What is normal?

I went to the doctor again yesterday.  I swear I don't even have to tell them who I am when I check in anymore.  Seriously.  They all greet me by first name now and I am only 10 weeks along.  We will be hanging out at each other's houses by the time I have this baby!

But I digress...

I went to the doctor yesterday and thought I was going to be getting another ultrasound but I didn't.  I was a little bummed.  Instead, I got a VERY thorough exam (I feel so violated and vulnerable *ha!*).

Apparently, everything is normal.  You know, with the exception that I originally had 5 babies inside me at the beginning of this pregnancy.

"Morning sickness" has come on with a full blown vengence this week.  Not sure if that is good or not.  I can tell you personally, that it's AWFUL.  But it might be a good thing in that it indicates that the baby is sticking.  And I don't know who named it "morning" sickness, but it starts sometime in the afternoon for me and culminates in me losing whatever I've eaten that evening right around 9pm.  Awesome.

I don't have to go back to the doctor next week (Thank you, God!) but I do go back the week after on August 4th.  At that time they will begin a series of tests to determine if the baby has birth defects, including a nuchal translucency ultrasound.  I'm nervous.  I'm not going to lie.  We all want perfect little Gerber babies and I'm no different.  But for whatever reason, this little baby is hanging on and thriving while 4 of his or her siblings did not and think for that reason alone, he/she deserves the best shot I can possibly give them.

If it is going to happen...it is going to happen to me.

In case you were wondering...I'm Chris.  Christine if you're being formal.

I'm married to Darrell and have a ridiculously wonderful 6 year old son.  I was never supposed to be able to even get pregnant, so he is my little Wonder Child. 

Yes, here he is...the King!

Recently, we found out that I was pregnant - again.  Which, in and of itself, is a fairly remarkable announcement.  You see, I am almost 41 and went to the doctor because I was just about positive that I was in pre-menopause.  Lightning doesn't strike in the same place twice, right? 

Imagine my surprise as the nurse called to give me my blood work results.  The phone call went a little something like this:

Nurse: "Yes, is this Christine?"

Me: "Yes, it is.  Is this the doctor's office?"

Nurse: "Yes, I am doctor so-and-so's nurse.  I was calling with your blood test results."

Me: "Awesome.  So, how bad it is?  I am in menopause, right?"

Nurse: "No...uh, no, you are not..."

Me: "Oh, great!  That's so good to hear."

Nurse: "Uhm, ma'am, your hcg test result came back positive."

Me: "What?"

Nurse: "Your pregnancy test that we took to rule out pregnancy came back positive."

Me: "What do you mean?"

Nurse: "Your pregnancy test is positive."

Me: "Positive?"

Nurse: "Yes. ma'am.  Positive."

Me: "Okay, just to make sure we are both talking about the same thing.  What does that mean, 'positive'?"

Nurse: "You are pregnant."

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Nurse: "Hello?  Are you still there?"

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Me: "Yes."

Nurse: "Are you okay?"

Me: "Yes...

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Me: Alrighty then, I guess I should call my ob. gyn. then, huh?"

Nurse: "Yes, ma'am.  And something else, your levels were a bit off, so if you could call your ob. gyn. as soon as possible, that would be ideal."

Actually, that was EXACTLY how the conversation went.

Well, quite obviously, I did NOT call my ob. gyn. next.  I called my husband.  If I had to be mortified and terrified and a whole lot of other words that ended with 'fied,' then he did, too.

Here is how that conversation went:

Hubby: "Hello."

Me: "Hey.  Uhm, I just got a call from the doctor.  I'm not in menopause.  I'm pregnant."

Hubby: "What?"

Me: "I'm pregnant."

Hubby: "You're pregnant?"

Me: "Yes."

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Me: "Hello?  Are you still there?"

Hubby: "Yes."

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Hubby: "So, you're kidding right?  This is a joke."

Me: "Nope.  I am pregnant."

Hubby: "Okay, well...that's...that's...wow...that's amazing...it's...wow...well, it's wonderful, really.  How are you?"

Me: "Scared.  Darrell, I am so scared."

He went on to console me, to agree that he was scared, too.  Then we both agreed that I would call my doctor, children are blessings and I would keep him posted.

I call my doctor, who I hadn't seen since my LAST exam last June, and tell them my test results and they say that I need to come in immediately.  Apparently, my numbers were really bad.

I go in and wait in the waiting room for what seemed like hours (yeah, it actually was) and finally they take me straight in to ultrasound.  I begin talking with the ultrasound nurse and she asks me questions about my last menstrual period, general health, all the regular stuff you get asked every time you go to one of these offices.  Then she says she has to leave and she will be right back.

A different ultrasound nurse comes in and tells me that I am only 3 weeks along and there will be nothing to see so I might as well not even HAVE an ultrasound.

"Oh, contraire!"  I tell her.  "I am MUCH farther along than a mere three weeks."

"We must go by your LMP and that says you are three weeks along."

"Okay, little Miss...this is MY body and I am telling you that I am further along.  You better do this ultrasound."

She sighs.  "Fine, but we won't be able to see anything."

"Humor me," I say.

As the "humoring" begins, little Miss Hoity Toity gets really quiet.  Too quiet.  Eerily quiet.  I keep seeing a little round sac and as far as I can tell, they look exactly like what they are supposed to at this stage of the pregnancy.  All the while, of course, I am chattering away (because I chatter when I'm nervous).

"Is that my baby?  What about THAT?  Is THAT the baby?"

And suddenly, a little bean looking thing magically appears and it is pulsating - a heartbeat!  It wasn't just round like whatever it was that she was seeing before.  I recognize that as I have seen it before with my son.  Oh my gosh!  That's MY baby!  I really am pregnant!

Triumphantly, and with NO hidden attitude, I tap her on her arm and say, "See?  NOW aren't you glad I insisted?  I thought you said you wouldn't be able to see anything!"

Her reply was a very cryptic, "You are apparently farther along than we thought and I am VERY glad I did this ultrasound."

I go back to the waiting room and wait for another few hours and FINALLY see the doctor.  She comes in and is very stoic.  I asked her about my numbers and what they mean and about the baby.  She then tells me that she has some questions for me first.  She goes about asking me all about if I have been taking any fertility drugs or if multiple births run in my family, and other things that made me start thinking that this may not be any ordinary pregnancy.

All my replies were pretty similar to, "Are you kidding me?  NO!  I have not taken ANY fertility drugs.  I don't have the money for that stuff.  And even if I did, I wouldn't spend it on getting pregnant.  I want a boat, and a jet ski, and a new car, and I want to put a really cool looking metal fence around our yard.  I want another Bullmastiff puppy.  I want a four wheeler..."

"Okay," she says. "Well, apparently, when you became pregnant, five eggs were dropped and they were all fertilized.  I need you to come back next week and do another ultrasound because I am thinking that what has happened is that you have a molar pregnancy."


[A molar pregnancy can have serious complications — including a rare form of cancer — and requires early treatment.]

"A what?"

"It is a very rare occurence that happens in 1 in about 1,000 pregnancies.  It is very rare."

Oh, lovely.  Because as you know, if it is going to happen...it is going to happen to ME.  I was not reassured.

They then sent me to the lab and drew even more blood and I sat in the lab chair, shaking and sobbing. Not only was I pregnant, but I had been pregnant with five babies and four of them had already died. And by the sound of it, the one that I did still have wasn't going to make it either.

I walked to my car openly crying.  I could have cared less who saw me.  I had to keep wiping the tears from my face.  When I got in the car, I called my husband.  He was extremely upset.  I could tell that he was only holding it together for me.

I tried to calm down but just did not have it in me.  I finally tried to drive the short distance to my mother's house.  She had been watching my son all day.  I pulled it together enough to tell my son that I would give him five dollars if he would stay in the den while I talked to "Gigi."  He happily agreed and finished watching his cartoon on the TV.

When we got to my Mom's room, I fell on her bed and laid my head in her lap and just sobbed.  It was several minutes before I could tell her what was even wrong.  I showed her the ultrasound and she just kept telling me how sorry she was.  Finally, I was okay enough to be around my son.  We all agreed not to tell him until we knew something positive or negative definitively.

When we got home, I showed my husband and we cried together and decided that we would just take this one test at a time and hope for the best.  I was told to take it easy and not do anything strenuous.

All week, I kept wondering when I was going to miscarry the last of my babies.  It wasn't a great week for me.  I was in a LOT of pain and felt very nauseous.

At my next ultrasound, there my little baby was.  It had grown accordingly and was now measuring at 7 weeks.  The other now empty sacs were still there though.  They were still not sure what was going on.

I was given the same instructions and I came back the following week.  Again, the little baby had grown a week's worth and I was showing at a little over 8 weeks.  Even one of the empty sacs was getting smaller.  I was no longer in pain and I didn't feel too sick most of the time.

At that visit, I was told that this was looking like a perfectly normal multiple pregnancy.  I really must have gotten pregnant with multiples and only one had survived.

And while I am certainly not out of the woods yet, and all of the problems with the other babies make the chances of the baby that is hanging in there more likely to have birth defects, I am feeling better.

I'm okay with a child with birth defects.  I'm really okay with whatever happens.  The one thing I have learned in my lifetime is that everything truly does happen for a reason.  God picked my husband and I out to be THIS babies parents and I am hoping for the best.

Here I sit, writing this blog, and now over 9 weeks pregnant.  I think I may name this baby "The Little Bean That Could."  I will keep updating.

And this is what this blog is about.  The chaos and all the fun that goes along with being Chris and then some...