Speak to My Heart...

4.18.2014

I am now home, but I must tell you, that same nurse, she was also there when I woke up in recovery.  She had stayed with me in the OR until they began, and then she had gone back to work.  But she was there when I woke up in recovery.

I don’t know how I can ever repay her kindness!  She did not have to do any of what she did! 

But I digress. I am home, and now the hard part begins…the emotional healing.  We are watching Elmo in Grouchland, and Frozen…two movies to help me laugh.

I find that I do not want to watch anything serious…nor do I want to read anything serious…I have not even watched the season finale of Scandal at this point…I’m not ready to return to the grown up world yet.  I just want to be surrounded by silliness.  Gaudy, over-the-top, silliness.

I can’t help but think that this is the week of Easter…a time of renewal, and here I am, mourning a loss. And I wonder if this is how Mary felt—losing her child—only she had him from birth until adulthood, so she had a stronger bond with him, but I feel like the loss of a child, is the loss of a child.

I have decided to not forget her.  Yes, her.  I don’t know, but I have this feeling, the baby was a girl.  And for me to move on, I feel I need to establish a connection so I don’t feel like I am mourning a void, a nothing.

So I have named her Hannah.  Why Hannah?  Because you must remember, I was told that I would never, ever get pregnant, but I did.  So for that reason, I call her Hannah, because in Hebrew, Hannah means, “grace,” or “favor,” and I believe that God used her to show me both in that I can indeed get pregnant. 

Does this make things easier?  In a way. Does it take away the pain? Nope.  Not at all.  Not in the slightest.  I also purchased a birthstone for the month of November, to go in my locket that I wear. In this locket, is Matthew’s birthstone—which we share for March—and now Hannah’s. Both of my children, in my heart locket, close to my heart forever…Speak to my heart, Holy Spirit. Message of love, give me the words, that will bring new life…

The Greatest Test...

4.17.14

Today is the day.  I am ready.  I have cried my last cry. I have packed my bag for the hospital complete with magazines and snacks to keep my husband busy and occupied.  

This will be my 4th D&C in my lifetime, so I know what to expect.  I have placed all needed items right by my bedside—crackers, ginger soda, the remote, my nightgown, my favorite fuzzy slippers and socks.  The DVD player has been loaded with my favorite movie to make me laugh—Major Payne, and my laptop and iPad are within reaching distance. 

 I am as ready as I can be.

I have dressed in sweats—and the weather outside is cooperating in making sweats a feasible option as it is freezing out there. The cold however, is oddly refreshing for me, and oddly matches my numbness at this moment.

We parked in the parking lot, and Tommy and I walked in to the hospital.  I was trying to be upbeat, almost silly in my behavior.

When I arrived at the hospital, and arrived at the check in desk, I was appalled when I saw my check in paperwork.  They had listed for my visit: Missed Abortion.

I was livid!!!!  I began to cry—I didn’t mean to, it just happened.  Huge tear drops rolling down my face as I asked the woman with a quavering voice how could they code it in that fashion?  To say a Missed Abortion, says I am here willingly. Says I am electing to have this surgery.  Says I gave up.  That is opposite of the truth: I FOUGHT THIS!  I got a second opinion!  I did not give up until I saw…with my own eyes, the tears of all involved!  I did not give up, until I saw with my own eyes, that there had been no growth!

A missed abortion put such a nasty taste in my mouth…made me feel as if I would choke on my own vomit…choke on my own bile…

She assured me that this was not indicative of my journey, but that it was the universal coding for the medical industry for what was happening to me. I do not agree with this wording.  I know it is only words, but words are powerful.  Words can move people to love…to riot…to hate…words are powerful, and to have those words on my admittance papers…in my darkest hour…moved me to anger.  

Moving past that, and getting in the bed and having everyone help me to prepare, I realized why my continuing to blog is so important as I go through this storm…I am not alone.  I FELT alone….I FELT like I am the only one going through this, but I am not.

I mean, I read the statistics…I know that more than 20% of all known pregnancies end up in miscarriage during the first trimester, but I have never had faces to put with that number.

In my room, I learned I was not alone.  There was an hour time frame between when I was taken back to prep for surgery, and when Tommy could come back and be with me, and my nurse told me that she had 4 children—but had miscarried 4 times.  She looked at me with tears brimming in her eyes, and she told me, “I love all four of my children, but the 4 I lost…I will never forget…and you will never forget this one, either.”  

Then, the nurse who did my IV—she also told me her story—she had miscarried twice in her journey to have 3 beautiful children.  

Their stories inspired me to continue to write.  The elder of the group with 4 grown children now, told me she too, felt alone when going through—despite what the statistics say; because no one speaks about it.  Women push it to the backs of their minds, and they never address it again. They suffer in silence because they know that society expects them to move on. To not whine about it, but just get up, and keep going as if nothing happened. She told me she wished she knew then—that she was not alone—what she knows now…

So, I will continue to write, continue to talk about my experiences.  I once saw a quote on Facebook that said, "One of your greatest tests is when you are able to bless someone else while you are going through your own storm."  And so, that is what I will do, try to be a blessing to others.

I was wonderfully taken care of, by an excellent staff.  I was even visited by a good friend of mine I have not seen in ages—she is an OR nurse there at the hospital.  I asked if she was working today, and they found her for me.  It was awesome to see her again…but not under these circumstances…

We caught up briefly, and then she had to leave—she was at work—and I understood that.  I was just so grateful to see her again.   I saw her again right before they came to roll me away…she volunteered to go over my charts and vitals one last time prior to going in to the OR.  She introduced me to the CRNA (Certified Registered Nurse Anesthetists), and told me he was awesome.  And then, she was gone.  

As Tommy walked back out to the waiting room, I said a silent prayer for a successful surgery.  

The gentleman clicked the bed, and we began to roll. We turned a corner, and I saw the sign for the OR.  All of a sudden, something fell off the shelf inside me, and broke…I think it was my heart as I began to cry deeply.  

The gentleman stopped, and he placed his hand on my back and assured me it was ok, and it was going to be ok.  I—like I always do—apologized for my tears, and urged him to move forward.

We entered the OR, and my cheeks were covered with fresh tears again. The nurse who was there, heaped warm blankets on me, and wiped my tears away.

The surgical tech was there, too, and he told me, “It’s ok.  God does not make mistakes.  You will be ok. I promise. I’ve done this for many years, and we’re going to take care of you.”

He and the others helped me to scoot on to the operating table, and then had me lay back.

Once down, who did I see smiling above me?  The nurse who I have known for a long time I mentioned earlier!  She came back! And she held my hand, and assured me again it would be ok.  She wiped away my tears, and she talked to me, and held my hand, until I fell asleep…….

Take Me To The King...

4.16.14 8:26 am

I said I was ready, but I'm not. I'm headed to my second ultrasound, and I'm n tears. I'm so afraid.  So much for acceptance of whatever? No. I disagree. My mind has made peace. It's my heart that is closed minded. It is my heart that only wants to hear good news today come hell or high water. 

My mind is prepared. My mind is logical---you do not want this on your terms, but on god's.  My heart wants no part of that statement. My mind agrees that based on today's visit though, a second opinion may be warranted. My heart is in agreement on that, but still holds out that today will be the day we see another miracle, another blessing. 

My mind is racing...trying to rationalize with my heart. Telling my heart: can we truly afford this?  We didn't know we could get pregnant, so we never took out short term disability. What if we're put on bed rest? But all of this is to say that it is to no avail. My heart wants what it wants, and right now, it wants more than anything, to think that in 9 months, there will be a tiny human being emerging.  

My heart does not want to be rational. It does not want to think that we can try again. It does not want to let go now. 

I was so hungry upon leaving the house a while ago.  I told myself I would go and get breakfast as a treat...i have not eaten a bite. My appetite appears to have flown out the window when I rolled it down to place my order at the speaker. 

I'm here now.  Sitting in the parking lot. Looking at the building. Trying to muster the courage to go in. Trying to see if we can have the test done with me still in the car. 

Of course I know better. But I cannot help it. Before going in, however. What I will do, what I can do, is pray.....

Dear God, just because I don't understand your plan, does not mean I don't trust it...

4.16.14 10:00 AM

It is over. There is no growth. There is no need for a second opinion. No growth is pretty clear--no growth. 

My heart is torn to pieces. My mind is numb. It feels nothing. It has allowed my heart to take over: allowed my heart to begin to go through its grieving process. 

For me, this is much more than just a miscarriage. This is a why? Meaning, I was told never....but God said yes, but then he said no? 

This was my miracle, and now it's gone? Just like that? 

The doctor I saw today was so nice. So genuine. The ultrasound tech hugged me. The LPN hugged me. The doctor hugged me. 

So I had three options: 1. Continue and see if my body realizes what is happening and lets go on its own. 2. Take pills that would MAKE my body wake up and let go. Or 3. Have a D&E where I go to sleep, and wake up and everything is done. 

She explained that the pregnancy had progressed to 8 weeks, and then just stopped. No additional growth at all.  

I asked her why did my body not "abort" on its own. And she said sometimes the body does not want to let go, either. That made me cry again. 

I asked her for her opinion on what option I should choose. And she was frank with me: a D&E. She explained that she tried for a year or so to get pregnant, and she has twin two year olds, and could not imagine suffering a miscarriage while chasing them. 

She said with a D&E, I'll go to sleep, she would be the one taking care of me, and she would make sure I'm ok. 

I agreed to the D&E knowing my kid, his energy levels, and knowing what I have heard from others who have lived through miscarriages---I wanted this to be quick and easy without ripping out my heart, without dragging everyone else down my road of misery.

The D&E has been scheduled for tomorrow, April 17, at 2PM. "Take me to the King, I don't have much to bring. My heart is torn in pieces, it's my offering. Lay me at the throne...leave me there alone...."

The Potter's House

Sunday, 4.13.14

I have let to go…I am numb, but I have to let go. I just can’t continue to think about it…dream about it…obsess about it.  So I have to let go.  I prayed about it, and I have left it in God’s hands.

If this is meant to be, it will happen on its own, with God’s help. I do not want this if it is not ordained by God himself.

My attitude…was this easy to come by? No. It is NOT easy…WAS not easy to come by…when is it EVER easy when it comes to this? How could coming to a conclusion such as this ever be done lightly, or easily? What parent does NOT fight against, rally against, pray against the worst possible odds for their child? Even when logically, they know them to be true?

 But if it is not His will, then it will not be. And if not this one, then I know the next one.  

I don’t really want to go to church today.  I don’t really want to face the people there.  No.  It’s not because they are not nice…it’s because they are.  Does that make sense? Sometimes, you just can’t handle the niceness, and the goodness of people when you are preparing for your personal storm.

Right now, everyone coming up to me with well wishes and congratulations.  I don’t know if I can handle that right now.  How will I keep from crying when the well-intentioned people come up to wish me well, and I don’t even know if things are going well?  

I am trying to remember that life and death lie in the power of one’s tongue. But at the same time, I am also conflicted with knowing that whatever God’s will is, is what will transpire.

So I am stuck…should I continue to speak life, until God says otherwise?  Is that how this works?  I speak life, and then what?  Because I have to be honest with you…to speak life, and then it happens to not be God’s will…I think I will be crushed again.

That is where some of my confusion lies. I understand that the Bible says the power of life and death lie in the tongue…but how do you speak life, if God says no?  Then, am I not just bugging the bejesus, out of God?

And so it was decided—I was not going to go to church today.  But I had a dream last night…it was not a defined dream…per se…you know? It wasn’t like a dream where I could see people…it was a song from my childhood that kept playing over and over in mind during the night.  It was a song I woke up signing, and I do understand what it means.

I may get in to a lot of trouble for doing this due to copyright laws, but I pray that if this is ever seen, the responsible party will understand how much solace I found in these lyrics:  

In case you have fallen by the wayside of life; 
dreams and visions shattered, you’re all broken inside. 
You don't have to stay in the shape that you're in; 
the potter wants to put you back together again, 
oh, the potter wants to put you back together again. 

In case your situation has turned upside down, 
and all that you've accomplished, is now on the ground. 
You don't have to stay in the shape that you're in; 
the potter wants to put you back together again, 
Chorus: 
You who are broken, stop by the potter's house. 
You who need mending, stop by the potter's house; 
give Him the fragments of your broken life, 
my friend, the potter wants to put you back together again, 
oh, the potter wants to put you back together again 

There is healing in the potter's house. 

You'll find everything you need in the potter's house. 

And so with that song in my dreams, that song on my lips, that song in my heart, I got up this morning, I prepared my child and myself for church, and we went (This was Tommy’s weekend to work at the hospital).  

Once there, I immediately sought out my pastor—who is everything you could ever ask for, including accessible.  He immediately took me in to his office, and he prayed with me, and he prayed for me.  

Rain or shine…win or lose, I am better.  And even though my mind is still logical, and prepared for anything…my heart and my soul, are bracing for the realities, and the harshness of life.  “…give Him the fragments of your broken life…Because the Potter wants to put you back together again…”

Tantalus and Sisyphus…

4.10.2014

This morning, my thoughts are all over the place. 

On the one hand, I am still numb…I feel like Tantalus, with my greatest desire hanging just beyond my reach. Every time I reach for it, the wind blows it just out of my grasps once again….but mine is worse…I actually GOT my desire…and now they are trying to take it away.

After speaking with a teacher here at my school that is also pregnant—she made some really good points that have me honestly very confused. 

She said that she could not understand why I was not classified as high risk considering they never thought I would get pregnant, my age, and my hard to control blood pressure.  She was also shocked that the first thing they didn’t do, was check my blood for hCG levels when they took my blood work at the confirmation appointment.  She said considering my irregular cycles, my history with dysfunctional uterine bleeding, they would have wanted the blood work up front to see what they were working with.

She also advised that depending on what the doctor said at my next ultrasound, I needed to seek a second opinion. That is, if the new ultrasound next week, shows no growth in the yolk or gestational sacs. 

I think I agree.  Why did she not do the blood work for hCG levels up front?  Why all of that blood work, not to test for that while you’re draining my veins?

Also, why a pap smear?  It’s not like mine was out of date.  I had one the previous year, and according to my primary, they are only needed every 3 years now…so why now that I am pregnant?  I mean, in all honesty, I did not start spotting until after that pap.  Seriously.  I was more than fine up until that point.  Why a pap on a high risk person? 

I have all of these questions.  I am now wondering did they ever seriously think I would carry at all.  I am now thinking I need a second opinion.  The teacher I work with said with all of her babies, heartbeats have not been heard until 10-12 weeks, and the fetal pole was not visible until then either for her.  Why is my doctor so quick to terminate?

I have asked my co-worker for her doctor’s information. I am going to try and schedule an appointment for next week.  If I don’t like what the 2^nd ultrasound says, I’ll go for a second opinion prior to making a final decision.  If I go back, and this new ultrasound shows more promise, I can always cancel.

I only know that I am not ready to give up without a fight.  I have waited for this so long…and to get this far to feel like the medical team I am working with, has already thrown up their hands on me and my child, makes me feel like Sisyphus: continuously rolling a boulder up a hill, only to have to roll it back down the hill, and start over again the next day—futile.

I feel like the line from the song by Marvin Sapp, He Has His Hands on You, “Sometimes you feel so alone, like a child lost with no home. They keep telling you to be strong, but you say when will it end? When will I win…”

When WILL I win?  

The Approaching Storm...

4.8.14

I took the day off. Even though nothing was final, I needed time to process things on my own prior to being forced to face the world.

I woke up the next morning, still very tired from the crying the night before, and I fell to my knees and I prayed.

I spent the day watching kiddie shows--no, Matthew was not home with me, but I needed an outlet to escape reality...escape the grown up world with all of its looming problems and issues and sadness...

My husband---lovely man that he is---approached me after I woke up the next morning. He had been up all night, and he gave me his theory: the doctors are wrong. He had calculated things, and said my cycle does NOT follow the perfect 28 day cycle, and that I needed to go back and read the notes I took when we were trying.

He was right: I have my cycle every month, but never the same time each month.  For instance, last July, my cycle happened the first week, but the next cycle came on at the END of August, then the next one, came in the middle of September, and so on.  So some months, my cycle was 33 days, some months it was 22 days, etc.—but rarely did it fit the mold of a typical 28 day cycle.

Then I pulled out the app and looked at the notes I taken there within the app: March 2nd was when I first had cramps outside of my cycle. According to what I read, that should have been implementation cramping since it was exactly within the 6-12 day window of when it should happen. March 5th was the first home pregnancy test I took. March 7th was the primary care doctor where she did a pregnancy test. March 9th was my first actual missed period IF my cycle went according to plan.

According to his count, I was 5 weeks, 1 day, and from what he had found on the internet, that would make what they found on the ultrasound correct for that time frame.

He had read the stories of other women online stating that 5 weeks, 4 days they were told there was no fetal pole either, but when they went back at 6 weeks, there was the beginning of the baby.

That gave my heart hope. Precious and frail, but still hope none-the-less. If his calculations were right considering I don't have a typical 28 day cycle, then things would make sense--I was 5 weeks 1 day, and therefore nothing would have been seen for me either if it was not seen for the woman who was 5 weeks, 4 days on the internet.

This gave me hope, but cautious hope. I had already begun the process of mentally detaching; of hoping for the best, but preparing for the worst—I had to… In my mind, I accept that my blessing here, was that God worked a miracle, and allowed me to become pregnant—I had already defied the odds.  Already proved that God has the final word, not the doctors.  Maybe not this time, maybe next time…but in my heart, I wanted it to be this time so bad.  In my heart, I was NOT ready to let go just yet, and so my husband’s words…spoke directly to my heart, and gave it hope and comfort.

Truth be told, my mind knew that my husband was reaching.  My mind knew the worst was yet to come. My mind knew that without uncertainty, the storm was approaching, and I did not know how long the winds would blow, and the rains would fall. 

But even still, I tried to prepare my heart…I began to build the walls that would hopefully protect me from my worst fears….but now, I had to make it through a week before I could find out anything else…but even with that, my poor heart was not ready to give up the fight yet… 

It Ain't Over Until God Says it's Over

Ultrasound  4.7.14

Sometimes, even though we try our best to do all the right things, the wrong things happen.

Not because you are a bad person. Not because you don’t deserve happiness. Just because…well, I don’t honestly know why. Maybe GOD SAYS NOT YET. Not right now. Not this time. Who knows why the things that happen to us, happen.

Today, I had my ultrasound. They found the gestational sac, and the yolk sac, but no fetal pole.  I had no clue what that meant…it means they did not see the fetus…they did not see the baby.

I hopped up off the table, got dressed, all happy…all unaware, and I was happily led to the exam room where my doctor would come in to see me…She came in, and stupid me: I was so excited. I thought seeing the gestation and yolk sacs was a big to do. I feel so stupid now looking back. I was so naive.

I also recognize things more looking back.  Maybe the spotting was more than anyone realized. Maybe when I woke up and realized there was no more morning sickness…no more sore boobs…I should’ve known? I was happy thinking I could eat…maybe those were warning signs? When did things go wrong? More importantly, WHY?

Maybe I knew more in my spirit than I let on…maybe that was why a part of me was so reluctant to tell my story. Maybe the same part that felt that this was coming.  This was me…a dream deferred.

My doctor said we’ll do another ultrasound in a week…but her face held no hope in it. Not one sign.  My heart sank.  

I held it together while scheduling the next ultrasound. I held it together while going down in the elevator. I held it together while I walked what seemed a mile to my car.  And then, once inside my car…once the door slammed shut with a thud…I stopped holding on, and I let go.  A deep, but still high-pitched…wail…

I don’t know what has ever hurt so much to compare it to. Did I get too cocky? Feeling myself too much for defying the odds?

Did I cross someone? Do some unknown evil that I was now being repaid for in the worst possible way?

Now I would have to face those sad faces.  Now, I would have to hear the sorry's that were coming.  Now, I would be surrounded by the many pregnant women at my job, knowing that my baby would not play amongst theirs.

I cried. I cried for I don’t know how long in the parking lot. I cried for every dream and hope I had tied up in this child—for the name I had already given this child. For the future I had planned for this child.

I cried. And when I got home to Matthew, even though I tried not to, I cried in front of him.  I cried when he wanted to see favorite episode of Yo Gabba Gabba—Baby.

He was so sweet. He climbed in to my lap and pointed to my face. Then he took his finger and wiped away a tear (like I do to him), and said, “Mommy crying.” And he laid his head on my shoulder and patted my back.

I hugged him to me. I hugged him to me, and I rocked him close. I did what I had not been able to do in weeks—I picked my baby up and I cradled him in my arms, and despite my best efforts, I cried more.

My heart was breaking. But he did not understand. My soul was shriveling up, but he would never know the sickness I felt within.

And that night, instead of putting my baby to bed alone; I was selfish—VERY selfish—and I held my child close to me, and while he drifted off to sleep, I cried myself there…after you’ve done all you can…you just….stand……

Be Grateful...

Monday, March 31, 2014

This morning…this weekend…I was been terrified.  I had my first ob appointment last Thursday, and even though she advised of spotting, I was not aware that it could last so long…right?  I’m afraid…and I don’t know what to do, so I have just been praying. 

I’m worried because it did not begin Thursday…it started Saturday night, and it’s still happening. I have told no one.

I suffered in silence, because I do not want to let anyone around me know I am afraid.  I do not call the doctor, because I know there is nothing they can do…if it is not meant to be…it just isn't.  This is my worst possible fear coming to fruition?  Isn't it?

So I begin to think what I am grateful for, to try and ease my mind: 

I am grateful for my husband, who puts up with my shenanigans. 

I am grateful for my son—who keeps me smiling, and keeps me in stitches laughing at him on a daily basis.

I am grateful for God using me to shut the doctors up—this pregnancy, no matter the outcome, is a miracle—it was never supposed to happen, and yet it did.  I will always be grateful for that.

I am grateful for the family I was born in to…for all of their love, and their support.

I am grateful that even though there is spotting, there are no cramps.

I am grateful I woke up this morning.

I am grateful for a reasonable portion of health and strength.

I burst in to tears, and I don’t know when I stopped crying… 

I am grateful for my guidance counselor, who came barging in to my office, and forced me to talk about what was bothering me when she found me in tears, and then forced me to call my ob’s office to tell them what was going on. 

I was a blubbering mess.  I was sobbing all over the place, and my face was tear stained.  However, the nurse was VERY responsive, and extremely gentle, and patient with me.  While I was hysterical, she matched my hysteria with her calmness. She explained that some women are “bleeders,” and that it sounds like I am one (leave it to me to be so ‘special.’), but that nothing I described to her, sounded alarming.

 She said if I had menstrual cramps, then she would have me come in immediately, but with those being absent, she was not concerned.  She was however, concerned that I had not had a decent bowl movement in weeks, and told me to go on my lunch break, and pick up some Colace (a stool softener), and for me to relax.

I informed her that I did not want to be a bother, and she assured me that I was no bother, and that they were there to get me safely through my pregnancy…that made me feel better in all honesty.

Sometimes, I think we as human beings, just need someone to validate us.  We just need someone to validate our concerns, our fears.  We just need someone to listen, and to understand without passing judgment…we need to not be ignored…we just need someone to tell us, that we are not crazy…well, crazy yes, but not stupid…

I am grateful for my doctors and nurse….and I will be grateful no matter the outcome… “God has not promised me, sunshine. That's not the way it's going to be. But a little rain, mixed with God's sunshine.
A little pain, makes me appreciate the good times! Be grateful…Be grateful—Walter Hawkins…”

My Happy Place

When I first scheduled my appointment with my ob, it was while I was sitting in the parking lot of my primary care doctor.  I was so excited.  They asked me for the first day of my last period, and I told them, and they estimated when 6 weeks would be, and made my appointment.

To be honest, I don’t really understand how they estimated that for me though—my periods are not regular like that. I mean, I have one every month now, but still: one month, it may come the first of the month; the next month, it may come at the last of the month; so I am not really sure how they determined my dates. I mean, I have NEVER had a normal, 28 day cycle, and I have been irregular since the 6th grade, and had difficulties with my cycles since the 6th grade. 

I insisted who I would see first.  I understand that when pregnant, they make you see all of the doctors in the practice. I didn’t get that at first, but the receptionist was kind enough to explain to me that when you go in to labor, your particular doctor may not be “on call,” so every doctor needs to know who you are, and be familiar with your individual needs in order to ensure your safety, and the safety of your baby.

That made sense.  However, because I have had sooooo many issues with dysfunctional uterine bleeding, and abnormal paps, and intense, extremely irregular menstrual cycles that had landed me in the emergency room over the years, I really wanted to begin this journey with her.

When I went in to see her, I was led to have my vitals taken.  I knew my blood pressure was high (I had asked the nurse at school to take it prior to my going in), and it was one of the major things I had on my list to speak with my ob about. 

You see, I had refused the labetalol, and was only taking the methyldopa.  Why you may ask.  Well, when I went to the pharmacy to pick it up, I asked the pharmacist was it safe to take when pregnant.  He gave me this weird expression, and said, “It depends.  This medication is in Class C.” 

Um, ok?  I asked him what in the world does that mean?  Can he please speak in layman’s terms!

He explained to me that labetalol, is a medicine in which the doctor has to weigh the risks to the baby, versus the benefits because there is no real research to support any findings on it.  When I heard that, it was –and excuse me language—HELL NAW!  I was NOT going to do ANYTHING to endanger my child’s life willingly!

Now, I love my primary, but I was only taking that medicine, if my ob approved it!

So, I digress…the LPN took my blood pressure, and made a smart comment—“Umph.”

“What does that mean?” I asked her.

“Your blood pressure is really high.”

“I know. I have had the school nurse monitoring it.  I am on meds for it, though.”

“Well, it’s obvious you didn’t take them today.”

“EXCUSE ME? Did you REALLY just try me like that? Like I’m some ignorant, uneducated woman who just fell off the turnip truck and doesn’t understand what my blood pressure means? How dare you ASSUME that I did not take my meds today! In fact, Nasty, it’s the FIRST thing on my list to speak with my doctor about today, so I would love for you to run back and crawl up under whatever rock you came from, and not assist me again.” 

I could not believe her nerve.  I was spitting fire. I was spitting nails. I was trying to calm down so I would not push my blood pressure further over the brink…

And now I’m back to my happy place.  LOL.  I was then led by another LPN who overheard the conversation and came to rescue her from me, to a room.  I walked, and I thought I was going to have an ultrasound done that day because that’s what people told me would happen.

Nope. I walked in, and the room was set up for a pap smear.  Um, huh?  I don’t need nor want a pap people, I want to know how far I am, when I’m due, what sex is the baby, you know, the usual!  I mean, chop, chop, people!

When the ob walked in to the room, she beamed at me, and she hugged me.  She was so happy! She was grabbing me and laughing…while I was grabbing at the sheet they give you to cover up with, trying to keep my modesty intact. 

But sure enough, when the hugs stopped, I got a pap smear that day! Shocked my pants off—literally!  The ob did my exam, and said everything looked good.  She explained that I would have labs that day, and then the next visit—when I am 8 weeks, would be when she would do the ultrasound, and do the measurements, and get an exact due date, but so far, the preliminary due date is November 15^th. 

She changed my blood pressure pill to Procardia XL, which is a time released tablet that I take once a day instead of 3 times a day as I did with the Methyldopa, and she gave me something for nausea.  She then ordered labs, and told me congratulations once again. 

She was not very concerned about my blood pressure though.  She was actually very nonchalant about it--I think that helped me calmed me down.  In her opinion, we still had time to get it under control.  She gave me a warm smile, told me get dressed, and then head to the lab for blood work, and that she would call me if there was anything amiss in my blood work.  She also warned that I may spot after the exam…And so I am back at my happy place....

The "Glow"

But in the meantime…the lows of pregnancy began…the constipation today, the diarrhea tomorrow.  The acne—I awoke one morning to the face of a 13 year old! I needed zit cream!  And I needed it FAST!!!!

And then, to make matters worse—my head hurt!  And the only thing I can take, is Tylenol Regular Strength…which, by the way, is the equivalent of running into a war against a thousand soldiers, with a stick!! 

And the cravings…they are a source of trickery!  I craved red meat…makes sense since my iron levels were very low…so I ordered a steak.  Well, that didn’t work.  I mean, it was awesome going down, but somehow grew claws coming back up!

At my next primary care visit, I mustered up enough courage, and I asked the doctor, “When do I get the ‘glow?’”

She looked at me with this confused, blank stare and asked me, “What are you talking about? I’m sorry. I do not know of this glow in which you speak.”

I looked at her, and said, “You know, the glow that everyone claims pregnant women have!  Right now, I have THE gas, THE constipation, THE acne, THE nausea, THE cravings, THE nosebleeds, THE gas—did I mention that already? Because I’m losing friends here…but I have yet to get THE glow, and I want to know when do I get mine?”

If you could have seen this woman’s face as she slowly began to realize what I was asking her. Her face went from bewilderment, to this jovial expression, and you could tell she was fighting back laughter, but I was serious!

And then she did it—she burst out in laughter at me!  She actually had the unmitigated gall to have tears rolling down her face from laughing at me!  She leaned over, grabbed a tissue, took off her glasses, and dabbed her eyes. 

When she finally had her composure back, she looked at me and said, “the glow, as you called it, comes later on. Not now. Later.”

“Well.” I began. “if that’s true, then there should be a disclaimer to this whole pregnancy thing because right now, I’m not going to lie to you, doc, I feel cheated!” 

That did it…she laughed again!  This time for not as long, and then we went on to a more sobering discussion: my blood pressure was not responding to the medication, and she wanted me to add another to the rotation in an attempt to bring it down quickly. 

I tried to explain to her that I didn’t feel this fair—I was sure that part of the issue, was that I could not keep the pills down. I was taking something called Methyldopa, three times a day: breakfast, lunch, and dinner…and wouldn’t you know it? Those were the exact same three meals I was NOT keeping down! So if I can’t keep my food down, how can I keep my meds down?

But she was not hearing it.  She wrote me another prescription for something called, labetalol, and I was going to have to take that once a day, on top of the other one at 3 times a day.

So I left her that day, preparing for my appointment with my ob—which was the next week.  And I must admit, I was getting excited…

The Teacher Gets "Schooled" by Her Student...

But then, I felt that I should share my story.  Someone approached me in church after my minister made things public, and felt that I should blog about it—she thought good or bad, I may be able to help another through my story. Come to find out, though her circumstances were not identical in nature, whereas her story had different plot twists and turns, she had been told her conclusion was the same—that she too would not be able to conceive. 

So I thought about it, and I prayed about it, and I thought some more, and I prayed some more, and finally, I came to the conclusion that I always say that I want to leave behind my writings…that I want to leave behind a legacy of touching and improving the lives of others…that I want to help others through my writing…so I decided…no matter what happened, I would tell my story—the good times…and if they occurred, the bad…the highs…and the lows…and then I prayed some more, and I thought about things pertaining to just the baby itself, and I thought, “Who am I to feel dread? Really??? I have done the IMPOSSIBLE! I am a conqueror!  My name is VICTORY! And I need to claim my victory, and DANCE! I dared to dream the impossible dream, and it came to pass!” 

If you speak calamity, then it shall surely find you…I posted those words on Facebook…and one of my former students, put them right back in my face!  She had no clue of what I was struggling with, she just quoted me, “If you speak life, prosperity, happiness, you shall have those. If you speak calamity, treachery, and malevolent matters, then you shall have those as well, for whatever a man soweth, he shall also reap.” 

Apparently, I can give good advice, but I have a hard time taking it!

I mean, now who was basically “laughing at God?”  ME!  I was now playing the role of Sarah, and laughing at the angel.  I was—though my doubts, and my fears—turning my back on this awesome joy that been given to me. 

This joy…that no one foresaw in my future…  My doctors had all but written me off.  The fertility doctor had said that he “might” be able to help me, but that it would take a long time, and multiple treatments (expensive and painful).  My gynecologist was preparing the paperwork for my either my hysterectomy, OR, a tubal oblation.  My primary care doctor kept reiterating to me how near to impossible it would be for me to conceive…and yet…here I am.  In the early wee weeks, but still, I am pregnant none-the-less.

I decided that I would treasure this pregnancy—morning sickness and all, and blog about it…that in the end, I would be able to share my writings with my children—the legacy of my unwavering love for them, and how much they both mean to me. I mean, I may not have given birth to Matthew, but I could not love any more than if I had! Shoot, if I didn't feel like someone in my family would cause me physical pain and anguish, I would probably NAME the kid Miracle, just to show my extreme joy…just kidding…or am I? 

So leaving the doctor’s office that day, I had scheduled my first appointment with my ob/gyn for later in the month, and my primary care doctor had demanded that I see her in ten days so she could check my blood pressure and see how the new medication was working.

And so with my new-found joy in my heart, I began to allow myself to connect, and I opened my heart to hope, and love, and to whatever God had in store for me. 

A Crisis of Faith

So, after the blood work, I was led back to the room where I met with my primary doctor.  She walked in, this prim, proper, teeny tiny Indian woman, and she gave me a high FIVE!  I have NEVER experienced that with her before! Not in all the days, in all the months, in all the years I have been going to her! LOL.

I almost fell off the examination table! HA!  She was beaming from ear to ear, and says in her heavy accent, “they said this would never happen…I honestly thought it would never happen…but miracles do happen every single day that stun the medical community.” 

That meant a lot to me.  For a medical person to have that reaction; it truly meant a lot to me. Come to think of it, it reminded me of the old cigarette slogan, “you’ve come a long way, baby.” *Smiles*

We had to change all of my medications—none of them were safe for the baby.  

Even my Vitamin D (50,000 iu’s) was deemed toxic for the baby.  She researched blood pressure medications as well, and came up with one that would be suitable—we hoped.  She took my blood pressure again, because she wanted to verify the results of her nurse:  150/102—we had to get my pressure down quickly, because high blood pressure could deprive the baby of blood flow—not a good thing at all. 

So I left her office that day with a new prescription for a new blood pressure medicine that was safe for me and the baby, and a lot of hope in my heart.

But somewhere along the way...that hope began to fade as I began to get lost in my thoughts. You know, sometimes, God grants you great mercies, and you do not know what to do…you want to shout it out to the world, and be a witness and give your testimony; but at the same time, you are truly afraid to do so. Not because you want to be a bonehead, but because you truly feel undeserving.  I know that we are taught that God has not given us a spirit of fear—and I don’t think He has—but our humanly flesh has given us this fear, and to say that it is a hard thing to shake...well, that would be an understatement.

I struggled with wanting to scream it from the roof tops, and splash it across social media: “I was the woman with the issue of blood! I have not only been made whole, but I have done what doctors said was impossible—I. Am. Pregnant!”  But, on the other hand, I wanted to keep the secret until the first trimester passed and things are considered “safe.”  It was truly an internal conflict---me against me, and in either circumstance, I lost if I sided with myself. 

I felt this baby was a gift from God (still do), and a miracle (still is).  But I still had to face the harsh reality that if I told people, and then something happened, how would I face them?  How would I deal with their pity?  How would I deal with the stares, and the, “oh, I’m so sorry?” How would I handle and contain my own tears? My own sorrow? 

I truly didn’t know what to do. You know, you take a chance when you blog like this—you put your inner most feelings out there for all to see…you open your chest, and you put your heart on display…and a part of me feared beyond logical reason, that opening myself up to all, would inevitably bring me down in the end…and that sobering…haunting thought…took me back into my self-made darkness…

I'm so EXCITED!

The first thing they did when I walked in to the doctor’s office, was hand me a cup, and direct me to the unisex bathroom. Yuck!

I went, and I did as they said…I don’t know about anyone else, but I always feel so accomplished when I’m able to go beyond that little line they draw on the cup for you—but I digress…then, I was directed to sit in the chair, and have my blood drawn as well.

I was so scared! I just wanted to KNOW!  I just HAD to know!  What did their test say? Did it prove me wrong?  I asked the lab tech---stinky lady wouldn’t tell me!  She said it was illegal to divulge that information!

But it’s MY test! It’s not like I snuck someone else in the room to pee in the cup for me!  Why can’t she tell me?  But she remained firm, and said it was against the law, and told me I would have to wait for the doctor to go over the results with me.

So, I asked her were the results in.  She politely told me, “yes,” as she readied my hand for abuse.

I squirmed. She gave me the “side-eye.”  I giggled nervously and told her I was sorry, but I could not concentrate not knowing the outcome of my test. 

She sighed and gave me this look—like a mother chiding her child.  I didn’t care! I wanted to KNOW!  I deserved to know! It was my pee!

Finally, another lab tech asked me was I nervous.  I told her yes, and told her I was very nervous because this was a pregnancy that was not supposed to happen.  She walked out, and then, she walked by, stuck her head in the room, looked to see that the other tech was not looking, and said, “PSST!” I looked over her way, and she mouthed—you are pregnant!

The other lab tech militant’s head shot around, and she gave the other lab tech this icy glare, and then turned back to my exposed hand and readied the needle.

“I’mma need you to chill before you get near me with that needle, Elvira.” I nervously laughed.

“You. Are. Pregnant.” I ran the words over and over in my head, allowing them to soak in. Confirmed at home, verified by the doctor’s office…Best three words I have lip-read ever! I heaved a huge sigh of relief, and I relaxed my body…actually, I just kinda fell limp, and allowed the blood to flow freely in to the numerous vials..."I’m so excited! And I just can’t hide it! I’m about to lose control, and I think I LIKE it!”