We had a blue line. Now what?
Most OBs aren't really interested in seeing you until after you are 12 weeks. We had never discussed what would happen if I actually did get pregnant, so Hubbie and I were kind of at a loss as to how to proceed.
I told myself I wasn't going to let myself get excited about it until I had a blood test.
On Monday, I surreptitiously called my surgeon's office from my job. I couldn't even believe the words coming out of my mouth. It was such a shift in paradigm.
I was told to come in for a blood test the next day. They wanted to know exactly what my body was doing and how it was doing it. I was less than two months out of surgery. I went, and expected the results would take some time.
They called me the same afternoon of my blood work. Yes, I was pregnant.
My relief lasted as long as my exhale.
You need to come in for an ultrasound now.
What? Um, ultrasound? Is this the regular routine?
No. Apparently not.
My pregnancy hormone levels were...unusual. They wanted an ultrasound done. And they wanted it done now.
I called Hubbie. We made arrangements to meet.
The day I took that first blood test, I was 4w 4d pregnant. The HCG test levels have a wide span to account for the difference in women's bodies. The average HCG levels for a woman at 4w 4d gestation is anywhere from 5-500. My HCG levels? 12, 913.
The nurses asked me again about the date of my last period. April 1st. Absolutely no doubt about it.
Dr. Miracle came in. He asked about the date of my last period. Dude, I am not going to forget that April Fool's joke.
They asked if twins ran in my family.
We looked at the ultrasound monitor. There was something there. A tiny blip in my uterus. It was the correct size for the dates I had been telling them.
But what were those? Those giant circular things on the monitor?
Those were cysts. I was not even two months post-op, and the cysts were back with a vengeance.
I was to come back for blood work in two days and a follow-up ultrasound early the next week. I was to stop any strenuous exercise, especially anything that involved bending. As in not even tie my own shoes for risking these cysts to burst.
The days passed, and I had my second set of blood work done. My numbers were doubling appropriately, but don't forget that your progesterone was terribly low. Low to the point that it was a miracle that anything had even implanted. Did you fill that Rx for supplemental progesterone pills to add to the prenatal routine until week 14? Good girl.
We passed the weekend trying to pretend that everything was normal and numbly walked into our ultrasound appointment early that next week. I laid on the table, Dr. Miracle flipped the switch. We all waited for the image to stabilize.
The blip was still there. And its little heart was beating.
We had a baby in there.
Dr. Miracle congratulated us on a job well done. He joked that this was definitely a baby. Last week? Too early to tell. Now, we had a heartbeat. We had a baby in there. But...
But that given my condition and the circumstances, I had more of a chance of losing this baby as of keeping it. That we could tell people if we liked. However, it was his personal opinion that if I were his daughter, he would not tell anyone until after the 12th week.
We walked out of their with our heads spinning. We were pregnant! I had a baby in my belly! I had low progesterone! I had cysts in danger of rupturing if I weren't careful! And if they continued to grow in size like before there was the possibility of surgery while I was pregnant. If I hadn't already lost the baby, that is.
We could have cried, but we chose to laugh. No matter the outcome, this meant that I could get pregnant. In spite of it all, at least I had been able to manage that.
Now, we had another countdown. Another window to get through. Five weeks down, seven to go.
Monday, September 22, 2008