365 days ago today my world was changed FOREVER.
Looks like my uterus grew a penis, right? That was actually what I said to my OB when she showed me the picture. But alas, I was not growing boy parts on my insides - that was my kid. You are looking at my very first ultrasound picture. God had put his thumbprint on my womb and I was with child. If you've read "And Then God Laughed", then you know I had less than planned for this, and was shocked - to say the least. However, once the dust settled I realized that my dream had come true. Literally and figuratively. About 6 years ago I actually had a dream about my daughter; saw her face and everything. So though I wasn't prepared, I was ready. But a few short weeks later everything came to a screeching halt.
I started spotting.
I called my doctor immediately who told me to come in as soon as I could. I drove like a bat out of hell to meet my honey so he could drive the rest of the way to her office. She examined me and said it was most likely the beginning of a miscarriage, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. My body had to run its course. She sent me home and ordered me to stay there for the next few days. Broken hearted and filled with an unexplainable grief, we drove home in complete silence. I had never inhaled air that thick in my life. Sadness filled my nostrils with every.single.breath. I went home and waited. It's the weirdest feeling, and I'm going to put it the best way I know how. And I apologize now if it's too blunt for some readers, but this is how it felt for me:
My doctor sent me home to feel a prolonged death.
That's honestly how I felt about the whole thing. I was angry and sad and confused and every other adjective they teach you for "sad" in elementary school. So I sat. And I waited. I went to bed not knowing if the morning would greet me with more death or not. Before I closed my eyes I had a small conversation with the little person I was attempting to grow and told her that she had a job to do in there, and it was to hold on tight and be strong. I told her I would handle business in the outside world but she HAD to handle business in there. Then I closed my eyes and prayed for the best.
The next day came and at first I thought perhaps we were in the clear - the spotting had ceased and I felt pretty okay. It wasn't until that afternoon that I felt my luck might really be running out.
I was now bleeding. Not spotting. Bleeding.
Once again I rushed to the hospital and kind of braced myself for the D&C my doctor had explained would be necessary. Death was at my baby's door. I remember thinking "this is the most UN-FAIR moment of my life". A few things happened before I actually saw my doctor, and I'm not going to go too far into it except to say that at one point I was surrounded by a flurry of nurses and I think I screamed and my honey caught me. The next thing I remember is my doctor coming in and saying she was sorry, and that as part of procedure she had to scope me to make sure everything came out. Silence. And then, this:
No, it's not a kewpie doll. That's my daughter. Somehow through all that chaos she managed to do just what I had asked her to do. She held on. The doctor showed me her heart beating ever so rapidly and we joked about how she had never seen such a formed figure on her ultrasound machine before.
I like to think it was my daughters way of letting us know in no uncertain terms that she wasn't going anywhere.
Due to the chaos that had just ensued, my doctor decided to err on the side of caution and put me on bed rest for the remainder of my first trimester. Not easy for a girl who likes to think she's got a bigger planner than Oprah. But for my daughter, I rested.
As time went on we saw this:
And then this:
And finally, this:
Now, I'm not going to say that my pregnancy was smooth sailing after that huge ordeal. I had bouts of terrible heartburn, to where I felt like someone had lit a pilot light in the back of my throat. At seven months I had to kiss my heels goodbye, for my once pretty little toes had been replaced by Hobbit feet. Through out my entire third trimester I felt like my vagina was lifting 50 pound weights. I wish I could make that last one up but it's true. My entire pelvic region was having a major anxiety attack. I jokingly referred to it as ETSD - Early Traumatic Stress Disorder. I couldn't complain too much though, because it was all just a reminder that I still had something so precious inside of me, gearing up to grace the world with her presence.
So, 365 days ago I had
and today I have
Never underestimate the difference a year can make.