Impossible Possibility - 02

I remembered this feeling: Sitting in my OBGYN’s office three months earlier, watching the countless women stream in and out with husbands by their side holding doors open for them—all with the swell of their bellies in different stages of pregnancy. I sat there with my soon to be husband, my hand in his, silently observing the goings on. The feeling was one of sadness, having been told that I couldn’t conceive.

The feeling was one that I am sure many have had. That deep yearning that comes at a particular time in one’s life. The sorrow that prevails seems to have voice and with such conviction we find ourselves silently repeating an ill-willed mantra: ‘that will never be me’. Yet, here I sit again, husband by my side, hand in hand. Had the tables turned? Had my fate been altered in one swift stroke of happenstance?

I barely slept through the previous night as the conversation with my OB played over again like a broken record in my head. The fear of the unknown was overriding the reality. I couldn’t seem to believe I was pregnant. I was consumed with questions, wanting and needing to be reassured in some way. I had to wrestle and release the inevitable: life never, ever had any guarantees.

The drive down from our mountain home was long and the foggy streets of San Francisco seemed unreal. Waiting was excruciating. Watching the hands on our clock move at a snail’s pace, each red light we hit along the way…and it was to be just the start of a grand teaching in patience. It’s true what they say: patience is a virtue. It’s precious.

The early morning hour at the doctor’s office was not yet crowded but their were enough bellies to observe. Was it possible I now had something in common with all of these women? Could it be that in a few months time I too would be back, monitoring weight, blood, heartbeat, swollen feet, and all of the other wonders that go along with pregnancy. Had our options miraculously shifted?

Matthew squeezed my hand, sensing my apprehension. I just needed a few more cards on the table—a bit more information. We would figure it out from there.

We hadn’t been seated for more than a few minutes before my name was called. Following a young nurse back down the long hall she showed us to a room, took my vitals and after instructing me to remove my clothes from the waist down she left, shutting the door behind her.

I was still challenged by my post surgical spine. Matthew helped me out of my back brace, slipped off my shoes and one leg at a time pulled my sweatpants off. After covering me with the thin paper robe that had been folded on the table, he sat back down and we both silently watched the door. And we waited.

I could hear my doctor’s voice down the hall and in a moment with a quick knock the door swung open. Jordan Horowitz stood in his blue scrubs and white Doctor’s smock and grinned. He was happy. And it startled me. But for the first time since hearing the crazy news I thought, if he could be happy for us, permission was granted for us to be as well.

At least for this moment.

“OK guys, how amazing is this?” he grinned. I felt like he was trying to give us a pep talk, boost our spirits and also attempt to get a read on how we were dealing with the news.

He opened my file and we reviewed it. Flipping through the pages to review the blood work he reconfirmed the fact that it had been understood it was a highly unlikely possibility that I could or would conceive.

“So this is a wonderful miracle,” he exclaimed, “let’s take a look and see what we have here.” He pulled the ultrasound machine over to the table I was lying on, gently lifted up the paper robe covering my belly and squeezing some KY jelly onto my abdomen pressed the ultrasound wand just bellow my navel and began to search for signs of life.

An entire universe unfolded on the screen before us. We watched in wonder as we traveled through a galaxy called my womb. And then there it was—or was it? We passed it and circled back around, like a sun orbiting the earth. A flicker of light radiated out. It looked like a star in the night’s sky. And there, in the darkness of a teeny tiny watery sac, amidst the expanse of my vast uterus, that flickering, steady pulsation of light—a heart beat.

“Well, there it is!” he confirmed. Matthew stood in awe. I reached to grab his hand. Big salty tears began to make their way down my cheeks. I was blown away. What was an impossible possibility was now quite possible. It was actually now a fact. I was indeed pregnant.

Jordan measured the fetus and gave us a five week six day age. That meant I was just 4 weeks when the back surgery was performed. Turning on the overhead lights the monitor faded into the background. “Let’s just check your uterus,” he said and the vaginal exam further confirmed the early stage of what was appearing to be a normal pregnancy. “Your uterus is enlarged and all looks perfectly well. Why don’t you get dressed and we can talk.”

I rolled to my side and Matthew stood to help me up, easing my feet back through pant legs, socks pulled over toes and laced up my shoes. We were quiet but connected. Raw, yet eased somehow by the image we lay witness to. The real discussion was about to begin and we both had a million questions to ask.

A few moments later we were all in a huddle, Jordan back in the room with a new file and paper work for the genetic counselor office located in the affiliated hospital across the street. Cal Pacific fertility center was one of the leading in the nation and this was where he was referring us to.

I started in. “Jordan, what does this mean. What can you tell me? How can I be sure…?”

He cut me off with a smile and, “I can only tell you that this is a MIRACLE. There are many ways we can look at this and right now Carré and we just don’t have enough facts.” Jordan continued on with the next steps that I need to consult with the genetic specialists and get them my surgical report so they can crunch numbers. He said that there have been many studies that can tell exactly how much radiation exposure is safe and how much is too much.

He told us that radiation would be the biggest concern and next the anesthesia and the surgical report will have in it all the details. He said that the first trimester is usually an all or nothing deal: “If there is injury to the fetus in the first trimester you will miscarry. If the baby is healthy then the pregnancy will stick. And right now my dear, you are indeed pregnant. And I think that is just marvelous.”

Matthew and I exhaled. It was clearly going to be a test of patience and faith to get through this uncertainty. And right now our greatest test was how we were to manage our minds. Thanking Jordan and gathering our paperwork we all walked down the hall together. “I want to see you ten days from now. Let’s go from there. Meantime get into the geneticists and have them send me their report. Good luck.” And with that, a smile and handshake he was off, onto the next couple in need. Matthew held the door open for me and as we walked out past the registration desk the girl at the counter smiled and said, “Congratulations Carré!”

I was stunned. I suppose congratulations were in order. How about that? For better or worse, come hell or high water, I had succeeded in the unfathomable…my little body was pregnant. I thanked her and smiled back at Matthew who also had a big grin on his face.

Yeah, a little rejoicing was quite alright…

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