This post was supposed to be uplifting, which I hope it will be in some parts, even providing some humor in parts, but know it comes from my heart....which remains in just a few shattered pieces, but with my Dear by my side, there isn't anything that can't be survived.
The 30th of March started out like any other day, until I decided to pee on a stick. Low and behold to my amazement and joy, there were 2 lines! HOORAY..... HOLY COW.....CAN THAT BE RIGHT?.....JUST WAIT TIL I TELL DEAR!!!!! After the initial staring at the 2 lines, ALL DAY, feeling the butterflies of joy, the slices of fear and anticipating the arrival of Dear, I was able to finally show him! He was surprised, overjoyed, and then began to wrap his mind around this idea that we would be the parents to 3 darlings. It seemed to make up for the sadness from October, which tempered some of the excitement.
Time slowly slipped by, kind of like molasses in the Antarctic, until finally the 8th week was reached and I was able to go in for the first sonogram on the 28th of April. I held my breath as ultrasound tech began pressing on my very, very full stomach to try and find the heartbeat, indicating that all was beginning just right. Well, given that I consume water like I was traversing a desert, my bladder was too full, so I got to have the chance to pee, before I made a mess on the exam table. Upon returning, the tech continued and was able to show me the heartbeat. She even printed out pictures so I could show Dear. I think I looked like the Joker, a huge grin plastered across my face. I drove home quickly, excited to show Dear! We were so relieved and exhaled just a little bit, releasing some of the tension we'd both been holding.
Work picked up, but time passing seemed to slow down even more, as I waited for the next step, which was the nuchal translucency test. I had debated having it done, but given my age and the previous blighted ovum, I decided it was the right way to go. Dear was supportive either way, not wanting a repeat of the AFP test from when I was pregnant with my first, which sent me over the moon with fear that he was going to have Downs Syndrome, as it was a false positive. I scheduled the appointment, had the blood work drawn and had another ultrasound. Everything looked perfect. The baby was moving everywhere, the ultrasound tech had fun trying to keep up with it. It was wonderful. Again, I left smiling like the Joker, returned to work, and was excited to show off the few pictures she had also printed out for me. I was slowing releasing my fears into the wind, embracing this pregnancy with joy and great anticipation!!!!!
A week later the genetics counselor called with the results from the blood work. Trisomy 13 and 18 were at the higher end of normal, but still within the "normal" limits, and the risk for Downs was that of a 25 year old. I quietly rejoiced inside, continuing to listen but feeling distracted by my joy. A pregnant pause caught my attention again, as she began to explain that I had a low PAPP-A level. She explained that this is a hormone made by the placenta, only during pregnancy, which helped to keep the pregnancy continuing. She mentioned that if I should "Google" it, not to get caught up in the finer details, and just talk to my doctor at my next visit.
If you know how my brain works, this next part won't be a surprise in the slightest. I immediately "googled" what the PAPP-A level meant, what were some of the greatest risks, and perhaps, just maybe, began to perseverate a WEE bit. My roommate at school assumed the logical role and ordered me to close my computer and quit reading that shit. She said it wasn't going to do me any good reading about the worst case scenarios. I REALLY didn't want to listen to her, but knowing she MIGHT be right, I closed my computer and left it that way. I left it alone, even when I got home. I actually listened. I relayed to Dear the conversation, but neither of us was focusing on the negative, anticipating and positively looking forward to welcoming the baby in December.
I went for my next appointment the same week school concluded. I had lost 6 pounds, which was a huge bonus as far as the doctors were concerned, my blood pressure was a little high, but not anything to cause worry, and everything else was great. The nurse practitioner came in, we chatted, she whipped out the Doppler, and we heard the most amazing sound, at 153 beats a minute, the heartbeat. I even told her I felt it flutter across my belly. It was wonderful. I was on cloud 9. I loved telling Dear how great it was, how happy I felt, and scheduled the next round of appointments, taking me into September, confirming that we were okay to feel the joy we had been longing to feel. The sense of completion of our family wrapped itself around us. It was such an awesome feeling.
I took the order for my 20 week ultrasound home with me that day and waited to call for a bit, since I felt like time was on my side. I knew I had to have it done by the 20th of July. I knew I was also going to the Outer Banks on the 21st, so I thought it would be awesome if I could have it done before the beach, so I could maybe shop for some baby clothes....not that I haven't been saving the clothes from the first two kiddos but this one would NEED some new ones, right?!?!?! I called on Monday the 15th of July. Amazingly I was able to get an appointment for THAT day! I texted Dear, he was able to leave work and make it at that time, so it would be a family adventure. I would pick up my son from golf camp, come home and eat lunch, then head out for the ultrasound. I explained to the kiddos that we would be going on a secret mission to find out how the baby was growing. They were so excited. It was hard to keep them from bouncing all over the house in anticipation. I regretted giving them their assignment so early, but their joy was kind of invigorating. I loved it. I was enjoying every butterfly of anticipation. Have I mentioned I thought I was really floating on cloud 9?
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