Facing Fears

     When I was about 31, I got into my head that what I wanted was to have a baby.  My husband and I had been married 3 years and my biological clock was banging in my head.  I had a lot of problems before that with endometriosis  that necessitated countless laser surgeries equaling loads of scar tissue, and a great deal of pain.  Because of that, getting pregnant wasn’t as easy as I had imagined it would be.

      I took my temperature, took drugs to make me ovulate, and drugs to make me stop.  I was all out of whack.    Finally after months of trying, I hit the jackpot.  I was pregnant, and my husband and I were over the moon with happiness.    From the moment I became pregnant,  I was constantly sick with nausea, vomiting, and diarrhea.  If a stiff breeze blew on me I would toss my cookies.  I was completely miserable but at least I had a good reason.  I was going to have a baby, and I couldn’t wait.

      One day I heard the heart beat for the first time.  Then came the unmistakable butterfly movements and the growing belly.  When I was just past 5 months, I began to spot.  My doctor immediately put me on bed rest and scheduled an ultrasound.  I was so excited because I was going to see my baby for the first time, and if I was lucky discover its gender.  I eagerly drank what seemed like gallons of water to prepare for the ultrasound and felt like I would explode if they so much as touched me.

  

      I remember laying down on the table, feeling the gel they spread on my belly, and peering at the monitor searching for my baby.  The technician was silent as she focused on the monitor.  After a while, she patted my hand and told me she would be right back.  I laid there oblivious.  She came back carrying a telephone and told me my doctor would like to speak to me.  Seemed a little odd at the time, but I had never had a baby before, or an ultrasound…so I didn’t realize this was a very bad sign.  He cut right to the chase and broke my heart with the unsuspected news that my baby was dead.  The sobs that spilled from me shook my whole body as the technician tried her best to comfort me.  The doctor told me that the only way I would ever have the chance at a healthy baby was to remove this one as soon as possible.  I agreed to the surgery to be scheduled in a couple days and went home devastated.

          With the loss of my baby, I lost the desire to become pregnant. I quit taking the pills to make me ovulate and taking my temperature.  I went on with life trying to forget, knowing I never would.   Six months later, I was pregnant again.  This time, I refused to get my hopes up and  to believe that history wouldn‘t repeat itself.  Even after I became noticeably pregnant and felt the baby kick often, I still couldn’t believe that this baby would survive through my gestational diabetes and high blood pressure.  I was terrified it would die like the first.

        Because of all the scar tissue, I was scheduled for a cesarean section.  Right up to seconds before I was wheeled to the operating room, all I wanted was to have whatever it was that was making me desperately sick out of me.  I wanted the pregnancy over with.  I was tired.  I was terrified, and certain that even though this baby appeared normal and fine that at the last minute it would die.  I am 5 foot tall and at that moment, I resembled the blueberry girl in “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory”.  You could have placed me on my side and rolled me around.  I desperately wanted to be sent to the juicing room and be squeezed till I was thin again. HA!  You would have thought all that peeing would have done the trick.

       I had a daughter!  She was beautiful, and better yet…she was alive and healthy.  The nurse brought my newborn over to me.  She was screaming at the top of her lungs until I spoke to her.  She immediately stopped and looked at me, and I dissolved into tears of amazement and happiness.   I remember thinking at that moment that I was witnessing what life is truly all about.


       With my daughter’s birth, I conquered and overcame my fears of being pregnant and coming out with a broken heart.    Until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.