It was exactly two weeks ago that we found we are pregnant! And we found out yesterday that we are having a BOY! I know, I know.... you're probably wondering "How can THAT be? Don't you have to wait MONTHS before finding out what the sex of your baby is?" Well, yes, in most circumstances, that is the case. In this specific circumstance, not so much.
And the story begins. And it's a very long story, so maybe you should take a seat.
Back at the beginning of March, I was on my way home and I was feeling extremely warm. It was chilly outside, but I literally felt like my blood was boiling inside. When I got home from work, and went to get undressed, I was covered head-to-toe in huge blotchy hives. They were everywhere. They were on the bottoms of my feet, on the palms of my hands, my torso, my arms, down my legs and all over my back - EVERYWHERE. I did what most people would do. First, I panicked. Second, I called my husband to come home. Third, I walked my blotchy self to the drugstore to buy some Benedryl, thinking I was obviously having an allergic reaction to something. When the Benedryl didn't help, I thought I was dying. The next morning when the rash was worse, I called my Internist. My doctor dismissed the rash as a virus, took some blood work and sent me on my way. He told me I'd be better in a few days. He was right. I felt sick for about five days and the rash was completely gone in seven. Whew.
About a week later, I had the worst stomach ache I've ever had in my life. I wasn't nauseated, I just had a horrible burning in my stomach. Similar to the burning I was feeling when I broke out in the rash. I immediately thought the rash had something to do with it and I called my Internist to come back in. My doctor dismissed my symptoms, told me it most likely had nothing to do with the rash, and then told me to make an appointment to see a gastroenterologist. (Time check: This was about the end of March.)
Two weeks later, I was in to see a gastroenterologist. Some tests were taken, but the doctor coughed my "condition" up to a woman who needed to exercise more (I'm 115 pounds and 5'4), drink more water (ok, so I could do that!), take in more fiber, and eat healthier (again, I'm 115 pounds and 5'4). He then prescribed me some laxatives and sent me on my way. (Time check: Mid-April.)
I didn't take the laxatives because I honestly didn't think I needed them. But I did do everything else he asked me to. I began eating even healthier than I ever have before (I must add that my husband and I never really eat processed/frozen foods. I make everything fresh. Fresh vegetables, fresh fruit, fresh fish, fresh chicken, whole grain pastas and rice is our nutrition!). I started taking Pilates again.
A few weeks passed and my pants were getting tight. Like, tight tight. OUT OF NO WHERE. And my stomach, well, my stomach wasn't feeling any better with the change of diet. It wasn't until I went to put on a pair of shorts I wore at the beginning of April while I was on vacation visiting my best friend in Florida, that I honestly really really thought something was wrong. They didn't fit. It's the beginning of May and I went to Florida FOUR weeks ago and wore the same shorts just fine, and now, they aren't even close to being buttoned.
In the middle of all of this, I had an annual exam with my obgyn. I told him that I was having stomach problems. I laughed about how my size 2 frame was slowly creeping to a size 4 while I was reaching my mid-thirties. I joked about it. Because, honestly, a size 4 at 32 years old (after having a baby!) isn't too bad, right? I was laughing on the outside but not too happy on the inside because I was really starting to think something was wrong. It was consuming my entire life.
So I was depressed for a couple of weeks. Cried to my mom a few times. Cried to my husband, like, every night. My body was looking the EXACT same, but I had a belly. i didn't understand WHY I was so bloated when I was eating so healthy! I know anyone reading this is like.... "Are you an idiot?" But let me make a brief statement before anyone starts to judge. My husband and I were told a little over three years ago that we would NOT be able to get pregnant on our own. Our little girl was conceived through fertility treatments. I injected myself with hormones every day for months to get pregnant with her. I do NOT get my period on my own. Our little Harper will be two years old in August and I've gotten my period THREE TIMES since she's been with us. And if that couldn't be any worse, my husband ALSO had fertility problems.
In the middle of May, my mom and my husband convinced me to get a second opinion at another gastroenterologist. I found this doctor through New York Magazine's BEST Doctor's in New York City article published every year. I chose the BEST doctor to go to for my "condition". I explained my situation over the telephone to a nurse and they got me in pretty fast. A week later, I was in to see a new doctor.
I explained my symptoms to him. I told him everything. Told him about the rash, the stomach aches, seeing my internist (TWICE!!!), a gastroenterologist and what he told me to do. I told him I saw my obgyn for an annual exam. This gastroenterologist was the FIRST doctor in months to ask if I may be pregnant. I told him no and explained to him why I didn't think I was. He examined me and when he pressed on my abdomen, I thought I was going to shoot through the ceiling. It was so much pain. SO MUCH PAIN. He left the examination room for a few minutes, came back in and asked me for the second time if my internist had taken blood work and if I'd gotten results back. They had taken blood work and I told him everything came back fine. He then said, and I remember it perfectly: "I want you to get dressed and sit with my nurse. She is going to call the hospital to make an appointment for you to get a catscan of your abdomen. If they have an appointment for you now, I would suggest you go now. If not today, then tomorrow. It has to be no later than tomorrow. I want to see you again at the end of the week."
At this point, I remain calm. I leave the office in a bit of a daze and as I'm on the train, I'm thinking to myself. I have cancer. I have a husband and a great job and a cute baby, and I'm probably going to die.
The next day, I go to the hospital for the catscan. When they call me back, they begin to ask me sets and sets of questions. One of which is "Are you allergic to iodine?" I tell the doctor that I don't believe I am, but that my dad is severely allergic. They tell me I have to premedicate for 24-hours before testing to eliminate any chance of a severe allergic reaction. At this point, I'm totally a mess. I just want the tests done. I leave the hospital with a prescription for prednisone that I have to begin taking immediately, and I need to come back to the hospital in the morning to begin tests.
I get on the train, completely a wreck. Get home and walk to the same drugstore I bought Benedryl in just 11 weeks earlier. When the pharmacist is ringing me up for payment, she looks right at me and says, "You aren't pregnant, are you? If you are pregnant, you CAN NOT take this medication. This medication is harmful to a fetus." I tell her that I'm not pregnant. I pay for the medication and as I'm walking out of the drugstore, I decide to get a pregnancy test just for the hell of it. I buy the cheapest Walgreens brand pregnancy test. I didn't even buy a two-pack! I bought ONE! I get home and ask Harper to come in the bathroom with me while I pee on the stick. The stick that I know is going to be NEGATIVE... but wait wait..... there is a PLUS. YES, THERE IS A PLUS! WHAT? WHAT? WHATTTTT????
At this point, I think I'm reading the test incorrectly. There is NO WAY. NOOOOOO WAY. I'm looking at the box and I'm looking at the instructions. WHY DIDN'T I BUY A TWO PACK?! This can't be right. There is NO WAY!
I call my husband at work. I'm panicked, to put it mildly. I'm having a total nervous breakdown. I'm thinking of all I've done over the past three months. OH MY GOD, could I REALLY be THAT pregnant? NO. NO WAY. I've drank. I've smoked. I've eaten sushi. I've eaten deli meat. Oh God, I've done Pilates! I've drank Metamucil! I haven't taken prenatal vitamins!!!!! So I'm full blown breakdown. I hang up with my husband and call my mom. Now, I'm REALLY having a nervous breakdown. I won't even repeat what I said because I was in absolute shock and probably said things that I REALLY REALLY DID NOT MEAN TO SAY.
Once I calmed down, I called my obgyn as an "emergency" call. Fast forward to the next morning when I'm in his office with the vag wand up my cooch like I had done MANY MANY times before while I was going through fertility treatments. My obgyn mentions that the baby is probably too small for a regular ultrasound. At this point, we have NOOO idea how far along I am. The internal sonogram shows a baby in my uterus! I see an entire body. Head, abdomen, legs, arms and a heartbeat, the little heartbeat. My doctor says, "You're NOT in your first trimester!" We begin to do a regular ultrasound, and it shows: "This baby is 15 weeks and 4 days. Welcome to your second trimester.... almost 4 weeks ago! You are, definitely, PREGNANT!"
We had our first sonogram yesterday. Today marks 17 weeks and 4 days pregnant with our second child. A BOY! We are shocked and thrilled and excited. Needless to say, we are angry at doctors (more to write about with that). We are happy this pregnancy was NOTHING like it was when I was pregnant with Harper. I wasn't sick at all. I mean, obviously, I had some stomach issues. I went to see a gastroenterologist!! But I haven't been nauseated and no puking! And on top of all of that, I look GREAT. I mean, I REALLY LOOK GREAT. I ate so healthy during my first trimester that I only gained 5 pounds in 16 weeks. With Harper, I'd already gained 15 at this stage. I was exercising and drinking a shitload of water (so my skin looks amazing!), and well, gotta say it again, I LOOK REALLY GOOD.
So since my pregnancy is almost half over (!!!!! - yes, that needs 5 exclamations!), it's time to start thinking about our fourth floor walk up to our 900 square foot, 2 bedroom apartment. More on that later.
But WE ARE PREGNANT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ON OUR OWN!!! NO more fertility treatments ever again in my life. We are thrilled that we got pregnant the way it was supposed to happen, even if it was unexpected. Unexpected is my life. I'd have it NO OTHER WAY.