The story

I can't thank you enough for all of your comments on my last post! You are all so sweet. And now to catch you up on the last ten (really, eight) weeks...

As I mentioned yesterday, we were shocked to find out I was pregnant in March. Not just because it had been five-and-a-half years (although that was a BIG part of it!), but because we weren't even thinking about it at the time.

So, around peak +12, the day before Palm Sunday, when I started falling asleep in the middle of the afternoon while feeding Clara, I thought it was just new-mother exhaustion, despite the fact that I hadn't fallen asleep while feeding her to date (miraculous in itself, I know). It wasn't until I had a rather unusual symptom - not one typically associated with pregnancy - that I started to wonder.

On peak +13, I discovered a swollen gland on my neck, by my jaw. I had felt it before, but not since enduring several bouts of mono in the 90's. Why that made me think I was pregnant, I will never know. But it did. I thought perhaps my body was going haywire.

I asked everyone I knew what they thought of it, careful to not mention pregnancy. Ryan suggested I was coming down with something, my mother-in-law thought allergies, and my mother (a nurse, who I thought would mention pregnancy if there was any possible connection whatsoever) had no explanation. I wanted so badly for someone to ask where I was in my cycle, but no one did. And why would they? It was a swollen gland.

I tried to put it out of my mind, and it wasn't hard. There was no chance I was, actually, pregnant. By Tuesday of Holy Week, though, I was noticing that something was mysteriously absent - spotting. Not that I usually spot post-peak these days, but I at least spot on what ends up being cycle day one. And the lack of it meant that peak +15 was about to turn into peak +16.

Wondering how many times I had made it that far, just for research's sake, I checked my past charts. Only one time in the three years I had been charting had I made it to peak +15, and that was a cycle where I had a "false-positive." Never had I made it to 16. I decided to tell Ryan that I'd be testing in the morning.

He was shocked, to say the least. It was probably about the last thing he expected to hear me say that Tuesday night. I had him get my box of tests down from the attic and I picked one (NOT a digital "pregnant/not pregnant" test, of course) for use the next morning.

I woke up at the crack of dawn and decided to get it over with. I told Ryan my only fear was if it was negative, what was wrong with me? Did I have a cyst that was delaying menstruation? What else could it be? I think I knew what it was.

I tried to pee, which is usually an easy task first thing in the morning, and due to my heart beating out of my chest, nothing came out. Finally, I managed two drops - instead of the requisite five-second stream - and yelled to Ryan not to get too excited because this test was going to be a dud. But as soon as the moisture passed over the plus-minus window, a plus sign immediately appeared (apparently when you really are pregnant, you don't need to squint and look at the window in every possible lighting).

A moment I had imagined for years and years was here and I froze. I didn't cry, scream, pray, fall over, nothing. Instead, in a very shaky voice, I mumbled to Ryan, who was still in bed, that it was positive.

I don't remember many details after that, but I did test again using the digital test (again, when you really are pregnant, that little hour glass is only up there for a second). I called Dr. S's office as soon as it opened and had my blood tested later that morning.

That day I excitedly and nervously told my immediate family and close friends the news, always saying "I got a positive test," rather than "I'm pregnant." But when we got the hcg results the following day, I forced myself to start saying the "p" word. I just could not believe it.

My hcg, by the way, was great - 950-something. It was so high that they didn't need it tested the next day. My progesterone results weren't back yet though and, in the meantime, Dr. S wanted me to start prometrium, based on the fact that my progesterone had tested low in blood work the previous cycle.

My head was in the clouds Easter weekend, as was Ryan's. We left for vacation with my family on Good Friday and had a great time. We were still in complete shock and probably said "I can't believe you're/I'm pregnant!" about a thousand times.

It turned out I didn't get my progesterone results until the following Monday due to problems at the lab. And when I did finally get the results, they were low - 9.3. I freaked. Word to the wise - if you ever are told you have low progesterone in early pregnancy, don't google it. Mainstream medicine doesn't necessarily think it's treatable. Thank God for NaPro.

I immediately started injections (thanks, Erin!), and had them overnighted to the hotel where we were staying on vacation. Thankfully my mother was there to do the first round and she was able to teach Ryan. I know a lot of you do shots on a regular basis, but I never had, and they're not easy! Tons of steps, you have to be very careful, it takes forever. I didn't adequately appreciate all you have gone through before!

After finding out about my low progesterone, I was brought back down to reality. My joyous mood turned to anxiety. I wanted to go back to how I was before hearing the results, but I was scared out of my mind to lose the life in my womb.

That nervousness extended through to the following week when I had an ultrasound scheduled at Dr. S's office in PA. I was originally supposed to have my infertility follow-up appointment that day so I just kept the appointment, and I was heading right past there on my way to NY that same day, so it worked out. Another word to the wise - don't drive four hours to an ultrasound with morning sickness and fear. I cried most of the way.

Of course, we got amazing news at the ultrasound - the baby was great, had a perfect heart beat and was measuring two days ahead of what we thought. Relief. Then, things got even better when I found out a few days later that my progesterone had risen to 24. Thank God! I was back to being overjoyed.

Then, two weeks later, I found out my progesterone had dropped a bit, to 18.9. Again, I freaked a little but the nurses assured me it wasn't a big deal. I knew I'd soon have another ultrasound (now with my new, local OB) and hoped that would alleviate my nervousness. And it did. He/she is alive and kicking and swimming! Praise the Lord.

I'll get my progesterone tested again this Friday, and I'd appreciate any prayers you could offer. I don't mind the injections at all and would do whatever it takes for this baby, but it'd just be great to know it's at a normal level.

I've had a lot of morning sickness, although just nausea, no vomiting. Clara and I usually spend the morning in bed and then get up in the afternoon when it tends to go away. I have some heartburn, although not every day, and constant exhaustion. I'm also constantly hungry and have aversions to most foods, while craving only things that are bad for me. I've totally thrown my diet out the window with plans to return to it in the second trimester. I figure emergency rules apply right now. When the painful, gnawing hunger kicks in, all bets are off.

The truth is, I LOVE the symptoms. Love them. I know it's more than possible to have no symptoms and be fine, but having them is a great reminder that I am pregnant. And after all I've gone through the past five years, I couldn't imagine not welcoming every second of it.

That being said, I do my share of complaining because, after all, pain is pain. But this pain is glorious pain, and nothing compared to the pain of heartbreak.

When I am in the throes of it, I often remember to offer it up for all of you who are still waiting. For your healing, for God to grow your families according to his plan.

I have no idea how this happened. I really don't. There could be a number of medical reasons I suppose - I had surgery eight months prior, in August to remove an endometrioma that wasn't even showing up on ultrasound two months earlier; I had been on hydrocortisone for approximately nine months and was feeling great from it; and my thyroid meds had been changed the previous summer as well - but nothing obvious. Heck, in February during my ultrasound series, the doctor had a terrible time finding my left ovary - the same one I ended up conceiving with! God is full of surprises and I think my story shows that no matter how much we worry whether we are doing all the right things, it all comes down to God's plan for us. God is bigger than it all.

Well Clara is starting to cry (more like yell for me) in the other room so I must go. I have so much to post concerning her - how this pregnancy has solidified that she was meant to be part of our family (as if there was ever any doubt), my guilt over trying to care for her while not feeling well, and how I think God may have healed me through her (I have never been happier and I believe that had something to do with this). Not to mention I'll surely be posting about the "myth" of pregnancy after adoption, and our embarrassment of riches.

So now I will go kiss my baby, who brings me more joy and happiness than I knew was possible, and thank God that we will soon have two just one year apart (my due date is two days after her first birthday). Double stroller, here we come!