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tubal ligation reversal

Feeling Lucky

For the past 13 weeks and one day I have been “cautiously optimistic”, tempered with a lot of fear. Though I got off easy with the first trimester symptoms (morning sickness, what’s that???) I think those around me would have traded in my crabbiness for my having a few pukes in the toilet.


13 weeks! This is the last week of my first trimester and in one week the “honeymoon of pregnancy “starts. Isn’t that the magical period that brings back my energy, when I will make less bathroom trips (hallelujah!), and most importantly: miscarriage rates drop significantly. WHOOT!!!


I feel so amazed and blessed that I’m actually knocked up and it’s sticking. When I revisit the statistics, the ones that talk about the percentage rates of woman who get pregnant after having a tubal ligation reversal, then combining those rates with the statistics of woman of a certain age (cough40cough), not to mention some other unmentionable fertility factors….. It just makes me feel like I should have had sex AND played the lottery on THAT fateful night.


I still feel fear, but it’s not nearly as strong as it was for the past several weeks. It still feels unreal. Sure, I’m getting “bigger” and starting to show, but instead of feeling pregnant, I just feel fat. Though don’t you dare insinuate that I’m fat, because I’m hormonal and won’t take kindly to it! Only I’m allowed to imply I’m anything other than svelte. I think that’s in the pregnancy rule book, somewhere.


The biggest change since my last blog entry is my newly acquired Doppler. How cool is that?!?!? I won it off an auction on EBAY. Now, despite not being able to feel the baby yet, I sure can hear it! And no, I am not OCD’ing my heartbeat checks! You’ll not find me checking the heartbeat a dozen times a day, most of the time it’s just once a day that I take a quick listen and that’s enough to keep me feeling tranquil.


I think most people at my work know I’m pregnant, if the stares at my stomach are any indication. I suppose at some point I’ll wear some sort of “I’m not fat, I’m pregnant” tee-shirt and squelch any remaining doubts on the curiosities of my expanding waist line.

Seeing Double….

A funny thing happened on the way to IVF….. I wound up pregnant. I know, that was such an incredibly cliché thing to do!

So here I am 8 weeks, 5 days, pregnant. I am still living in disbelief and a bit of terror. One of my first thoughts was, “What. Have. I. Done.” It’s almost like I got so transfixed with the trying aspect of getting pregnant, that I really didn’t see beyond that. I mean I DID… but I didn’t. It was the dream that seemed a bit unattainable. Seriously think about it, I can’t even mend a garden hose and yet a doctor was able to sew up my fallopian tubes, after having had them lie around twiddling their thumbs for over 10 years, and on top of that, to have them…. WORK!?!?! And at my age. With my numbers. Disbelief.
Soooo…. Here I am, pregnant. Wow.

I didn’t NOT write about being pregnant because I was trying to follow some first trimester announcement protocol, no… it is simply because I’ve still not exhaled. I’m still holding my breath, though with this blog I hope to exhale a little bit.

We were literally waiting to start the IVF cycle when I found out I was pregnant. I don’t even know what possessed me to take a pregnancy test, perhaps it has just become such a habit and it built itself into my cycle routine. Whatever the reason, there I was taking a pregnancy test in the middle of the afternoon. I was ready to toss it with disgust at another single line staring back at me, when I realized that I was being greeted by two lines. TWO LINES!!??!! I was shocked. Sonora, who was heading out that weekend for Florida, had JUST said to me, “I bet you end up pregnant and don’t need IVF…” That girl was eerily correct!! That night Scott, Sonora and I go out for a “goodbye” dinner for Sonora and afterwards stop and buy another pregnancy test, this time a digital one. I say that I’m going to take it in the morning, but of course I don’t wait and take it immediately when we get home. The next day there are four tests all lined up in a row…. All saying the same thing: Pregnant.

3.5 weeks and Scott and I are at the doctor’s office. The doctor is shocked that I even took a test. He even asked me why I took a test so soon and I just sort of shrugged and laughed, which was much better than having to admit that I buy them in bulk and take them like they had become my new hobby.

Since 3.5 weeks was too soon to see anything on an ultrasound, the doctor sent me for blood work. My HCG levels came back and yup… pregnant! Feb 22nd they were 323 and on the 25th they jumped to 1453! (They’re supposed to double every couple of days.)

5 weeks in I developed a HUGE cold. Obviously I didn’t take anything for it, just spent the weekend in bed blowing my nose and feeling miserable. 5 and a half weeks in I am feeling better, but decided to stay home from work and get a little bit more rest. I was walking to the kitchen when I realize that something wasn’t right. I was bleeding. I called my doctors office and they told me they could get me in later that afternoon. I just knew that I’d lost the baby. I sat down on my sofa and cried….

Later that day in my doctor’s office, the doctor dimmed the lights and performed an ultrasound. And we got to see that the baby was located in the right spot and after magnifying the image, the doctor said that he could see what looked like heart activity. He said this made him “Cautiously optimistic” and things were probably fine and the baby was ok.

I spotted for a week and a half. Each day that I spotted I was miserable. Scott was patient with me as I had several emotional ups and downs. We didn’t want to lose the baby… though I knew that if we did, it was probably some genetic issue and it “would be for the best.”

7.5 weeks in and we have another doctor’s appointment. This time there is no doubt about seeing a heart beat! The baby is the appropriate size and has a heartbeat. The doctor tells us that after seeing a heartbeat, the risk of miscarriage goes down…. However, because of my age- there is still a higher risk for me. But, again, he’s optimistic.

Today I’m 8 weeks and 5 days. I’m still scared, daily. We’ve already announced it to friends and family, already posted a picture of the ultrasound on Facebook…. And have already received the cautionary warnings that we’re announcing it too soon. But here’s the deal: We’re celebrating the life that is inside me RIGHT NOW. Because as of the last doctors visit, this baby was alive. What if things don’t work out?? Well, then they don’t work out. But we’ll know that we did get to enjoy the little time I had being pregnant with this baby. Not for everybody, but this is how we roll. And that makes me happy. Because it’s too easy to rest in that familiar space of fear, at least for me.

I know my risk for miscarriage is higher than the average under 35 year old. And I don’t think I’m above complications. But when do you say when?? I can list off several examples of women who have sadly experienced miscarriages from 5 week to 8 months. And I find it easy to dwell on these, with pure terror… but, at some point I need to give my neurotic self a break and say, “whatever will be will be…. “ And instead of being on some morbid death watch…. I’m going to try and be optimistic that it IS going to work out. And instead I want to focus my terror on things to come, like childbirth (OUCH!) and terrible two’s (AWK!) and having a teen in my 50’s (AHHHHHHH!!!!).

7.5 Weeks

7.5 Weeks

Crazy about eggs….

“When we remember we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands explained…”  ~Mark Twain

I’m a pretty in touch with my brain…. that is, until I become passionately not. The brainy and oh-so-intellect side of me talks the big talk and fully believes in what it’s saying, so perhaps that’s why me (and everyone else around me) become shocked to find out that despite the hard exterior, I’m really sort of emotionally fragile. Life is always easy during the game planning portion. But once you get out there, on the playing field, things become a bit more challenging…..

Brainy me: We’re going to have another test
Emotionally fragile me: We’re going to have a test and it’s going to tell me I’m o-o-old. *Sniff *
Brainy me: The likelihood of finding infertility issues are high, but we don’t know that’s what they’ll find.
Emotionally fragile me: The tests will say I’m old and HE will leave me for y-y-younger eggs-s-s. *sniff *
Brainy me: Even if I’m infertile, there are ways to have babies.
Emotionally fragile me: I’m never going to have a baby because I’m o-o-old *sniff * *hic *
Brainy me: His staying up the entire night before the big test and playing video games is unrelated to his desire to have kids…
Emotionally: He doesn’t l-l-ove me…. he doesn’t feel my u-u-rgency… doom….. doom…. DOOOOM!

And so on and so on.

Despite the fact that HE has not learned to “talk me down” yet, here we are a few days later and the following things miraculously happened: Our relationship survived another mini-melt down of mine. And after our newest fertility office visit, where we had an ultra sound and the doctor reviewed some recent test results with us, we were told that my getting pregnant is probably related more to my tubes potentially being blocked, then to my age.

I’m feeling sane again. And hopeful. Things are looking rather well for us being part of the IVF research program. But I don’t think that I’ll fully believe it until they’re sticking the needles into my belly.

We will go back to the fertility clinic in a couple of weeks. I’ll have another ultrasound and some blood work done…. if that goes well, we’ll sign a contract and some release forms… and booYA, we’re in and the shots will start in March!

Reverse and Rewind….

When I first met Scott, I was still riding the high off of my overdose on relationship self-help books. I was going through my “put it all on the table” phase. I was determined to show him all my cards and for him to show all of his too. The theory behind this is: if you let it all hang out, sure you might scare off a few, but you’re more likely to find THE someone who will love you for exactly who you are…. thus avoiding the awkwardness of being 2 year into a relationship and finally admitting that you never really liked football and you prefer to cook once every two weeks.

A real convert of the I’ll-show-you-mine-if-you-show-me-yours thinking, I took every opportunity to NOT hide who I was. Where some (sane) 38 year old women might try to hide their age from the hot 28 year old they find themselves lucky enough to be on a date with…. I compulsively dropped my age several times during those first few dates. I just didn’t want him to ever say, “You never told me you were THAT old!” Because I did….over and over again. Also, with no fear I broached the subject of children. I was able to get out of him his expectations for children in his future and I remember telling him that because my tubes were tied and I was 38, it would take medical intervention or adoption for us to ever have kids together.

Yes, I know… nothing like a little playful-flirty, “You have beautiful eyes…. by the way my tubes are tied and my eggs are old, so we might need to see a fertility doctor….gawd, you’ve got a gorgeous smile too….”

Fast forward several months…..

I knew that having kids was very important to Scott. I enjoyed having my daughter and was not against doing it again. Hell, she was almost 18… so I knew I could get a kid to the finish line without screwing them up too bad. And that was on my first go at parenthood, imagine what I could do on my second try!

I decided to talk to my doctor about whether or not having kids was even an option for me. Blood tests were ordered, needles inserted, blood work sent off…. and then finally the results were in. My numbers were pretty damn impressive for a woman of 38. In fact, if my stats could go to bars, they might just get carded!

Fast forward several more months…..

He’s THE ONE. I’m THE ONE. We’re blissful. But time is not on my baby-making side. So instead of a few years of uninterrupted-by-poopie-diaper happiness…. we decide to jump into the baby making.

Fast forward a several weeks……

I researched my insurance options for getting my tubes reversed (none), I researched doctors who perform the surgery (several), and narrowed down my choices (few).

Fast forward several more weeks….

If you want to feel old at 39, sit in a fertility clinic, next to your younger paramour and listen to how old your woman bits are.

Fast forward a few more weeks….

I get wheeled in, I get wheeled out….. they could rebuild me, they had the technology!

Fast forward to present……

If something interests me, REALLY interests me, then I’m all over it. I will research that puppy to its death. Some might call this “obsessing”, but I prefer to call it “getting educated”. Fertility and pregnancy have become my new area of interest. True, I already have been pregnant before, so you’d think it’s like riding a bike…. but this is not the case since there was no planning with her. She was my serendipity baby and a happy surprise.

This time it’s going to be different….. this time it’s going to take some work!

To be continued…..