I’m just going to put it out there. I cannot wait for this year to be over. I’m so done with 2012 and to be honest, I was done about 8 months ago. This year has totally kicked my ass and I need to get it behind me.
One of the worst things you can hear when you’re at the doctor’s office is the non-specific, “There seem to be some complications.” Needless to say, this year has been one complication after another for me. It started in January when I had complications with a previous surgery. Then in February, I had a miscarriage with complications that nearly killed me. Afterwards were two months of a difficult recovery that also had me see both a pulmonary embolism and a breast cancer scare. I was terrified the entire time it took to get the results in.
With all that behind me, I found out I was pregnant at the end of May. While it was unplanned, I was excited to finally put all my health worries behind me to concentrate on the new pregnancy. However, what I have realized is that no matter how bad your own personal health scares are, nothing compares to the health scares of your children. And that’s where I’m at right now.
Almost immediately after finding out I was pregnant, I found out that I had complications. Ah, that word again. See how it just creeps up on you? I was referred to a hematologist who let me know I have clinically significant and dangerous antibodies in my blood that can be fatal for my unborn child. The kicker is that this also means it will get progressively more dangerous each time I am pregnant. I’ve never before cried in a doctor’s office but that day I did.
There isn’t much anyone can do when you have antibodies in your blood. Basically, it results in a lot of tests and monitoring. And waiting and waiting and waiting. My biggest relief came when I passed the 26 week mark. My ob/gyn had advised me that we wouldn’t know if the pregnancy would be viable until after 26 weeks. Well, I’m past that mark now and you can bet I’m breathing just a little bit easier.
It’s not over though. I still worry every day for things to be okay and pray that the tests being done will say everything is fine. What keeps me going at times is the baby’s kicks. I can feel this baby kicking me every day and to me, that’s a sign that it is fighting to come out into this world. That it’s not giving up on me and my defective body. This baby is doing what comes naturally to all babies—letting mommy know that it’s here and that it’s a force to be reckoned with so watch out. That one little kick is enough to reassure me even when I’m feeling my most defeated. And if this baby’s not giving up, neither am I.
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