I’m not dying; I’m pregnant.
It had been sixteen years since I last tested positive for a baby. It wasn’t the result I expected my primary care doctor to return. I’d gone to see him because I thought my colon might be infected.
Yes, my colon.
Mind you, I didn’t pick that to worry about at random. A few weeks earlier I had a colonoscopy to remove pre-cancerous polyps.
Pregnancy never entered my mind. I blamed my late period, monstrous mood, body aches and nausea to PCOS. It was the cramps I couldn’t figure out. I never had those when experiencing PMS.
At times it was dull and achy, at others more sharp and painful. Either way I was sore, miserable and worried.
The doctor was worried too.
“You need to go see Dr. Oswald. Don’t call, just drive straight over there.”
My gynecologist? “Why?”
“You’re pregnant.”
What? The doctor might as well have dropped a boat anchor on my lap. I felt like I was going to topple over and gripped the chair to steady myself. Even then the world kept shifting. It was like one of those State Fair experiences where you walk on an unmoving bridge but the tunnel around you spins and everyone stumbles. For a brief moment, I thought I was going to vomit.
“I’m what?”
“You’re pregnant. It’s likely a tubal pregnancy.”
I couldn’t process the first part, the second I completely ignored.
“I’m sorry, but I feel like I’m in a movie of someone else’s life. I just don’t believe you.”
The doctor smiled. “Well, you are. Don’t worry, it’s not as bad as it seems. You’ll be okay.” He reached out and patted my shoulder.
I still didn’t believe him. “Can you show me the test?”
He looked surprised. “Oh … yes. Of course.” He opened the door, left briefly and returned with a nurse. “I had her do the test twice just to be sure.”
She showed me both. I stood up to view them closer. Each test showed two dark, solid pink lines. Unbelievable. I lost the feeling in my hands, arms and face.
“This just doesn’t feel real.” We’d tried for nearly a decade after Jay was born to conceive again. We’d done the temping, the charting, the hoping and the waiting. We even tried fertility drugs. Nothing worked.
After Craig joined our family through adoption, I fully accepted I’d never biologically have children again. I didn’t need to – we could adopt.
At this point pregnancy wasn’t even an unshared wish. Any thought of a third child was always with the adoption process in mind.
“What do I do now?”
“Go straight to Dr. Oswalds. Drive right over. It’s much better than waiting for a tubal pregnancy to send you to the hospital.”
I grabbed my purse, stopped at the receptionist’s desk, paid my co-pay and headed to the parking lot. It wasn’t until I put the key into the ignition that the full reality of what was happening hit.
I was pregnant … but I wasn’t going to be able to keep the baby.
To be continued …
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Genevieve Hinson is a social media coordinator for Children's Hospital Central California. She's also a writer, wife and mom to two boys and a girl. The opinions she expresses here are her own, as is her obsession for coffee.
We are brand new friends with so much ahead of us. I am excited for you and your family as you go through this pregnancy and adjusting to a new child in your life. You are such a good mommy to Jared & Craig – and an inspiraton to me…
Thanks for being my new friend!
p.s. Ima gonna look for those polka dot pants! LOL
Jeez, I hope this turns out well………
I am hoping that everything turns out okay. Good luck at the OB
OH no! A tubal? HUGS….
I hope you are feeling better…
Dear Genevieve! I was so happy for you and now I am crying. I am sad that your doctor told you with suck briskness “You’re pregnant. It’s likely a tubal pregnancy.” Now I am dying to know whether or not it is a viable pregnancy. Please hurry back, and I hope the physical pain gets better soon. Thinking good thoughts for you. -Goldie
OOps, I meant to say “such” briskness, but suck will do too!
Waiting and wishing and hoping for you.
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