One day I was cleaning out the cabinets in my bathroom and came across my arsenal of conception artillery. You know, ovulation test sticks, thermometer, packets of preseed, and one pregnancy test. I decided to give most of the stuff to my cousin who had been talking about starting to try for their first baby. But since the pregnancy test was the last one in a three pack I decided to toss it rather than pass along an open, half used box with no instructions. I tossed the foil wrapped stick on the top of the wastebasket and continued cleaning. As I cleaned that test stick just kept staring at me. I finally thought to myself, "That thing cost like $5, it's a waste to throw it away. I should at least pee on it first". Quite possible one of the weirdest thoughts I've ever had. But I went ahead and peed on it. I put the cap back on and went about my day. About an hour later I walked back into the bathroom, picked up the stick to throw it in the trash, but thought "Wait a minute this looks different!". I was so used to just seeing the not pregnant reading time and time again, the image was burned into my brain. I stood there, jaw hanging open, in silence and utter disbelief. I eventually wandered back into the bedroom, pee stick in hand, and slowly sat on the edge of the bed. I found myself saying, "Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. I'm going to have three babies.", over and over again. To say I was totally freaked out would be an understatement. I was filled with fear and self doubt. Could I handle three babies? Would I be a good mother with that many kids? Would this pregnancy survive? If it didn't, how would I survive the heartbreak and still be able to take care of my two boys? How will the stress effect our marriage? What if I get put on bedrest? What if our families think that we are irresponsible? My head was spinning.
I called Brian at work and asked him if he was sitting down. I told him the news and held my breath. He shouted WOO!HOO! He obviously didn't have the same fears that I did. He was overjoyed. He immediately started referring to my belly as "her" or "she". He was certain that since we already had two boys, this baby was certain to be a girl. We agreed that we wouldn't tell anyone until we knew for sure. I called the doctor's office and insisted on being seen that day. He confirmed that I was in fact pregnant, but only about four weeks along. Since we had so many previous miscarriages, the doctor decided to "throw everything we've got at this pregnancy and hope something sticks." He put me on hormones and blood thinners, and told me to remain hopeful and not to over do it. I was so excited, but still terrified. The pregnancy was closely monitored, with doctor appointments two to three times a week, as well as monthly ultrasounds.
We had a trip to Hawaii planned with our extended family. I would hit the 12 week mark while we were there. We decided that once we reached that milestone we would tell our families. I packed my little fuzzy black and white ultrasound picture and duffel bag full of anxiety. I was so nervous about how our family members would react.
I was tired and nauseated all the time and my belly was just starting to pooch. I knew I wouldn't be able to hide it much longer. We slowly told one or two people at a time on our trip. I was so relieved to see every one's joy and excitement. No one had a single negative or apprehensive thing to say. Everybody kept hugging me and rubbing my belly. At that point my confidence began to return.
About a month after our trip we found out the sex of our baby. I knew in my heart that it was a boy, but Brian couldn't be convinced. When the lady said that it was a boy, Brian was shocked. He kept asking if she was sure and if she was sure there weren't anymore babies in there. In some ways I was relieved that we were having a boy. I knew what that looked like. I already knew I was good at that. Not to mention that I had two of just about every cute boy outfit on Earth.
My pregnancy was not without it's share of idiot remarks however. I was quite the spectacle with my double stroller and enormous belly. I was an old lady magnet. It was like every old lady within a 100 yard radius felt me coming and their instincts forced them to seek me out. Most people just marveled and asked, "Well, now how did you manage to do that?". But occasionally I got some rude, bonehead remarks. In an attempt to get my labor started I walked around Costco one day with my big boys in their stroller. I passed by a couple in their early forties. The husband said, "Wow. She's got her hands full.", to which his lovely wife replied, "It's her own damn fault. Hasn't she figured out how the hell that happens yet!". I was shocked at how rude she was, considering I was only about 4 steps away from her at the time. I continued to walk down the aisle without saying a word, even though my raging, psycho, pregnancy hormones were telling me to bite her head off and inform her that I am doing something good for the world. As well as ask her what the hell she has done for the world lately!
Throughout the entire pregnancy I was never able to shake the fear that my baby could die at any moment. I was scared about whether I would ever be able to be a good enough mom, but I loved and wanted this baby so bad.
After months of positive thinking, and careful monitoring it was time to have a baby. We arrived at the hospital and after three days of labor and almost having a baby, I was told that something was wrong. My baby boy had his umbilical cord tangled around several limbs and his neck. The baby was still in good shape, but that was the reason he could make it all the way out on his own. I was exhausted and freaked out and ready to agree to a C-section.
My little Luca was born four days after checking into the hospital. I was wheeled into the operating room with my husband by my side. As they cut into my belly, Brian kept saying things like, "Seriously, you can't feel that?!", with a traumatized look on his face. He later told me that Dr.T was on one side, a nurse was on the other and they looked like they were playing tug of war with my open abdomen. I heard the doctor say, "Oh ya, he was never getting out of here." as he untangled my baby. The Beach Boys song "Good Vibrations" was playing on the radio as he pulled my baby out and I saw him for the first time.
I had sooo many 4-d ultrasounds during my pregnancy, I thought I already knew exactly what my chubby cheeked little baby looked like. But when I saw my new baby I thought, "Oh my God. Who is this little stranger?". He didn't look anything like his ultrasound pictures, but what he did look like was a person who was seriously pissed off! If they hadn't just pulled that baby out of my belly, I would have thought he belonged to someone else. I guess I'd be pissed off too if I had a cone head and a bruised face and still the paparazzi insisted on taking my picture.
Over the next few weeks he filled out and finally looked like the boy I saw in those ultrasound pictures. He is now the perfect blend of both Brian and I.
He is our beautiful little "Luca Bean".
Posts
He's a darling addition to your family!
ReplyDelete