I woke up hungry despite the fact that Kolby had taken me to a late
dinner at my favorite restaurant to help me get through the “no food after
midnight” rule. You’d think all those
chips and queso would have stuck around longer than they did.
I wandered around, not sure what to do at home on a weekday. It was a nice day outside, which helped my
mood. My parents would be there by 11,
but that still left a few hours to kill.
My car registration had been expired since October but it seemed as good
a day as any to finally take care of that, so I went to the tax office.
I saw a call come in from Kolby’s mom, but I didn’t really feel like
talking.
My parents arrived early as usual and we chatted for a while but the
conversation was superficial. There
wasn’t much to say.
The time came and I hopped in the backseat of their car like I was a
kid again and they drove me to a hospital surgery center that none of us had
been to. Dad dropped us off and went
across town to run a couple errands since my surgery wouldn’t be for another
few hours.
Mom and I filled out the usual paperwork and pretended like things were
normal, even making a few jokes here and there like we always do. The receptionist said my doctor wasn’t there
yet but that when he gets there he usually moves through patients pretty
quickly. I still couldn’t figure out why
they made us get there so early.
Next thing I knew a nurse opened the door and called me back. I peed in a cup, confirmed a bunch of stuff
on my medical chart, and received my hospital bracelet. My nurse was sweet to me, and it made me
realize why people become nurses. She
really did make the day easier.
I thought they had told me that after I took care of a few things
they’d send me back to the waiting room, but it seemed I was there to say. I asked when my mom would be able to come
back.
I changed into a gown, put on the hairnet, and took my place in the
reclined chair bed. I was in some type
of patient holding area where we were only separated by curtains, but I couldn’t
tell how many people were there or where the operating rooms were. My nurse came in and out a few times and at
one point mentioned the anesthesiologist would be by shortly. I asked again when my mom would be able to
come back.
A lot raced through my mind, but I felt calm. Peaceful.
I thought about how saying sayonara to this cyst was the start of the
latest phase in our adventure to have a baby.
In that sense, it was a good thing.
I thought about how I’d never been under general anesthesia before. I remembered being there when an anesthesiologist
came in to talk to a friend of mine about her C-section, and how brave she was
even though she was scared. But mostly,
I just thought about how badly I wanted a baby.
Somewhere nearby I heard the voice of Dr. P, my fertility
specialist. He was talking to another patient
and I tried to eavesdrop. What was she
in for? IVF? Did she have endometriosis too? I was annoyed that the chatter at the nurses’
station was interfering with my inquisition.
But then I turned my attention to what the nurses were saying.
“I don’t know, it’s hard to
tell.”
They were whispering, which made me even more curious.
“Yeah, it’s really close.”
“These things are so hard to read.”
My heart started pounding. I
mean, POUNDING. I could literally feel
every beat, and my face got hot and tingly.
Something about the way they were talking, I just knew they were looking
at a pregnancy test.
But even if they were, I’m literally surrounded by women who would give
ANYTHING for those nurses to be talking about them.
Still, I had a hunch it was me.
Or maybe it was just a hope. So
much for the feeling of peace that I had earlier. That flew right out the window and all I
could think about was getting to the bottom of this conversation. Chances were that they were actually talking
about something totally different, but my mind had already run off with the
it’s-a-pregnancy-test story. I got
really upset at them for not being more discreet (i.e. letting nosy people like
me get their hopes up).
So there I was, with my hands cupped around my ears like an old man,
trying to hear better. The conversation
was more of the same, but I caught a “Well I’m not, maybe we should test mine
and compare.” BINGO. It was definitely a pregnancy test. But WHOSE?
And WAS IT STINKIN’ POSITIVE OR NOT?!?!
My mind was a whirlwind.
Then the moment I will never forget for the rest of my life.
My sweet nurse walked in holding a paper towel across the palms of her
hands. I cupped my face. She stepped closer and lowered her hands. There was a pregnancy test laying on it.
I somehow squeezed out, “Am I
pregnant?” to which she responded with a memorable, “I don’t know. But I think so.”
I started to cry. Then came one
of my favorite parts of the story. My
sweet nurse put her hand on my shoulder and told me it’s going to be okay. She had seen my mom bring me in, I didn’t
have my rings on, and without makeup or my hair done I look half my age. The poor lady thought she was experiencing a
real life “Sixteen and Pregnant” episode.
Ha! When I told her, “No, I’m
excited, we’ve been trying for years.” she said, “Oh, praise Jesus!” Indeed, girlfriend; indeed.
She was still really wishy-washy about the whole is-it-positive-or-not
thing, but to someone who had taken dozens of pregnancy tests, I knew what I
was looking for. The line doesn’t have
to be dark, it just has to be there.
I won’t even try to put into words what I felt. I was speechless for literally the first time
in my life. I didn’t even know what to
think. I asked what this meant and my nurse
said, “Girl, it means you aren’t having surgery today if there is a chance you
are pregnant. You can’t go under
anesthesia in your first trimester.”
Trimester. Hearing that word woke me up. A real pregnancy word, spoken about me. I was hit with a flood of emotions. Mostly excitement. Some fear.
Disbelief. A lot of hope.
Dr. P walked in and gave me a playful pretend slap on the cheek. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t even supposed to be
possible. I asked him what I needed to
do, and he said to get dressed immediately and drive to his office to get blood
work done. He said that urine tests
aren’t reliable and that only a blood test can tell us if I’m really
pregnant. He vehemently cautioned me not
to get excited yet. (Yeah right.)
I asked if he could have the nurse send my mom back. He asked why, and I said that I needed to
tell her what was going on (duh). “I’ve
already told her.” Yep, that’s another
part of the story I’ll never forget. I’d
waited so long to get to announce to my parents that I was pregnant, and a tiny
Indian man whom they’d never met scooped me!
I threw my clothes on and walked into the waiting room and straight
into my mom’s embrace. We both
cried. A box of Kleenex appeared at my
shoulder and when I turned my head I saw that it came from the receptionist,
who was also crying. Ha!
My dad came screeching up to the hospital pull through and with his
window down yelled, “You might be pregnant?!?!” We hopped in, bee-lined it to the doctor’s
office, had my blood drawn, swung by Chic-Fil-A for the best food I’ve ever
tasted and went home.
By this time it was 4pm, which was when my surgery was scheduled for
and when Kolby was getting out of school to head to the hospital. I called him.
“Hey. How am I talking to
you? Aren’t you supposed to be in
surgery?”
“I’m not having surgery today
because they think I might be pregnant.”
That “WHAT?!?” had so much hope and excitement in it, I wish I could have
bottled up the emotion of his voice.
The rest of the day was kind of a blur.
We sent my parents away so we could wait for the results of the blood test
alone together. It was the longest
evening of our lives. We finally got the
call from Dr. P around 9pm. The blood
test was positive as well, but he cautioned us again not to get excited yet
because I’d need another round of blood work in three days to see whether my
counts were rising, indicating a viable pregnancy. The call certainly left us with a mix of
emotions, but we chose to cling to the excitement of the good part—we were
pregnant!
I don’t remember what happened after that, other than at one point
Kolby decided he needed to go for a run.
He doesn’t run. But I think he
had so many emotions going on he just needed to flee the scene and cry and try
to process everything. I wasn’t sure
what to do myself, but standing alone in the living room wasn’t cutting it so I
took Maya and we both sat on the front porch in the cool night air and waited
for Kolby to get back.
Then the three of us sat there, still not having any idea what on earth
to do with ourselves. We decided to call
up our pastor and drop in on him and his wife to share the news (we needed to
tell someone but didn’t want to really let the cat out of the bag until we got
more blood work done).
They prayed for us and blessed this vulnerable new life inside me. Then our pastor pulled out a collection of
cards with my name on them, which had been collected as prayer requests during
the Lenten sermon series on healing.
PCOS and endometriosis be damned—nothing is impossible for God.
We went home and crawled into bed, still too overcome with emotion to grasp
the day’s events. We probably talked
less than we ever had before. There was
still so much uncertainty, fear. But boy
was there hope—a passionate longing tucked deep in our hearts.
I woke up in the middle of the night and just started bawling. I’ve never been good at processing emotion in
the moment. It always seems to creep up
on me later on, when I least expect it.
I snuggled closer to Kolby and found this peace: God miraculously created this life; it was
safe in His arms.
***
March 30, 2013:
***
How fitting that it is Easter, a
celebration of redemption.
"Weeping may tarry for the night,
but joy comes with the morning.
You have turned for me my mourning into
dancing
you have loosed my sackcloth
and clothed me with gladness,
that my glory may sing your praise and
not be silent.
O
Lord my God, I will give thanks to you forever!"
Psalm 30:5b, 11-12
