years we try and when we gave up, started looking at fertility doctors and did preliminary tests, bam…pregnant. Now, we did everything to prevent it and pregnant again, only to go through all of this and lose him.
I have found comfort in talking to my friends, each have a certain, unintended role. I have the friend who has gone through miscarriages, who understands my terms, my numbers, and the technicality of it all. I have the friend who is full of heart, talking to me through it from the view of a mom who loves her baby. Then there’s the friend who just brings me Bible verses and lifts me up in prayer. These ladies have no idea how much I’ve re-read their emails and notes and just reassured myself that I’m okay. He’s ok. And one day, I’ll get to see this baby. I’ve got an extra surprise waiting for me in Heaven.
And so here I am today. 6 weeks pregnant and won’t make it to 7. I had to have my pity party, ‘this is our luck’ thought, and then, I got to thinking and looked at my three, perfectly healthy, happy kids and made myself say ‘never again will I say ‘our luck’’ because our luck was to have 3 perfect babies, right here, right now.’ So with our luck, we may never win the lottery, we may run into more bumps than others do, but our luck…our luck is pretty good and for that I’m thankful.
Shew
for other mommy moments, that are hopefully much more joyful, follow my blog: adoseofmyreality.blogspot.com/
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