Sunday, September 13, 2015

What I didn't mention in my last post...

In my last post, I left out some big news. It's no secret to the people in my life, but to the blogging world of people who may, or may not read any of this at all, it went unmentioned.

I was going through some of the scariest trials of my life last I wrote over a year and a half ago. And not just because of how sick I was and how fast it happened, but because something else very big was going on too. 

Christmas Day 2013, I felt horrible. It felt like more than just my illness. After a long and tiring day of spending time with family, I said to my boyfriend (now fiancé) that I think I should take a pregnancy test. It was a digital that would say either "Yes +" or "No -", and before the result comes, there is an hour glass that blinks. Forever. And ever. And ever. 

I took the test, not really believing that I would be pregnant, and left it on the bathroom counter. I came out and my fiancé, a bundle of nerves, said, "So?!", me "Nothing yet". I kept going back in and checking, and just an hour glass. I finally decided to stop compulsively checking every 30 seconds and make myself busy with dishes. My fiancé disappeared for a second and then I heard, "Oh my God". I laughed. Literally, I laughed. I thought he was messing with me, being the joker that he was. I walked into the bathroom and said "Come on, are you fucking with me right now?"  He just stared at me wide-eyed and mouth open, the test still sitting on the counter. "Well come on! Let me see it!".  I walked over to it, and "Yes +" was on the screen. 

My hand immediately covered my mouth and my gaze shot up at my fiancé who was now cracking an open mouthed smile. This was obviously unplanned, but we'd had the "What if" conversation already. Hell, we already had all our future kids names picked out. So he said "Are we doing this?", and I replied with a chuckle, "Well...yeah, I guess we are!"

Then, the most terrifying dose of reality hit me that I had actually forgotten for that moment of shock: You're sick. You're really sick. You're wasting away and you haven't gotten help. What in the ever-loving fuck are you doing. 

This is what prompted me to finally seek medical attention for my illness. Messing around with my health and well-being is one thing, but like hell I would put my unborn child in harms way. I made the decision, work your next three shifts at the hospital  and go to the ER  the next day. That was New Year's Eve, New Year's Day, and the day following. I knew I would need the money for everything that was ahead. So I trucked through it, and after that last shift, I caught a couple hours of sleep and took myself to the emergency room. 

When I got there to check in and told them all my symptoms and what brought me in, I added at the end "And I am pregnant, too" and then burst into tears. I was ashamed, scared, and exhausted. I guess I should also add, that my fiancé didn't understand the extent of my illness at the time. I tried explaining it to him but he never really got how bad it was. My family too.  I was 7 weeks pregnant when I was admitted 

That is what made everything so scary. Losing weight, taking medications that I was afraid would affect my baby, and being on an immunosuppressive infusion during my was all so...fuck, it was scary. There is no other way to describe it. 

I had amazing doctors, and whenever I hesitated to agree with a treatment plan, they would remind me that my baby NEEDS a healthy mama to survive. That's what kept me forging ahead and agreeing to do whatever was needed to do and trusting them that it was safe and needed to be done. 

This has gotten long enough so fast forward, August 17, 2014, Declan Michael was born at a very healthy 7lbs 15oz, 21in long. It was the best day of my life. By the time I was well into my second trimester of pregnancy, my disease was in remission and I had the most wonderful and enjoyable pregnancy I could have ever hoped for. 

When I wrote my last post, I had no clue if my baby would make it. I prayed and begged and hoped he would. But the truth is that I was seriously unsure. At one point during the worst of my illness, my hemoglobin level was 6.5! For those not in the medical profession, that is a measure of the amount of proteins attached to your red blood cells carrying oxygen to the rest of your body. 6.5 is critical. It's life threatening it's not enough for normal functioning organs. Bottom line is that I was terrified. I stayed as positive and as hopeful as I could, but terrified. Who wouldn't be?

However, despite all the odds and what I consider to be truly a miracle (just as every single baby is, in my opinion), I had my beautiful boy with me, and as I type this, I am on my couch with him sleeping soundly in the next room. He is now over a year old. He is beautiful, hilarious, stubborn, curious, affectionate, and has the kindest heart and most beautiful soul of any person I know. Transit umbra, lux permanet has never rung so true. 

Until next time...

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