Real and Powerful and True

I am currently twenty-one weeks pregnant. I wrote this when I was only eight weeks pregnant...consider this a flashback blog post.


I am eight weeks pregnant. I am eight weeks pregnant. I am eight weeks pregnant.

Sometimes I remind myself of the fetus attached to my uterus, because my life seems entirely too normal for me to be eight weeks pregnant.

I determined I was pregnant about four weeks ago, which means I have been living this reality for nearly a month now. I have told my parents. I have told a couple of friends. I have gotten an ultrasound. I have heard a heart beat. There is a baby inside of me, albeit a human baby that closely resembles a small sea creature, but a baby nonetheless.

I have been going to the doctor on a weekly basis to get blood drawn. I am considered high risk and in turn will be monitored more closely than most women. Each week my hCg level and progesterone is measured. The past two weeks my progresterone level has dropped around five (I don't know what unit of measurement is appropriate here). Progesterone is the hormone most closely associated with miscarriage.

When I found out I was pregnant, I knew that the hard part wasn't necessarily over. The internet had informed me of the heightened risk of miscarriage associated with Endometriosis. I often times reminded myself that a positive pregnancy test wasn't the end of the fight. Nonetheless, it's hard to be pregnant for a month without sort of giving in to the idea that I will deliver this baby one day. I still hesitate to speak in any certain terms. I still want to start baby sentences with, "If this actually happens..." I want to protect myself. I don't want to jinx myself. I want to build a wall of realism in order to protect against the worst. I try to analyze the tone of the nurse's voice when she tells me the progesterone dropped again. I want to try to determine if these experts know more about what's happening inside my uterus than they're letting on. I want to know whether or not June 3rd really is the approximate date on which my life will irrevocably change, or if the next change will come much sooner.

The day before I was to undergo what I now realize was a successful IUI, I had an acupuncture appointment. I told the chiropractor and the receptionist at the office that I was going to do an IUI the next day. They both approached the experience so hopefully. They really bought into the positive thinking concept, referring to "when" I get pregnant rather than "if." As I walked out of the door of the office, the chiropractor (who also doubles as my life coach...joking...sort of), very seriously looked me in the eye and told me "what you think about, you bring about." I assume I rolled my eyes and continued on to my car. However, those words stuck with me.

The next day as I drove to the hospital for my IUI, I repeated to myself again and again "I will get pregnant." I made myself say the words out loud. I fought through the negativity and the walls I had built. I envisioned myself swollen and pregnant. I envisioned myself holding a baby. My baby. I made myself go there. I made myself feel what I wanted to achieve. And I cried. I cried until I had to stop crying or risk Cody knowing that there was something wrong.

When I took that pregnancy test on a random Monday evening after work and stared at the words "Pregnant" so matter-of-factly printed on that small screen, I couldn't help but think back to the concept that "what you think about, you bring about." Suddenly what seemed so silly and new age and fluffy, felt real and powerful and true.

I am now in a constant battle to balance what I think about with an appropriate amount of self-preservation. I cannot name this child. I cannot buy baby things. I cannot tell the world what I know. I cannot consider paint colors or pediatricians. I cannot jump head first into pregnancy because the opposite end of the spectrum is simply too dark. I used to be protecting myself against a negative pregnancy test. The enemy now is much scarier.

The good news in all of this is that I am pregnant and for now I am focused on doing everything I can to harvest this little sea creature until it can bloom into an actual human baby.

Pregnancy Whirlwind

The day after my positive pregnancy test I called Dr. Bell's office. The receptionist asked me what my message for the nurse was like she does every time I call...I managed to squeak out "I think I'm pregnant." I was terrified of saying the words out loud. It was like if anyone besides Cody or me knew then maybe it wasn't true at all. On that Tuesday I did some blood work. The nurse called me back the next day and told me that I was in fact pregnant. My hCg level was around 900; when it got to 10,000 I would be able to do an ultrasound.

I answered all of these calls from the doctor's office in secrecy for weeks. I would almost always be at work often times with twenty-five students staring at me as I rushed out of my room into the hallway to answer a phone call. When the phone would ring, my heart would beat out of my chest, my voice was shaky as I spoke. I was always so scared of the information coming from the other end of the line. "You did not ovulate." "Your cyst has grown." "Your surgery date will be..." These are the messages I have received from the doctor's office. Up until a nurse told me I was pregnant, I can not remember a positive bit of news from phone conversations with nurses.

The week after my initial pregnancy confirmation, I went back for more blood work. The nurse called me with the news that my hCg level was high enough to do an ultrasound. I was barely five weeks pregnant at this point. I got off the phone and immediately called Cody. I told him I was scheduled to do an ultrasound that afternoon. I was so scared. I didn't even know all of the complications that are oftentimes anticipated with pregnancy and endometriosis, but I knew an ultrasound so early on was not typical protocol for most patients. I spent the next few hours at work with my head spinning about what was happening to me. I walked up and down the halls and talked to all my coworkers as if nothing was out of the normal. On the inside, I was a wreck.

Ultrasounds and fertility treatments go hand and hand. I have lost count of how many I have done. On this day, I knew this was different. I understood that somehow this ultrasound was going to confirm if I was in fact pregnant with a viable embryo. I had no idea what to expect though.

It was Cody and I in the same dark room as always. The tech displayed the image on the screen. She punched a few buttons, took a few screen shots, and finally told us that everything looked "great." At the time I couldn't really conceptualize that the peanut-looking white shape on the screen was my son, but I knew that it was the beginning of something that we had been trying to manage for years. The tech proceeded to tell us how far along I was measuring. Toward the end of the scan, she hesitantly searched for a heartbeat after explaining that if there was not one, there would be no reason to worry. She told us that so early in a pregnancy the heart literally may not have formed. She continued to assure us not worry...and then suddenly this little wah-wah noise filled the room and there he was. This weird, creepy image on a screen had a heartbeat. He actually existed. Cody and I looked at each other in complete disbelief.

Looking back on it, I am so glad we heard a heartbeat on our first ultrasound. I was already so worried about complications that even with good news I nearly made myself a nervous wreck. After the ultrasound we were told the due date was June 3rd. I was told that I was considered "high risk" because of all that led up to the pregnancy. I scheduled an appointment with Dr. Bell and told that I would do blood work every week to monitor my progress.

Cody and I walked out of the hospital that day in utter confusion. The whole thing was so hard to process. We were so happy to know that everything looked normal, but at the same time, with every piece of good news our hopes continued to grow. We knew it was still early. The ultrasound tech told us that most people who get to 12 weeks go on to have a successful pregnancy, but that was seven weeks away for us. We agreed not to tell anyone until we had more of a grasp ourselves.

Nonetheless, this was the day that I started to accept that I was pregnant, that I may actually have a child. This was the beginning of Cody and Katy as parents. We both understood the magnitude of the situation. We both knew that our lives were going to be changed from this point forward regardless of how exactly this experience ended up. We tried to talk about what was happening. We tried to analyze the situation logically. We tried not to get ahead of ourselves. I focused on all that could go wrong still. Cody assured me of all that was going right. We started our balancing act of emotions and moved forward just the two of us carrying this secret. For two people who were becoming parents, it felt very much like we were giddy kids. We were just so happy.

Positive Pregnancy Tests and Mexican Food

On Monday, September 29, 2014 I took a positive pregnancy test. Two positive pregnancy tests in fact. I was a couple of days late on my period and decided to take a test before work without Cody being there. This secretive test taking isn't something new. The suspense of a late period makes me crazy. Cody generally tells me it's probably nothing and gives me sort of judging looks with every negative test I take.

On this particular morning, I managed to get an "error" result on the test. I thought it was sort of funny. My inability to do anything fertility related is humorous at times.

I told Cody about my inconclusive test and he agreed that if I hadn't started my period by the time I got home, I should take another. I didn't spend the day thinking about being pregnant. I wasn't giddy at the thought of being pregnant. I never imagined this month would be any different than all the rest.

That evening around 5 I got home and we decided to do another one.  Cody and I went to our bathroom. I took the test, sat it on the counter, and we stood and stared. Thinking back on those couple of minutes of watching that hourglass turn seems so precious to me now. I've taken so many pregnancy tests. Generally Cody is completely ignorant to it. I don't know why this happen to be the time Cody entertained the test enough to be with me, but I am so glad he was.

Moments later we found ourselves in disbelief at the word "pregnant" scrawled across that tiny screen. My immediate reaction was laughter. Cody gave me multiple impassioned high fives. I squatted on the floor of our bathroom and tried to determine what I was feeling. 

Still I am not quite sure what I felt. I thought the whole thing was really funny or maybe there was so much emotion that the only output I could manage was laughter. I wasn't overwhelmed with appreciation or happiness. I didn't really feel like all my prayers were answered. I didn't feel an enormous sense of relief. I laughed. Because after all these years and all these tests and all these ultrasounds, I'm not sure I ever believed that a positive pregnancy test would come so easily. I never thought a random Monday evening in September would play out with the realization that I am pregnant with my husband's baby. The entire scene was too normal to make sense to me. Getting pregnant has been so far from what I ever imagined that it seemed foreign to be standing in my bathroom staring at a pregnancy test just like everyone else does. It didn't compute for me.

We eventually decided to chalk the test up to a fluke. Neither of us were willing to surrender to success as easily as taking one test on a whim. This couldn't be how this would all end.

We went to eat Mexican food shortly after this experience. We got in the car and drove to the same restaurant that we always eat on Monday nights. We ordered the same stuff we always do (minus the Coke for me) and we kept looking at each other to see if some sort of clarification was to be found in the person sitting across the booth. The whole thing didn't make a bit of sense to either of us. I don't think either of us had the words quite yet.

After dinner, we went to Carol Ann Cross Park. We told ourselves that we needed to take a few more tests and call the doctor's office before we got too excited. We both were aware of the heightened chance for miscarriage and respected that a positive pregnancy test may not necessarily result in a baby. But we also knew that a positive pregnancy test meant that something huge may be about to happen.

At the park we walked and held hands and giggled. We tried to control our excitement. We tried to act like we were not getting our hopes up too high. I tried to control my visions of baby names and furniture and baby showers and all that it means to be pregnant. I tried so hard to be stoic Katy. It was nearly impossible though. 

We walked and said very little. We looked at the ducks and talked about work and watched the sun sink below the horizon and we never let go of each other's hand. Day one was nearly in the books.