To explain that title, I have to tell you about a song that was well known and loved by all the children who went through Blaine Elementary School and had Mr. Gray for their music teacher. I have no idea what the song is called, but it went like this:
Amma Lama Kuma Lama, Kuma La Pizza
Amma Lama Kuma Lama, Kuma La Pizza
Oh no no no NOT the pizza
Oh no no no NOT the pizza
Aynie Maynie Dixie Paynie Ooh Ah Thumbelina
Otchie Cotchie Lemon Rotchie XYZ…
The other thing that you need to know is that several days before I ended up in the hospital, Matt was diagnosed by symptoms, not a culture, with Whooping Cough and neither of us had gotten the vaccine yet. He was put on the Z Pack antibiotics and I was put on a 2 week twice a day course of horse pill sized antibiotics.
I ended up in the hospital on a clear liquid diet for the first 36 hours. When the threat of surgery was lifted and they said I could have food again, I was ecstatic! We decided that starting with soft foods was a good idea because I was still so tired from the medicines that I wasn't sure how well chewing and swallowing would work, let alone trying to manage a fork! The nurse asked me if I liked yogurt. I said yes I do. (In fact, I'd just bought myself some a couple days before.) She said she'd put in a request for it. She told me that when a request is put in, I'd probably get it with every meal, but if I didn't want to eat it then, I could put it in my fridge and take it home with me when I left.
My first real meal arrived, turkey in gravy, carrots, and squash (all diced) and some soup and a container of vanilla Greek yogurt. I ate everything but the soup, wasn't feeling the cream of celery, and then had the yogurt as a dessert. That night when dinner came, again everything diced, I ate it all, saving my raspberry yogurt for later. Since dinner came at 4:15 in the afternoon and bedtime was closer to midnight, I knew I'd be hungry later. When Matt got there after work, he brought his dinner in the room and I had my yogurt as a snack.
The next morning breakfast arrived and on my tray with my eggs and toast and fruit was a container of Yami peach yogurt. I ate my whole breakfast including the yogurt. Lunch came and on the tray was a container of Yami peach yogurt. I saved that one for later, eating it between lunch and dinner. Dinner arrived that night and Matt was there with me when it came in and on the tray was a container of Yami peach yogurt. I put it in the fridge to save for later. I think I must have eaten that one later that night too, not out of a strong desire for peach yogurt, but just because I was so hungry.
Tuesday morning arrived and my breakfast tray came, and on the tray was, you guessed it, a Yami peach yogurt. I knew that I just couldn't do it 4 times in a row, so I ate the rest of my breakfast and put the yogurt in the fridge. Lunch came, and I was already so excited about the fact that I got to go home after lunch that I didn't care what was on my tray. I got macaroni and cheese and green beans, and yep, a Yami peach yogurt. Five meals in a row, same exact yogurt. I put it in the fridge and planned to bring the last two home with me.
The previous night, my nurse had told Matt and I that I would need to do a round of probiotics or eat yogurt when I got home because of all the antibiotics I'd been given. I'd had 48 hours of penicillin in addition to my regular course of antibiotics.
Matt took her words to heart and proceeded to make me eat yogurt with each meal. Thankfully he mixed it up a little and brought me flavors other than peach. The night after we got home, his parents came over and his mom made dinner for us. When I finished my dinner Matt told me that he'd let me wait a little while before he brought me my dessert. I asked what it was, thinking his mom had made something. He said, "It's a surprise." I said, "It's not peach yogurt, is it?" He said, "It's not peach…"
My dessert was a Greek yogurt parfait with granola.
Over the last few days, he has been regularly bringing me yogurt and making sure I eat it. On Sunday when I went to my parents' house my mom went to the store to get yogurt because she didn't have any. I texted Matt a picture of the empty yogurt container to prove that I was eating my yogurt.
Well, I have to go now… my dessert of, you guessed it, YOGURT just arrived and I need to eat it.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
A Bump in the Road...
Sorry, but this is going to be long, even for me.
When last we left off, things were sinking in and feeling real. I knew from the beginning that I needed to take extra care during this pregnancy because I was considered high risk. Given my own history of high blood pressure, and heart issues (all of which thankfully have been controlled without medicines for at least 5 years) and my Mom's history of miscarriages, and my sister's blood pressure problems during both her pregnancies, I was on the doctors' radar.
We had been cruising along and everything was going well. At 16 weeks we learned that I had a complete placenta previa, meaning that my placenta was completely covering my cervix which makes it impossible for a natural delivery. Luckily for me, it was early enough that there was plenty of time for it to move. By 22 weeks, we were in the clear with that, it had moved completely out of the way, leaving a little tiny tail piece down low. Around this time, I had my hours cut down at work because I was on my feet too much and was having too many Braxton Hicks contractions.
So, I adjusted my hours and took more breaks, put my feet up, and did everything the doctors told me to do. At my last appointment I told the doctor how my husband was worried that the baby was going to come early and that we'd end up down in Seattle. She said, "I don't think so, I've got a good feeling that everything is going to be just fine." I finally felt like I could breathe easier and kind of coast along keeping up the same reduced activity routine.
Any of you ever heard the joke about the guy in the army whose mother died, and his commanding officer had to break the news to him, so during morning formation he says, "All of you whose mothers are still alive take two steps forward, not so fast Jones!" I kind of felt like that on Friday the 6th of July.
I'd worked my 6 hours, went grocery shopping and stocked up on a bunch of stuff, including 5 containers of yogurt (two of which were peach) and that will come back into play later. Then I picked up dinner for Matt and I at Dairy Queen including a Blizzard for each of us. After dinner, I went home to unload groceries. I brought them all in and put away anything that needed to be refrigerated or frozen and left the rest all sitting in their bags on the counter. I'd put my Blizzard in the freezer too planning on eating it a little later, and then I let Lucie drag me to the neighbor's house where they were having their annual 4th of July party, a little later than usual. I hung out there talking with neighbors for an hour or so, watching while they lit their fireworks off, talked to the Chief of Police and assured him that they were done with the fireworks when he responded to the complaints, and then after talking with my neighbor Emily for a few more minutes I decided that it was time for me to go home, maybe put the rest of the groceries away, and then go to bed.
I walked into my house and went straight into the bathroom. I discovered to my horror that I had started bleeding. My phone was in my sweatshirt pocket, and I instantly grabbed it and called the after hours number for the Dr.'s office. They patched me through to the on call Dr and as I was waiting, I went upstairs and changed clothes. He told me to go to the hospital right away. I called Matt and told him I was going. He offered to come home from work right away and take me, but I didn't know what was going to happen, or how long I'd be, and I didn't want to wait even those few extra minutes it would take him to get home, so I said I'd go in and call him when I knew what was going on.
I very calmly drove myself to the hospital, praying the whole way. Once again, as hard as it was, I tried to pray the proper way. Everything in me was screaming about what I wanted, and what I wanted to tell God that He had to do, but instead I just told him that I knew my life and that of the baby were in His hands and I asked for His will to be done. I asked for help to accept whatever came, and if it wasn't His will for this baby to arrive safely at the right time, then I knew He was going to help me through it. I tried to call my parents and my sister both, but wasn't able to get any of them on the phone, but it was after 11:00 by this point.
I got to the Childbirth Center and got checked in, and the nurse took me right back to the triage room. When they realized I was still bleeding, they hooked me up to monitors right away. As soon as I heard the baby's heartbeat on the monitor I relaxed a lot. The hospital doctor came in after a few minutes and asked if I was feeling all the contractions I was having. I had no clue I was even having contractions. After a little while the doctor came back in and gave me some medicine to try to stop the contractions and also did an exam. At this point my calm was starting to crack. I started shaking and doing my best to hold it together. When she said that the bleeding had stopped and my cervix was still closed, I immediately stopped shaking and was able to relax. From that moment on, I was nothing but calm and at peace. It turns out that that little tail piece of placenta that had remained down low had broken loose, a small abruption, and that had caused the bleeding.
When two nurses came in to start an IV, I realized it was time to call Matt in because I figured I was going to be there for awhile. The IV was the worst part of the whole experience. It took three tries to get the IV placed and the first two failed attempts were painful. A few minutes later a new nurse came in and gathered up my stuff and led me (with a sheet wrapped around me to cover the nice gaping gown) down the hall to a room. She got me all settled into bed with the fetal monitor and contraction monitors strapped to me, and my IV lines all hooked up. Matt arrived and brought with him my iPad. I was very thankful for that. I had my phone, and my iPod which was in my purse, and I'd managed to remember to grab a charger and a pair of headphones from my bag when I parked my car.
We settled down for the night, and the hospital Dr, who had been conferring with Dr Mora by phone, came back in and checked on me, told me that Dr Mora would be in before too long, and asked if I wanted something to help me sleep. I was so tired I could barely keep my eyes open, so I said, "No thanks, I'll be OK." Now let me tell you, this was the WRONG answer. The answer is ALWAYS "Yes, I would, thank you."
After one more set of vitals, the nurse left me to get some rest. Matt settled in on his bed and actually fell asleep pretty quickly. Try as I might, I could not get to sleep. About 3:00 am Dr Mora came in and talked with me briefly. I don't remember much of the conversation except for him telling me that he was starting me on Betamethazone and asked me if I knew what that was. I didn't, until he started to explain what it did, and then I knew. It is the steroid shot they give to develop the baby's lungs in case he comes early.
About 4:15 am the nurse came in to give the first of the two steroid shots. I was still awake. I fell asleep from about 4:30-5:15 and then was wide awake again. About 6:00 I got another dose of the contraction medicine they'd given me during the night. A little while later I got a shot of something else that I can't spell which was an even stronger contraction medicine because apparently I was contracting every minute and a half. About 7:00 or 8:00 (it's all a blur because of how tired I was) Dr Mallory came in and explained the new medicine they were going to start me on, Magnesium Sulfate, and what it was for and how it could make me feel. He told me that they were going to do an ultrasound and check on a few things. I asked how strict the 24 hour between injections thing was? Was I going to have to come back in at 4:15 the next morning to get the second shot? He said I didn't need to worry about that because I wasn't going to be home at 4:15 the next morning.
That's when it hit me that I was maybe in worse shape than I thought I was. Matt had gone home to get a few more hours of sleep, and I'd gotten in touch with my Mom, and she had arrived at the hospital. They took me down to ultrasound where we would learn my fate. After the ultrasound where they did cervical measurements, we were back to my room to await the news of whether I'd be staying in Bellingham or if I was Seattle bound. My sister arrived while we were waiting, and Matt came back and brought a few things I needed with him. The nurse came in and said, "Seattle says you can stay." We were all very relieved to hear that. Dr Mallory came in and told me that he had spent a long time on the phone with the specialist in Seattle. He started at the very beginning and we all started to get a little nervous that I wasn't staying after all. He went through everything step by step and laid out a plan. The doctor in Seattle wanted me sent down there for at least 6 weeks, and Dr Mallory wanted to keep me in Bellingham. The Seattle doctor said if I stayed in Bellingham then I needed to be in the Childbirth Center until I delivered. On Friday when I arrived at the hospital, I was 28 weeks along. I was starting to get a little worried that I was looking at 12 weeks in the hospital.
As our meeting with Dr Mallory progressed, we all felt a little better about things, even though our situation was a little more precarious than I'd thought. I had made the cut-off for staying in Bellingham by .02 of a centimeter. If my cervix was shorter than 2 cm, I couldn't stay. We got a range of measurements due to the baby's constant movement, but our range was 2.02 cm - 2.6 cm. I was on a clear liquid diet at this point, and I realized that the threat of emergency surgery was still looming over my head.
Through all of this, I remained very calm and relaxed. I'm sure that this was partly due to the massive dose of magnesium sulfate I was receiving which had me basically stoned out of my mind. I couldn't focus my eyes on anything, I could barely lift my head off the pillow. I just lay there all afternoon listening to what was going on, opening my eyes when I could, but mostly just listening. The main reason though for my lack of stress and worry was that I finally understood what "Peace that is past understanding" felt like. I spent the time in the middle of the night that I wasn't sleeping in prayer, I prayed for my friends and family that were going through difficult situations, and lastly I prayed for myself. I also knew that I had a lot of people praying for me and for baby Fireball. That is what got me through and helped me to remain calm in the face of the scariest situation I'd ever been in.
The rest of our hospital stay was very uneventful, I went from being the highest risk patient in the wing, that they had to check on constantly, to the one who was so stable that they hardly ever had to check on me. I was amazed by the fact that I never once felt like I was getting bored or cabin fever, or that I had to get out of there. I was just perfectly content.
When last we left off, things were sinking in and feeling real. I knew from the beginning that I needed to take extra care during this pregnancy because I was considered high risk. Given my own history of high blood pressure, and heart issues (all of which thankfully have been controlled without medicines for at least 5 years) and my Mom's history of miscarriages, and my sister's blood pressure problems during both her pregnancies, I was on the doctors' radar.
We had been cruising along and everything was going well. At 16 weeks we learned that I had a complete placenta previa, meaning that my placenta was completely covering my cervix which makes it impossible for a natural delivery. Luckily for me, it was early enough that there was plenty of time for it to move. By 22 weeks, we were in the clear with that, it had moved completely out of the way, leaving a little tiny tail piece down low. Around this time, I had my hours cut down at work because I was on my feet too much and was having too many Braxton Hicks contractions.
So, I adjusted my hours and took more breaks, put my feet up, and did everything the doctors told me to do. At my last appointment I told the doctor how my husband was worried that the baby was going to come early and that we'd end up down in Seattle. She said, "I don't think so, I've got a good feeling that everything is going to be just fine." I finally felt like I could breathe easier and kind of coast along keeping up the same reduced activity routine.
Any of you ever heard the joke about the guy in the army whose mother died, and his commanding officer had to break the news to him, so during morning formation he says, "All of you whose mothers are still alive take two steps forward, not so fast Jones!" I kind of felt like that on Friday the 6th of July.
I'd worked my 6 hours, went grocery shopping and stocked up on a bunch of stuff, including 5 containers of yogurt (two of which were peach) and that will come back into play later. Then I picked up dinner for Matt and I at Dairy Queen including a Blizzard for each of us. After dinner, I went home to unload groceries. I brought them all in and put away anything that needed to be refrigerated or frozen and left the rest all sitting in their bags on the counter. I'd put my Blizzard in the freezer too planning on eating it a little later, and then I let Lucie drag me to the neighbor's house where they were having their annual 4th of July party, a little later than usual. I hung out there talking with neighbors for an hour or so, watching while they lit their fireworks off, talked to the Chief of Police and assured him that they were done with the fireworks when he responded to the complaints, and then after talking with my neighbor Emily for a few more minutes I decided that it was time for me to go home, maybe put the rest of the groceries away, and then go to bed.
I walked into my house and went straight into the bathroom. I discovered to my horror that I had started bleeding. My phone was in my sweatshirt pocket, and I instantly grabbed it and called the after hours number for the Dr.'s office. They patched me through to the on call Dr and as I was waiting, I went upstairs and changed clothes. He told me to go to the hospital right away. I called Matt and told him I was going. He offered to come home from work right away and take me, but I didn't know what was going to happen, or how long I'd be, and I didn't want to wait even those few extra minutes it would take him to get home, so I said I'd go in and call him when I knew what was going on.
I very calmly drove myself to the hospital, praying the whole way. Once again, as hard as it was, I tried to pray the proper way. Everything in me was screaming about what I wanted, and what I wanted to tell God that He had to do, but instead I just told him that I knew my life and that of the baby were in His hands and I asked for His will to be done. I asked for help to accept whatever came, and if it wasn't His will for this baby to arrive safely at the right time, then I knew He was going to help me through it. I tried to call my parents and my sister both, but wasn't able to get any of them on the phone, but it was after 11:00 by this point.
I got to the Childbirth Center and got checked in, and the nurse took me right back to the triage room. When they realized I was still bleeding, they hooked me up to monitors right away. As soon as I heard the baby's heartbeat on the monitor I relaxed a lot. The hospital doctor came in after a few minutes and asked if I was feeling all the contractions I was having. I had no clue I was even having contractions. After a little while the doctor came back in and gave me some medicine to try to stop the contractions and also did an exam. At this point my calm was starting to crack. I started shaking and doing my best to hold it together. When she said that the bleeding had stopped and my cervix was still closed, I immediately stopped shaking and was able to relax. From that moment on, I was nothing but calm and at peace. It turns out that that little tail piece of placenta that had remained down low had broken loose, a small abruption, and that had caused the bleeding.
When two nurses came in to start an IV, I realized it was time to call Matt in because I figured I was going to be there for awhile. The IV was the worst part of the whole experience. It took three tries to get the IV placed and the first two failed attempts were painful. A few minutes later a new nurse came in and gathered up my stuff and led me (with a sheet wrapped around me to cover the nice gaping gown) down the hall to a room. She got me all settled into bed with the fetal monitor and contraction monitors strapped to me, and my IV lines all hooked up. Matt arrived and brought with him my iPad. I was very thankful for that. I had my phone, and my iPod which was in my purse, and I'd managed to remember to grab a charger and a pair of headphones from my bag when I parked my car.
We settled down for the night, and the hospital Dr, who had been conferring with Dr Mora by phone, came back in and checked on me, told me that Dr Mora would be in before too long, and asked if I wanted something to help me sleep. I was so tired I could barely keep my eyes open, so I said, "No thanks, I'll be OK." Now let me tell you, this was the WRONG answer. The answer is ALWAYS "Yes, I would, thank you."
After one more set of vitals, the nurse left me to get some rest. Matt settled in on his bed and actually fell asleep pretty quickly. Try as I might, I could not get to sleep. About 3:00 am Dr Mora came in and talked with me briefly. I don't remember much of the conversation except for him telling me that he was starting me on Betamethazone and asked me if I knew what that was. I didn't, until he started to explain what it did, and then I knew. It is the steroid shot they give to develop the baby's lungs in case he comes early.
About 4:15 am the nurse came in to give the first of the two steroid shots. I was still awake. I fell asleep from about 4:30-5:15 and then was wide awake again. About 6:00 I got another dose of the contraction medicine they'd given me during the night. A little while later I got a shot of something else that I can't spell which was an even stronger contraction medicine because apparently I was contracting every minute and a half. About 7:00 or 8:00 (it's all a blur because of how tired I was) Dr Mallory came in and explained the new medicine they were going to start me on, Magnesium Sulfate, and what it was for and how it could make me feel. He told me that they were going to do an ultrasound and check on a few things. I asked how strict the 24 hour between injections thing was? Was I going to have to come back in at 4:15 the next morning to get the second shot? He said I didn't need to worry about that because I wasn't going to be home at 4:15 the next morning.
That's when it hit me that I was maybe in worse shape than I thought I was. Matt had gone home to get a few more hours of sleep, and I'd gotten in touch with my Mom, and she had arrived at the hospital. They took me down to ultrasound where we would learn my fate. After the ultrasound where they did cervical measurements, we were back to my room to await the news of whether I'd be staying in Bellingham or if I was Seattle bound. My sister arrived while we were waiting, and Matt came back and brought a few things I needed with him. The nurse came in and said, "Seattle says you can stay." We were all very relieved to hear that. Dr Mallory came in and told me that he had spent a long time on the phone with the specialist in Seattle. He started at the very beginning and we all started to get a little nervous that I wasn't staying after all. He went through everything step by step and laid out a plan. The doctor in Seattle wanted me sent down there for at least 6 weeks, and Dr Mallory wanted to keep me in Bellingham. The Seattle doctor said if I stayed in Bellingham then I needed to be in the Childbirth Center until I delivered. On Friday when I arrived at the hospital, I was 28 weeks along. I was starting to get a little worried that I was looking at 12 weeks in the hospital.
As our meeting with Dr Mallory progressed, we all felt a little better about things, even though our situation was a little more precarious than I'd thought. I had made the cut-off for staying in Bellingham by .02 of a centimeter. If my cervix was shorter than 2 cm, I couldn't stay. We got a range of measurements due to the baby's constant movement, but our range was 2.02 cm - 2.6 cm. I was on a clear liquid diet at this point, and I realized that the threat of emergency surgery was still looming over my head.
Through all of this, I remained very calm and relaxed. I'm sure that this was partly due to the massive dose of magnesium sulfate I was receiving which had me basically stoned out of my mind. I couldn't focus my eyes on anything, I could barely lift my head off the pillow. I just lay there all afternoon listening to what was going on, opening my eyes when I could, but mostly just listening. The main reason though for my lack of stress and worry was that I finally understood what "Peace that is past understanding" felt like. I spent the time in the middle of the night that I wasn't sleeping in prayer, I prayed for my friends and family that were going through difficult situations, and lastly I prayed for myself. I also knew that I had a lot of people praying for me and for baby Fireball. That is what got me through and helped me to remain calm in the face of the scariest situation I'd ever been in.
The rest of our hospital stay was very uneventful, I went from being the highest risk patient in the wing, that they had to check on constantly, to the one who was so stable that they hardly ever had to check on me. I was amazed by the fact that I never once felt like I was getting bored or cabin fever, or that I had to get out of there. I was just perfectly content.
The Journey of a Lifetime...
I've been thinking for several months that I should write down some of my thoughts and feelings about the new little life that I have growing inside of me. Life has been so busy that I just hadn't gotten around to it… well, now I've got nothing but time, and I decided that this might be a good way to keep my brain from atrophying.
Looking back at my life, I have always known that I wanted to be a mother. It was what I looked forward to more than anything. As the years went on, I started wondering if it would ever happen for me.
It was a very hard topic for me, and I constantly dealt with people asking me, "When are you going to have kids?" I spent a good deal of time in prayer on this subject, and as hard as it was, I finally taught myself to pray the way that Jesus told us to, "Thy will be done." Not MY will be done. I began to ask God for patience and help accepting His timing. I knew that if God's will for my life was to be a mother, then it would happen in His perfect timing, and if it wasn't His will for my life then He was going to help me accept it.
I'd like to say that I was instantly at peace with this decision, but that would be a big lie. I spent many nights in tears, asking for help, and trying to come to terms with the fact that there still was no baby in my life. I remember one night driving home, and I felt like I had finally hit my wall. I broke down sobbing hysterically and begging God to help me through because I felt like He was saying "No." I called a friend and she said that maybe He wasn't saying "No," but maybe He was saying "Not yet."
As time went by, it became harder and harder for me to congratulate friends when I'd find out that they were pregnant. Obviously I was happy for my friends, but at the same time it felt like I was being kicked in the gut every time.
Last fall a friend of mine became pregnant, and when she told me, I immediately felt that pang, but for once I wasn't jealous because of everyone I knew, no one (except maybe me) deserved it more. She had been told she wouldn't have children, and she had been through so much in life that this was a real miracle.
Just before Christmas, my friend ended up in the hospital, and sadly their little girl didn't make it. I was devastated for them, and for the first time ever I thanked God sincerely that I had not gotten pregnant, because I didn't want to cause my friend any more pain. And I knew how I felt every time someone I knew was pregnant, and I'd never experienced anything like what she just went through, so I couldn't even begin to imagine what it would be like for her having to hear that news now.
A few weeks later, I realized that my period was late. I chalked it up to the sheer amount of stress in my house at the time given the fact that my husband was trying to decide whether or not to change jobs, and the stress of it was affecting his health. A couple days passed and still nothing. My sister was hounding me to "just pee on the damn stick already!!" I was so convinced that it was just stress and that I couldn't possibly be pregnant, so I refused to waste money on a test.
Finally, after 5 days, my sister was about to pull her hair out, she and Ariel spent many hours at work telling me to go get a test. That night I caved, but I stubbornly refused to spend $10 or more on a test that I was sure was going to be negative. I went to the Dollar Tree, and bought 3 tests. I arrived home and went straight up to my bathroom and took one of the tests. It said to read the results after 3 minutes, but not after 10. I sat there trying not to watch it, and to my amazement, within 30 seconds there were 2 bright pink lines. I stared in disbelief for a moment, and then I grabbed it and ran downstairs to tell Matt. He was at least as shocked as I was, and most likely more.
We decided that we weren't going to tell people, really tell people until we reached 12 weeks. And we also decided that we were going to wait until I'd seen my doctor to confirm before we told anyone besides siblings and parents. Of course this was on a Friday night, and I couldn't see a doctor until Monday. About an hour later, I took the other two tests just to be sure, and those double lines popped up just as fast as the first.
Monday I went and saw my doctor and she confirmed it, she said that the results were just as fast in their office as they had been at home. I was still kind of in shock, and having a hard time believing that after all these years, it was finally true.
A few days later, I was watching a movie on Lifetime (go ahead and mock) and it was about the girl who faked a pregnancy for her senior project to see how pregnant teens were treated in society. In the movie, her brother was having a hard time with it, not knowing it was all fake, and he finally came around and brought her a present. I was watching and he was telling her how hard the parent gig was, but how cool the Uncle gig was and that he got to be an uncle to this baby. At that moment, it hit me that I was going to be a mommy. I started to cry, and in that moment it finally started feeling real.
The next real moment of "This is really real" clarity hit me on Superbowl Sunday. I had gone to a birthday party for my favorite little 4 year old, and had pigged out on yummy birthday snacks. I got home and was watching the Superbowl, and during the 4th quarter, I started feeling sick. I ended up running to the bathroom to rid myself of the aforementioned snacks and realized that it was down to the last few minutes of the game and the Giants were coming back and I was laughing (between heaves) at the ridiculousness of my situation of trying to wedge myself between the toilet and tub so I could still see the TV to watch the game while having morning sickness (which I always got in the afternoon).
I began counting down the days to my first doctor's appointment, and when that day came, it started snowing like crazy an hour before my appointment and I was afraid I wasn't going to make it. I arrived, safe and sound, and even a little early. And then I got to have an ultrasound and see my tiny little baby and hear the heartbeat. I started to finally feel at ease that this was really real, and really happening to me.
Looking back at my life, I have always known that I wanted to be a mother. It was what I looked forward to more than anything. As the years went on, I started wondering if it would ever happen for me.
It was a very hard topic for me, and I constantly dealt with people asking me, "When are you going to have kids?" I spent a good deal of time in prayer on this subject, and as hard as it was, I finally taught myself to pray the way that Jesus told us to, "Thy will be done." Not MY will be done. I began to ask God for patience and help accepting His timing. I knew that if God's will for my life was to be a mother, then it would happen in His perfect timing, and if it wasn't His will for my life then He was going to help me accept it.
I'd like to say that I was instantly at peace with this decision, but that would be a big lie. I spent many nights in tears, asking for help, and trying to come to terms with the fact that there still was no baby in my life. I remember one night driving home, and I felt like I had finally hit my wall. I broke down sobbing hysterically and begging God to help me through because I felt like He was saying "No." I called a friend and she said that maybe He wasn't saying "No," but maybe He was saying "Not yet."
As time went by, it became harder and harder for me to congratulate friends when I'd find out that they were pregnant. Obviously I was happy for my friends, but at the same time it felt like I was being kicked in the gut every time.
Last fall a friend of mine became pregnant, and when she told me, I immediately felt that pang, but for once I wasn't jealous because of everyone I knew, no one (except maybe me) deserved it more. She had been told she wouldn't have children, and she had been through so much in life that this was a real miracle.
Just before Christmas, my friend ended up in the hospital, and sadly their little girl didn't make it. I was devastated for them, and for the first time ever I thanked God sincerely that I had not gotten pregnant, because I didn't want to cause my friend any more pain. And I knew how I felt every time someone I knew was pregnant, and I'd never experienced anything like what she just went through, so I couldn't even begin to imagine what it would be like for her having to hear that news now.
A few weeks later, I realized that my period was late. I chalked it up to the sheer amount of stress in my house at the time given the fact that my husband was trying to decide whether or not to change jobs, and the stress of it was affecting his health. A couple days passed and still nothing. My sister was hounding me to "just pee on the damn stick already!!" I was so convinced that it was just stress and that I couldn't possibly be pregnant, so I refused to waste money on a test.
Finally, after 5 days, my sister was about to pull her hair out, she and Ariel spent many hours at work telling me to go get a test. That night I caved, but I stubbornly refused to spend $10 or more on a test that I was sure was going to be negative. I went to the Dollar Tree, and bought 3 tests. I arrived home and went straight up to my bathroom and took one of the tests. It said to read the results after 3 minutes, but not after 10. I sat there trying not to watch it, and to my amazement, within 30 seconds there were 2 bright pink lines. I stared in disbelief for a moment, and then I grabbed it and ran downstairs to tell Matt. He was at least as shocked as I was, and most likely more.
We decided that we weren't going to tell people, really tell people until we reached 12 weeks. And we also decided that we were going to wait until I'd seen my doctor to confirm before we told anyone besides siblings and parents. Of course this was on a Friday night, and I couldn't see a doctor until Monday. About an hour later, I took the other two tests just to be sure, and those double lines popped up just as fast as the first.
Monday I went and saw my doctor and she confirmed it, she said that the results were just as fast in their office as they had been at home. I was still kind of in shock, and having a hard time believing that after all these years, it was finally true.
A few days later, I was watching a movie on Lifetime (go ahead and mock) and it was about the girl who faked a pregnancy for her senior project to see how pregnant teens were treated in society. In the movie, her brother was having a hard time with it, not knowing it was all fake, and he finally came around and brought her a present. I was watching and he was telling her how hard the parent gig was, but how cool the Uncle gig was and that he got to be an uncle to this baby. At that moment, it hit me that I was going to be a mommy. I started to cry, and in that moment it finally started feeling real.
The next real moment of "This is really real" clarity hit me on Superbowl Sunday. I had gone to a birthday party for my favorite little 4 year old, and had pigged out on yummy birthday snacks. I got home and was watching the Superbowl, and during the 4th quarter, I started feeling sick. I ended up running to the bathroom to rid myself of the aforementioned snacks and realized that it was down to the last few minutes of the game and the Giants were coming back and I was laughing (between heaves) at the ridiculousness of my situation of trying to wedge myself between the toilet and tub so I could still see the TV to watch the game while having morning sickness (which I always got in the afternoon).
I began counting down the days to my first doctor's appointment, and when that day came, it started snowing like crazy an hour before my appointment and I was afraid I wasn't going to make it. I arrived, safe and sound, and even a little early. And then I got to have an ultrasound and see my tiny little baby and hear the heartbeat. I started to finally feel at ease that this was really real, and really happening to me.
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