My Story, continued

It took me about three months to convince Larry that we should try IVF again. He had been scared to death the last time, thinking that he was going to lose me, and he had no wish to go through any of that again. But he also wanted me to be happy, so eventually I convinced him.

Then we had to convince the fertility clinic. We went in to talk with them, and essentially they said that they would not proceed until I had been checked out by a perinatalogist. If she said okay, then I was good to go. I went to Dr. MacFarland, who had done the amnio for me in 2003. They took a lot of blood and I talked to the doctor, who agreed to help me. I found out that I had some sort of minor clotting disorder, likely genetic, that might have been behind my previous problems with pre eclampsia. Which would have been good to know in 2003, don't you think? But nobody thinks that pre eclampsia can happen in a pregnancy until you have already had it happen, really.

Back to the fertility clinic. We got another loan to pay for the IVF and the drugs that are required. Larry and I made the decision not to tell anyone about any of what we were doing, except for my parents. We told my parents because my dad would have to give me some of the shots I needed--I can't do IM injections because the idea gives me the heebie-jeebies. Subcutaneous injections--no problem! Go figure. But we told nobody else because if it didn't work, then there wouldn't be anyone asking questions or looking at me with pity/sympathy/empathy, and I could just go about my business without anyone triggering the waterworks. I told everyone I was having "female" surgery-sort of the truth-had the one embryo implanted, went home and stayed in bed for two days. Which is not the vacation everyone might think it is, at least if you are me.

Now, it would be expected that I would be a bundle of nerves at that time, not knowing what was going to happen. But I did know. I knew from the second that the idea sprouted in my mind that that embryo was going to implant. I don't know how I knew, but I did. I still went through the motions of being cautious--I had them call Larry and tell him if I was pregnant or not. I was meticulous with the Lovenox shots I had to take every day. I watched what I ate, the exception being the incredibly strong craving for queso. And I felt wonderful; I loved being pregnant. I saw Dr. Sadler, my long-suffering OB, and Dr. MacFarland on alternating weeks. Dr. Sadler told us that we were shooting to get to 32 weeks. One of my wonderful friends from the interwebs, Jill, sent me a fetal heart monitor so I could listen to the baby every night before bed. Once I passed what I felt was the danger point, we told the family. By the time it was August and school was starting up, I was showing enough that we told people at work. Although my coworkers figured things out earlier--they sent their official spokesperson(Gina) to ask me!

Toward the end of September I failed some blood glucose test they make you do, and was diagnosed as having gestational diabetes. From that point on, I didn't feel "right". I chalked it up to having to maintain my blood sugar at 100. October 19th, Larry and I went to Dr. MacFarland for Zane's checkup. They would do the sonogram and measure the bones and look at the organs and such to make sure that he was growing. Both doctors made me pee in a cup and checked for ketones each time and this day was no exception. Zane was sluggish on this day, not moving around very much. So I was worried about that. Then Dr. MacFarland came in to look, and was talking to us about "when you get to the hospital". We looked at her, dumbfounded. She told us that I was 'throwing proteins', she had called Dr. Sadler and we were to go to his office. She just wanted to put a fetal monitor on for a minute or two. Dr. Sadler called MY cell phone to tell us to get our butts to the hospital, not his office, because he was delivering me today(he didn't say it like that, because he's a doctor, but that was the gist). We were on the other side of town from the hospital and it was rush hour. Dr. Sadler called two more times to make sure that we were on our way. We spent the time sitting in traffic calling family and friends. I was glad that I had preregistered on the hospital website the weekend before! There wasn't any time for me to be scared, so I wasn't. I am sure that Larry was freaking out enough for the both of us, but he hid it well.

My Story

So how did I get here? I got here the hard way, I guess. I waited to get pregnant until I was married, but that's where all the trouble started. First we tried the regular way, and then we started with all the tests and fertility stuff. We had to get a loan to try IVF, which involved lots and lots of shots. The first round of IVF failed, and I was devastated. Because, you see, they make it all seem so easy to get pregnant that you just expect it all to work. So we waited a bit and tried IVF again. This time it took, and life was great. She was a girl and we named her Zoe Marie. Unfortunately, I got pre eclampsia. At 19 weeks. Two frakkin' weeks short of the remotest possibility of survival, but I would have taken it. I would have done anything to keep Zoe, but my blood pressure skyrocketed and my kidneys shut down. And my water broke, which pretty much ended every last hope I had right there. So I figured when I went down to have the c-section to get the body out of me that I wasn't coming back. I apparently had a discussion with God about the whole thing, because I was in a coma for at least 24 hours. I woke up in the ICU with my arms strapped to the bed--even unconscious I didn't want that tube down my throat! It took me awhile to figure out that I had a tube down my throat, so I panicked a bit. Once I realized that I was okay, breathing-wise, I scratched on the sides of the bed. I finally got someone's attention, and they took that damned tube out. My husband and my family were relieved. I was told that I could not ever get pregnant because of the risk.

That all happened in December of 2003. I can't even begin to describe the hole of despair I fell into. I look back at that time in my life and can't believe that I didn't just lay down and die. I went through the motions of pretending that my life was normal, but it was nowhere near it. I don't really want to talk about it, but if you've ever been there, you know what I am talking about.

Then one day my Ob-Gyn made some comment about my having kids, and when I reminded him that he told me that I shouldn't, he made a comment to the effect that it wasn't impossible for me. That gave me hope. What also gave me hope was that my husband and I had ONE fertilized embryo left from 2003. So I started to think about it. I thought about it for a long time. I finally decided that if it was meant to be, then that one little embryo was it. If that didn't work, then that meant that I wasn't meant to be a parent.

Once I had made my decision, then I had to convince Larry, my husband.

First Time Around

My two year old is running around the kitchen with a broom. He is babbling something that makes sense only to him and harassing Sandy the Wonder Dog, our 13 year old yellow Lab. I'd get up and chase him, but he's faster than me and to be honest, he has completely worn me out. If I haven't been chasing him all over the place trying to keep him from his usual death defying acts, I've been carrying him around. He just has way more energy than I do. So I have to wait until he gets tired of carrying the broom around and then sneak over and hide it.

People think that I am kidding when I tell them how active Zane is. I'm not. The boy is nonstop from the moment he wakes up until he passes out for the day. If you let him, I imagine that he wouldn't take a nap at all. He's really a great kid, he's just interested in anything and everything and he's found out that the best way to learn about the world is to get your hands on everything and play with it. Of course, some things don't respond well to being played with, like the cat, but that doesn't seem to phase Zane. He's onto the next adventure. Sometimes I wish that I could be more that way.

Okay, I got the broom away from him, but he found a pen, and is writing all over the dining room table. Gotta run.