Final Amnio Results
The lab didn’t screw up! Yesterday morning I checked my voice mail at work and received an unceremonious message from my doctor’s office that “your lab results came back okay.” The woman on the machine sounded tired and the news lost some of its punch but still, we are relieved that the waiting period over.
Now R. and I are in the “this is real” mode and acting uncharacteristically giggly and sweet, imagining what it will be like to hold our new baby, to see it’s little mouth make sucking motions, or cuddle up on R.’s chest to sleep. I know it won’t be all sweet and heartbreaking. I know it will be hard and stressful, too. But for now we need to have this happy period that we’ve denied ourselves for so long.
Still, I am only at the end of my fourth month and the remaining five feel endless.
Preliminary Amnio Results
Dr. L. called today with good news. Yippee! The preliminary results mean there is a 99% chance that all is well. Darn. There’s that one percent again. But we are thrilled with the results, even if we have to wait another two weeks for the 100% okay. Dr. L. explained that there is a 1/1000 chance that preliminary test (they stain the cells) produced an incorrect reading. For the past ten years, their labs had a 100% accuracy rate. But three months ago one woman was given a-okay preliminary results and the conclusive testing showed otherwise. Poor woman. But we couldn’t have had better news today so I will stop whining and worrying for now. And try to be happy without being suspicious.
Adventures in Amnio
On Tuesday we had the amnio. Over. Done with. Now we wait.
But back to the amnio…it started out promising with an ultrasound pre-show. This was especially nice because R. had only seen the rapid and blurry CVS ultrasound a few weeks ago. But this time we made sure the technician took her time and pointed out what was going on, not that we needed much help identifying the punching fists, the fish bone spine, the shadows of his or her brain. And it was the first time R. saw the heartbeat. Sigh. It was a little emotional as our blob is becoming more and more real. Which makes this test all the more annoying.
Dr. L. told me I’d feel the needle go in and a little discomfort for about a minute. I deal with these things by not thinking about them and by not looking at needles. I watched the monitor — the baby was quiet, not moving around. Then I felt the needle go in and thought, that wasn’t so bad. Then it keep going in and I felt a pop which must have been the puncture of the uterus. I jumped. I watched the needle dive into my uterus on the screen and wake up the baby. As Dr. L. said, “You weren’t supposed to jump” we watched the baby swat at the needle with both fists. R. panicked. “Did you hit it?” Dr. L. said, “Don’t worry, the needle can’t hurt it.” Was that a definitive answer? We still debate. Once the needle was in, the baby kicked into action, curious, we think, about this new event in it’s environment. Think about it. If a giant needle plunged through your roof, wouldn’t you try to touch it or push it away?
Later R. told me he had to turn away. Again, he sat to my left and behind me so I couldn’t see him during the procedure. Still, last night, he questioned whether the baby was hit by the needle or not. I never thought it did. Because the ultrasound was 2D, it was hard to tell where all the bits and pieces really were. After R. brought up his doubts for the tenth time since the procedure, I started to doubt it to. But I know it is silly. Everything went fine, if not a little surprising.
No cramping or frightful gushing of fluids after the procedure. For that I am thankful because I’ve come to expect the 1% things to happen to me. The fluid she extracted looked like it was tinged with iodine (anyone remember sunbathing with baby oil and iodine?). She said it was the pigment from the blood in my hematoma which is still there (darn) but looks like it is healing. Again, can’t get too worked up about things. Heal, hematoma, heal.
We just want good test results so we can start enjoying this pregnancy because the further along we get, and the bigger I get, the more excited we become. I want to let myself sink into that excitement, but I still have the brakes on.
Fourteen weeks and sixteen pounds
Yesterday I had my monthly visit with the OB. Everything appears to proceeding as it should, but the whole pregnancy still feels like a mystery. First, the nurse comes in and tells R. and I that she is going to check for the heartbeat. She places what looks like the microphone end of a mini-recorder on my abdomen and pokes around. We hear a loud static, as if she is trying to tune into an out of range radio station. Then we hear a loud, quick pulse, a swooshing of airwaves. “There it is,” she says. It’s the heartbeat of a marathon runner. “It sounds really fast,” R. says, concerned. “Yes, it’s supposed to be that fast.” It occurs to me that R. hasn’t been reading any pregnancy books, or even listening to half the things I tell him. Or maybe he doesn’t make the connection until he experiences it himself.
This is the first time he meets Dr. L. We like that she is matter of fact and direct and not reactionary. Especially about my bleeding, which has turned into continuous spotting. I haven’t had any fresh blood for two weeks, but the old, dark stuff keeps coming. I’m still not convinced the clot (or subchorionic hematoma) is going away — not until I see it with my own eyes which will be on Tuesday before the amnio.
I’m a bit distressed because I gained five pounds this month — I know, I’m pregnant. But Dr. L. gave me the weight gain rules at the beginning. First trimester = 2 pounds. Second trimester = 1 pound every other week. Third trimester = 1 pound a week. I think it comes out to 25 pounds. But really, how are you not supposed to gain twice that much? I think I’m up to what I should gain by the end of the second trimester. I tell her I don’t think I am eating that much, and she says, that’s what everyone tells me.I can’t even look at sweets. I no longer snack at night. I actually eat regular meals. Then I think about the variety of potato chips and Fritos I’ve consumed in the past two weeks, and the ham and cheese paninis that are the only thing I can stomach at night. And there’s the Gatorade I drink by the quart because water is so unappealing. But more important is my lack of exercise. I’ve not been this sedentary since high school, when I went through a depressed phase and slept all the time and ate bags of Doritos. Oh, I’ve been eating those, too. Two weeks after the last sign of spotting, I can resume exercise. It feels a long way off.
Last week I had my first reprieve from feeling sick. It lasted about two days. Then this past weekend I was back to my old, couch-ridden, TV watching self. Eating potato chips which for some reasons I can always eat. This week I had another slight reprieve, but it’s back again. I know it will eventually go away, but will the sensitivity to smell? Last night, from our apartment, I smelled someone eating french fries on the street. Later, I could have sworn someone opened a bag of cat food in the room. Where are these smells coming from? And walking down Broadway on a hot summer day…it requires holding one’s nose and heading west to Riverside as soon as possible.
Enough complaining. I didn’t write much this week because I didn’t want it to sound all bad. I’m patiently waiting for the happy phase of pregnancy.
