Sunday, October 7, 2012

Two Tennesse Texans and a...Texan?

Say WHAT??

Well, that's pretty much what our response to the ER doctor  was when he told us we were pregnant. Oh, it wasn't that we weren't trying, we were. It's just that was the second visit to the emergency room for ovarian cysts and 2 blood test at LEAST 4 urine tests, an ultra sound and a CT scan from doctor's offices and let's not forget to mention Stephen and I could buy stock in Target's "up and up" brand just because of the number of pregnancy tests I'd used.

So you can imagine that while I was writhing in pain from bursts ovarian cysts and they asked me if I was pregnant I shot them several dirty looks. We had been trying and I had already resigned myself that to go through this much pain, there's no way I've held on to a baby (not to mention this is two weeks post menstrual. <if that grosses you out, you may not want to read for the next nine months - or - ever.>) I had grieved over this "not being our time" and we weren't going to try till later after Christmas, because who wants to be in the final trimester of pregnancy in the dead of a Texas summer in hundred degree heat? So amidst my pain and our frustration at no one really taking my abdominal pain seriously, I think we both blinked and let our mouth hang for a little bit when the ER doc dropped the baby bomb.

Naturally, we were both a little scared because pain and pregnancy this early in the game are not good things. So as we were wisked off for yet another round of ultrasounds, we were told that a blood level would be run.

<Fyi, I'm leaving out a lot of detail about what Friday night/Saturday morning looks like in the BSA ER, like the shirtless guy that got beat up in the parking lot because he was running a way from people "he didn't know why" were chasing him, the cop detail that surrounded him, and the stabbed lady that was later intebated when we got back from ultra sound. If you want to hear about that exciting bit you'll have to ask, there is way too much else to tell.>

It took forever to hear back from anyone, as you might imagine in the ER at that time of day, so in the mean time prayers were said, Fernando Ortega tried his best to lull me into an ER room sleep, and we waited, somewhat impatiently to hear the confirmation of this so called "pregnancy".

The Doc came out and told us our  hCG level (pregnancy hormone) was a 99 <Great, out of a 100, right?> To which we were clueless what that meant. We were explained that it was a low number which could mean I was miscarrying, so we wanted the number to grow. By the way, this girl who was two weeks late was only 2 weeks pregnant, explain that - especially given the ban from sex we'd been put on since all this cyst stuff started? <Don't worry, I will.>

Now, stop right there because a girl dreams about things when she's little - one is getting married. After that, she dreams about how she's going to drop the baby news to her parents and suprise the heck out of them that they're finally getting grandbabies. Now forget all that because I ended up freaking out and calling my mom and laying it all out there. If anyone knows what becoming a mother is like and the emotional rollercoaster, it's And at the end of the day, this new mom just needed her mommy. <Yep, totally feeling capable of raising my own child, why do you ask?>

As any good mom would do, my mom kept calm and told me a bunch of things I can't remember that seemed to comfort me and offered prayers, and because that meant so much, Nancy and Jim were soon called in on the prayer chain as well.

By Monday, the number of our hCG (which we later found out would be in the hundreds of thousands by full much for 100...) had jumped to 321.4. We felt a little more confident exchanged hugs and tentative congrats with each other but still felt mostly too scared to be excited. We weren't really sure what that meant and the whole 2 weeks pregnant thing freaked us out a bit.

Tuesday morning, we arrived at our new OBGYN office (which is another store in itself), to a friendly new NP who threw all kinds of "swag" at us immediatly. Pre-natal vitamin samples, a tri-mester by tri-mester journal, FitPregnancy magazine and a whole other host of "welcome to Parenthood" propaganda. Like it was just assumed we new we were having a baby and everything was going to be ok.

Through the course of the apointment, we were assured that my ovarian cysts were likely just an unfortunate event that occured right around the time I was supposed to find out I was pregnant. Since the pain was subsiding, the risk of a tubal pregnancy was down and by all accounts, we are 6 weeks into a healthy pregnancy.

What? Six weeks, yes. OH, yeah you see, the medical community measures to the point of conception or something like that. The REST of the world including the OB world measures pregnancy from the date of your last missed period, August 20th. Which if you do the math, by the time this hits the world-wide-web, we are 7 weeks along.

I think it took us a couple days to really soak it in, and I'm not entirely sure it has at this point. After talking about when to tell everyone you always hear "wait till 12 weeks to make sure you don't niscarry". Well, quite frankly, my baby has lived through radiation and narcotics for pain at this point, so I'm pretty sure he/she is as strong as ever, but I also just can't seem to understand the reasoning. If I miscarry this child, I certainly don't want to have to grieve about it by my lonesome. What's the need for secrecy, especially since miscarraiges are so common, we're talking 20% of all pregnancies!

Now that all the excitement is starting to settle in, we're getting used to the idea, and Stephen is doing fall youth gathering next weekend, we have decided to tell the congregation. Because I just couldn't wait any longer.

I'm not sure what that will be like. I do know from my wrist problems that everyone and their uncle from tim-buk-tu has a cure for this or that. I'm not terribly looking forward to that part, or the judgement that may come from choosing this over that, the rolled eyes when we mention cloth diapering or any other thing people may find naive. I am NOT at all looking forward to the fact that suddenly people feel it's ok to touch a pregnant womans belly because when I got pregnant my personal bubble seemed to just dissapear. But mostly, I'm really looking forward to this incredibly supportive congregation that loves us, cares for us and will be JUST as excited as we are.

And so as the chaos of the baby annoucnment is about to insue, I have three things to say.

2. Sorry Mr. Cat, you're about to become a little less cute in this house hold!
3. May 27, 2013.

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