Where have I been?  Well, in short, I found out why I was so exhausted and sleeping so many hours a day, and just not ready to share it with the world. 

Those of you out there that read my previous blog (some day the hubby will figure out where he backed it up and I’ll get those entries in here, or so I keep telling myself), may recall that one reason I started a journey to health so long ago (six years!) was to prove the doctors wrong — that I could get pregnant and be a mom.  It so happened that the kidlet came along, a miracle through the foster system that you couldn’t hope to duplicate, and being unable to get pregnant stopped being the heartache that had plagued me for years.

However, it seems that we are going to have a second miracle child.  When I last posted I was 10 weeks pregnant.  We didn’t know that of course.  For all we knew I was just barely pregnant and things could go south in a heart beat.  It was after my second visit to the doc, when all my tests had been coming in normal that I started getting an inkling that maybe, just maybe the “problem” could be a bun in the oven.  I woke up at some ungodly hour in the morning and was violently ill.  With the surgery being sick after eating was no strange occurrance; I would just assume that I made a mistake, ate something too large, rough or otherwise unsuited to the environment created by the lap band.  But this was 4 in the morning, on an empty stomach, with no good reason to feel sick.  I’d had a few other incidents like that, but when you are eating every few hours, it’s easy to assume it was just the last meal.  I started counting back and realized that it had been longer than I recalled since my last period.  By itself that isn’t so crazy; I’ve never been regular, but more than 8 weeks without a period is unusual, even for me.  Together, it put the idea in my head that I needed a pregnancy test, so I jumped in the car in the dead of night and headed off the 20 minutes to a 24 hour pharmacy.

The next visit to the doctor was to confirm the home test.  When she came in and said positive, it was a shock, despite the + on the EPT stick.  I was bawling and worried, half convinced that a miscarriage was moments away.  The last several years of my life and have been filled with learning about my hormonal imblances and realizing that I never even had a normal puberty and hearing that conceiving would be nearly impossible, and carrying to term even more improbable.

Yet somehow I’m now 19 weeks pregnant.  I’m 38 years old, hormonally unfriendly to a fetus, and 19 weeks pregnant! (well, technically not until tomorrow)  We’ve done all the tests that we can safely do.   Our odds of having a healthy child have been upgraded several times.  My OB says everything is normal.

Miracle Child, take 2


Posted by in Brain Dump, Health & Weight Loss