In February Steve and I decided that I could use my bonus from work, if we got one, for myself. I decided to move forward with laser hair removal of my underarms. I’ve always been self-conscious of the area and wanted to make it a clean slate. I paid for it at the beginning of March and had my first session that same day.
I also decided at the beginning of March to move forward with deviated septum surgery. I was tired of not being able to breathe correctly and I met my deductible, so why the heck not fix it. I scheduled that at the beginning of March to be done at the end of May.
On March 20th, I noticed some spotting and thought “Great! my period is coming early this month and it’s going to throw off my yearly gyno appointment next month”.
Then the spotting stopped.
Then the period never came.
Then I spiraled that I was dying and something was wrong with me because obviously there was no way I was pregnant. It had been 18 months with nothing, it’s more likely I’m dying than I’m pregnant.
I refused to take a test for 5 days because I was more afraid it would be negative and then I would really spiral that something was wrong with me because I am never that late.
I had a dentist appointment April 1st and I couldn’t remember if I was due for x-rays or not. I knew if I was pregnant I shouldn’t get them done, so I broke down and took a pregnancy test (from the dollar store, of course, because I’m not paying $8 for a fancy drug store one to tell me that I’m not pregnant).
Three minutes later, two lines were staring back at me, one of which was very dark.
Positive.
Pregnant.
Immediately I cried.
I’m not sure what kind of tears they really were; happy, sad, scared, shocked. All of them.
There went my septum surgery.
There went my laser hair removal.
Here comes 8 months of fear.
I never had “implantation bleeding” with any of my three other pregnancies. For the years that we struggled to conceive, I would always hope the start of my period was implantation bleeding, and it never was. I thought it was just an “infertility myth” we told ourselves to hold out hope each month. I never believed it was real. It was why I was in denial that I could even be pregnant because I had spotting. My period was coming…never did I think it was the illusive “implantation bleeding”.
I’ve never had a natural pregnancy outside of the fertility doctor. (Asher was natural but I just called my fertility doc when it was positive because I didn’t know what to do and they took care of all the initial ultrasounds and bloodwork). I sat on this information for a weekend pretending it wasn’t a thing and decided to call my OB/GYN first thing Monday morning (April 3, 2023). I called the office and explained to the person on the other end that I had a positive at-home test so I believe I needed to have bloodwork. Her response was that they won’t see me or do anything until 10-12 weeks. I explained to her that was simply unacceptable for someone who has struggled with infertility, had a first trimester miscarriage, a third trimester stillbirth, and a high-risk pregnancy with twins.
Even after unnecessarily having to share my medical history with her, she wouldn’t budge, said there was nothing she could do, and told me I could ask my family doctor to do bloodwork.
Yeah….no. I wasn’t haven’t that.
I ended that call and went on a message sending rampage in our online medical portal. I messaged several of the doctors at the practice advising of my phone conversation and stated how it’s simply unacceptable. I’ve heard the horror stories of women waiting until that 12 week appointment, only to find out their baby stopped growing weeks earlier or that a baby never even developed. I refused to experience that. I knew how early pregnancy worked. I knew the HCG levels should be doubling every 48 hours. I knew all of this and I wasn’t accepting their “typical protocol” for myself.
Absolutely not.
After my messages were sent , I had a full blown breakdown.
This was not okay.
This was not going to happen.
This was too much.
Thankfully, my doctor got back to me and was accommodating of my request for bloodwork. I asked them to check my HCG and progesterone levels and to repeat the HCG test in 48 hours.
I went that night to get the bloodwork and my HCG level came back at 10,111. For reference, at 4 weeks pregnant with twins my level was around 500. Here I was 5 weeks pregnant and the levels were over 10,000.
Cue ANOTHER anxiety spiral that there were multiple babies, that it was a molar pregnancy, that something was wrong.
I repeated the bloodwork a little more than 48 hours later and it was 20,325, doubled within 48 hours.
Two days later (April 8, 2023) I had light pink when I wiped while using the bathroom at an infant loss gala. I literally had no emotion and just thought “fitting. This tracks”.
Six days later (April 14th, 2023) I had an ultrasound at 6 weeks 5 days, which confirmed there was one baby in there with a heartbeat of 121 bpm.
Five days later I had my annual exam with my OB/GYN where my pregnancy dominated the conversation. I asked about the pink/brown discharge I had constantly since the night of the gala. The doctor didn’t seem concerned. I asked for another ultrasound before 12 weeks to help get me through the anxiety of this first trimester, she obliged.
The pink/brown discharge continued, with it peaking on April 28th after just returning home from purchasing a new car. My exact thoughts were “this tracks. This WOULD happen the day we buy a new car for this future baby.” (It was a purchase we were going to make eventually regardless of whether or not we had another living child, but not as soon as we did; however, we found a deal we couldn’t pass up.)
I called the on-call OB/GYN and she said if no pain, could just be some bleeding that happens, but since I’m a negative blood type, I need to get the RhoGAM injection within 5 days, so the office would call me on Monday.
Monday the office calls me and tells me I need to get the shot on day 3 (not day 5 like the doctor said) and that I need bloodwork beforehand to be done prior to getting the vaccine and that takes a few hours to process. I spent the afternoon running around to get the lab work done because I didn’t want to risk not getting the injection on Day 3 like it was recommended. I didn’t want to have any reason to blame myself for something going wrong with this pregnancy. I was able to get it all done in one day, but I was frantic the whole afternoon, on the brink of another emotional breakdown.
On May 3rd, I had my second first trimester ultrasound. Anxiety was high after having the increased bleeding on Friday night. The first thing the ultrasound tech did was show me the little beating heart and that sweet little gummy bear in there. Tears flowed freely.
As I type this, I am 15 weeks pregnant. We had our genetic testing and ultrasound with Maternal Fetal Medicine and all is well with baby. This time my health insurance covered the expensive testing because I’m of “advanced maternal age”. I’m currently only 34, but because I turn 35 while pregnant and will be that age when, hopefully, this baby is born, I am considered old. Quite frankly, I find it comical. If I’m a geriatric pregnancy, WTF was Janet Jackson when she had her baby at 50?!
Physically, this pregnancy has been the most challenging. The nausea is constant, sometimes peaking with me actually vomiting, and other times just gagging/dry heaving all over the house. With Asher and the girls, I would only get sick first thing in the morning, usually while eating breakfast or brushing my teeth, but then I wouldn’t have any nausea the rest of the day. I’ve popped way earlier and have been in maternity pants since 8 weeks. With the girls, it was 12 weeks and with Asher it wasn’t until like 19 weeks. I tried to resist breaking out the maternity clothes for as long as I could, but I’ve accepted my fate and realized I just want to be as comfortable as I can, while trying not to vomit all day.
Since finding out I’m pregnant, my emotions have been all over the place. When I was pregnant with the girls, a huge fear of mine was finding out I was sick and dying, while pregnant, that I would never be able to raise living children. Now with this pregnancy, I have that same fear but the reasoning behind it is different; I don’t want to leave my daughters motherless. I’m so acutely aware that pregnancy is a risk, that the mother could die for various reasons (and our country has an absolutely abysmal maternal mortality rate for a developed country) that I’m afraid I’m almost being negligent by being pregnant. We’ve all heard the stories of the mothers who are diagnosed with cancer while pregnant and I’m absolutely petrified of being one of them.
I think part of that is because this pregnancy came out of left field. Sure, we weren’t preventing a pregnancy for 18 months, but nothing happened in those 18 months, so I really thought it wasn’t a possibility for us. I moved forward with doing things for me; the laser hair removal and septum surgery, with the understanding that after my surgery we would meet with the fertility doctor to maybe try IUI one more time before finally throwing in the towel for any additional children. I was at peace with that plan and really thought that was the only option for us. I accepted that there was no way we would be bringing home a child in 2023. Now, here we are pregnant and it feels too good to be true, like the rug will be pulled out from under us in some way because things just haven’t ever been easy for us when it comes to starting and expanding our family. I know a few other friends who are pregnant literally within weeks of me, and it just feels like I will be the one for something to go wrong with the pregnancy because I have ALWAYS been THAT one. It’s very overwhelming and it’s a hard feeling to shake when it’s been your reality.
I’m cautiously optimistic we will bring this baby home in the fall, but I’m also overwhelmed with fear. The same motto applies to this pregnancy as it did with the girls, “one day at a time”. My doctor told me to focus on the fact that my body is capable of a successful pregnancy; that it’s already done double the work to bring twins into the world. It can do this and I’m going to try to hold onto that.
One day at a time.
Doggie Bags not Diaper Bags 