People have been asking me a lot recently if I am ready to give you a little brother or sister. It made me think of how you got here. This is not a story of “Look at What I Went Through to Get You Here!” Instead, this is a tale of purpose. I am convinced you are here for a reason and you are special. I suppose all parents believe their children are special and they should. I am no exception to this rule.
I’d like to start by telling you a secret. Four months before I married your father, I ended up in the hospital (on my birthday) with a degenerative fibroid. It was quite a shocking experience to me because I did not know I even had fibroids and here I was, in the emergency room, thinking my appendix was going to bust. Test after test, the doctors discovered a 4 cm fibroid surrounded by a bunch of his little fibroid friends. Who invited them? I have no idea. To me, it came out of no where. I had checkups in the past, and was never told I had fibroids. After experiencing that, I truly did not believe I was going to be able to have children. Not many people know that.
(Side note: Degenerative fibroids are one of THE MOST painful things a woman can experience next to child birth. If you ever meet someone who has experienced this, just hug them.)
So what did I do? I threw myself into work and school. I had not finished my undergraduate degree so I focused on that relentlessly. It was something I needed to accomplish even if I never used it. Once I graduated, your Dad and I discussed trying to start a family. We knew it may not be possible, but we wanted to try. A few months later, a positive pregnancy test! I still feel the surprise of that moment. I remember looking at the test thinking “NO WAY!” It was such a good feeling to know that you were coming.
I went to my doctor to confirm the home pregnancy test was correct. The blood test confirmed it, but they could not see or hear you on the sonogram. This wasn’t the best news, so I had to go to the hospital to make sure I was pregnant and to confirm that you weren’t in my fallopian tube. At the hospital, they did an external sonogram and again could not see or hear anything. To rule out an ectopic pregnancy, I needed to have an internal sonogram. And there you were! Tucked behind Mr. Fibroid. Your heart beat was strong and normal, and I was allowed to exhale for a short moment.
A few weeks later I went back to my Doctor. She informed me that she had real concerns. My fibroids would continue to grow along with you and she could not guarantee that she could deliver my baby safely. The fibroids may smother you, or they may make it impossible for you to come out on your own. Either way, I needed to see a high risk doctor. I remember her saying, “It could be a matter of saving your uterus” and that she would no longer care for me. What? I’m in danger of losing my uterus and my baby? I started to cry a God awful ugly cry the moment I stepped out of her office. I went from happy to worried to happy to sad in such a short period of time. (When you are older, you will learn how hard it is to find a gynecologist that you like! I mean these people are looking at your most private parts! And here I am pregnant, and have to find a new doctor.)
I googled, and googled, and googled until I found a well reviewed doctor about 15 minutes from my house. I had a consultation with him, and was immediately drawn to his dry matter of fact personality. He specialized in not only high risk pregnancies, but had seen women with fibroids worse than mine dozens of times. He told me not to worry. You would make space for yourself. Worse case scenerio, I would be very uncomfortable for the next few months, but you would be fine. That was all I needed to hear.
Time progressed and I got bigger. You got bigger. I felt you flutter and kick. And I had a feeling you were going to be a girl before they told me for sure. You were still and quiet when there was a lot of noise around. (You are the same way now. My nosey baby.) When it got quiet, you would kick, twist and turn. (You are the same way now. It’s interesting watching you when you think no one is watching.) You played kick ball with Mr. Fibroid, and you forced me to eat Chipotle and drink Jamba Juice on multiple occassions. You were due on November 20th and I couldn’t wait to meet you.
Then November 20th came and went. Thanksgiving came and went. You were comfortable where you were. That meant induced labor…