Monday, January 26, 2015
And then she received the most surprising news of all. She was pregnant.
She, me, was pregnant for the 6th time and at age 39 1/2. Me, I was pregnant!
I found out just after New Year’s. We had been having the most stressful time with big brother. And my husband was stressed at work, and he’d been diagnosed as pre-diabetic, and I was stressed and drinking wine every day just to survive! We had just come to terms with our “No more babies” deal.
I fell pregnant and I knew immediately. I always get the most unique and crazy pregnancy dreams. They are my first symptoms. On the day on my missed period, I just knew. A fist full of tests confirmed it. I was going to be really old and pregnant! And really old and having a baby! And I was really scared to be having a baby on top of my two monsters I already had and have yet to house train.
I made peace with all of that and started to get happy and excited. I was cautious, but I was thinking of the due date and thinking of nurseries and new baby gear and, most recently, names. Might it even be a little girl?
All the while, the daunting medical evidence started stacking up that this pregnancy might never turn into a take home baby. My early blood work was adequate but my hormones rose a bit sluggishly. I was sick, but not as sick as I’d been with my other babes. Then, the ultrasound this morning dropped a crushing blow. An empty egg sac, measuring a week + behind my suggested gestational age. I didn’t even have to wait for more blood work. We knew this was the end.
My hormones are currently dropping which means impending miscarriage. My baby stopped growing at 5 weeks 5 days. These are important numbers. There will be no birth weight to announce. These are my mementos of this time with my baby. And short lived as it was, I loved being pregnant with this baby. I even posed for two bump pictures showing off my not-a-bump. And while that’s tragic, I’m so happy to have that evidence that baby was here for a short time .
Now, it’s the truly awful time of waiting to miscarry. I’ve decided that I want to have a d&c. I don’t want to cramp and labor to pass the baby. I just want to go to sleep and be delivered. I wish, more than anything, that I could just swallow a pill and have the baby taken gently from my body. Instead, I need to have a consultation, and sign forms, and find child care for two kids, and go under anesthesia, and wake up, empty.
Then I’ll mourn all over again.
I wasn’t expecting this baby but when he or she found me, I was so amazed and I felt blessed to have been chosen. But does the Universe want me to have another go at it? It’s too early to think about that. But I am thinking about it. And I will let you know.
Cyn at 9:00 PM