Saturday, February 27, 2010

It's a ... Troublemaker!

Yesterday we had our first trimester screening, and we also had our first introduction to our baby's personality. And it was trouble.

Despite the two large glasses of juice and the 1 LITER of water I drank before the ultrasound (hey, they say to come with a full bladder, and I didn't want to disappoint), BumpBaby decided not to cooperate. S/he laid on her/his comfortable side for a good 30 minutes, while I did the horizontal peepee dance on the ultrasound table, until the ultrasound technician was able to shake him/her into a profile.

And then ... I fell in love for the 1,000 time this pregnancy:
Of course nothing can be all good with my little troublemaker, so although I learned that s/he has less than 1 in 18,000 of a chance for Down syndrome and less than 1 in 20,000 for Trisomy 18, I also learned that I might have TWO UTERUSES.

Yep, not one cute heart-shaped one. Two completely separate uteruses (uteri?) with two completely separate cervixes (cervi?). Say what?

Unfortunately they can't make the distinction between the bicornuate uterus and the double-trouble uterus while I'm pregnant so I won't know for sure until after this baby is causing trouble outside my body rather than inside. But it's just something to add to the growing list of WTF?! Mysteries of "Me, Pregnant."

Thursday, February 25, 2010

I'm So Devolved

Sometimes I think evolution must be circular. Like, the further removed we feel from our hairy forefathers, the closer we get to becoming more like them.

There are the obvious examples (basically anything men do when trying to woo, impress or keep a woman), and then there are the more subtle examples. Examples like the following ... which puts an intelligent, (semi) confident woman like myself on the same evolutionary limb as a tree shew. Yes, a tree shrew.

I'll explain.

A little while after I found out I was pregnant (yay), but closer to the time I found out I have a disfigured uterus (boo), BumpMister and I went to NYC for the night. It was a beautiful weekend and we decided to go last minute to tourist it up - which included shopping, seeing Mama Mia! and spending about five hours perusing the Museum of Natural History.

We're dorks at heart so we love the museum. But the highlight of our trip was the "Hall of Evolution" (Ok, I don't think it was actually called that, but it sounds good.) Because in that hall is where we saw the following:


The title: REPRODUCTION HAS CHANGED.

The details:


For those of you who don't have laser vision, it says "The bicornuate uterus becomes simple." And then it shows the evolutionary progression of the uterus ... from a TREE SHREW to a HUMAN.

Because nothing in life or in pregnancy is "simple," this statement seemed, well, perfect. And instead of making me get all weepy eyed at the idea of my unsimple uterus holding my simply perfect baby, it made me and BumpMister laugh. Laugh, out loud, long and hard, standing alone in the middle of the Hall of Evolution.

Because I realized - I'm twice the woman a tree shrew will ever be. And if she can do it, I can do it.

Sunday, February 21, 2010

Grovel grovel

Hi. It's me.

I'm sorry.

I know I've been a bad friend - very selfish, only thinking about myself, not sharing. But I promise I'm back to my old self ... and I want our friendship back. Is that cool?

So I'm ready to spill the beans. Want a glass of wine first? I'm fine, thanks; I'll stick with the ginger ale. But I will have that chocolate cake. With ice cream. Thanks.

OK, here's the scoop: I'M PREGNANT. Oh, I already told you? Ok, well here's what has happened since:

After my fantabulous birthday present, I went to the doctor and peed on another stick - and I guess this is the legit stick, because I really didn't believe I was pregnant until this point. But it said I was, so, YAY.

Fast-forward a few weeks. I went for my first ultrasound. BumpMister came with me and it was all goody goody gumdrops. We saw the little pulsating lima bean on the screen, I cried ... it was very Nicholas Sparks. Until the ultrasound technician said, "Oh look, you're special."

Heart - stop. Just, stop. "Excuse me?"

"You have a special uterus. It's heart shaped." She smiled.

"Well what the hell does that mean?" By this point, BumpMister was holding my shoulders down on the exam bed so I wouldn't sit straight up.

"Oh ... the doctor will tell you more about it."

But she didn't. Not really. The doctor said it was called a bicornuate uterus and it may be a septate uterus and that it was nothing, really, there's just a slight chance for miscarriage or preterm labor.

What I heard, however, sounded like this: "Haha, gotcha! You think you're gonna have a baby? Think again! We're taking it back!"

I left the office in a daze, while BumpMister kept repeating what has become a mantra: "It's fine. The doctor said it's fine. Don't worry about it." I completely ignored him, and the second I got home I did the most horrible thing I have ever done: I Googled it.

Ladies, never Google. Google is the hope killer.

Anywhoo ... I'm going to skip over a few days (weeks) of crying and agonizing and let you know where I am right now.

Today I'm officially 11 weeks 3 days pregnant. All is wonderful. Last week we went for our second appointment and heard the baby's heartbeat on that Doppler thingie. BumpMister said it sounded like PacMan eating the pellets in the arcarde game. It did. But more wonderful.

I go for my scary ultrasound on Friday (the one to test for those bad diseases). I'm petrified. Not necessarily of downs syndrome or any of those, but of my stupid malformed uterus. But if all is OK, we're going to tell the world. Which scares me even more.

I tried to get pregnant for 14 months. And now that I am, I can't help but think it's going to be taken away. I'm trying trying TRYING to be positive. And this message board has helped a lot. But every once in a while, doubt sinks in.

So I'm back, because I need to share. Because if I don't share, I'm going to explode. So thanks for forgiving my shatty friendness. I promise to be there, if you are.