Apples vs. Oranges Part III

I was on anti-depressants when I got pregnant with my third child and despite their "C" status, I stayed on them through my entire pregnancy and another two years after.  It was tough going.  As my waistline expanded again for the third time in three years, strangers were shockingly bold.

"Do you not know how to stop this?"

"Do you understand how you get pregnant?"

I even had a woman in Zion's National Park talk very loudly (looking over her shoulder) about how population growth was ruining the world and people who had too many children were irresponsible.  Of course, I was in my third trimester holding a 19-month-old and a three-year-old on my lap, exhausted and sweaty.  Now, not only was I the height of stupidity, but also ruining the planet.  It was a heavy burden to carry.

We moved during that pregnancy and I remembered the women at church did a little spotlight on me.  I had told the woman who called that, though my daughter was 2.5 at the time, she was almost 3 and she should say that she was almost three.  She didn't.  The spotlight said that I had a 2 and a half-year-old, a 17-month-old and was expecting another baby in July.

As they read the spotlight in church, the ladies behind me whispered, "How is that even possible?"

I felt foolish everywhere I went.

****

There were at least a dozen miracles that surrounded my third child's pregnancy.  They were what I clung to, trying to remember that God was there.  That He hadn't abandon me. Those are the only stories I usually share.  And I got a happy ending, too.  Nathan James was born on July 16, 2002 weighing a whopping 9 lbs 10 oz despite the fact that he was 15 days early.

The medicine that was prescribed to push the cancer meds out worked.  Nathan had no ill effects of the medicine.  He is one of my three with Macular Degeneration, but because I wasn't on cancer meds with the girls, no doctor finds any correlation.

But I wanted to address myths about surprise pregnancy.
1. That they are no big deal.
2. That there is no mourning.
3. That the mother had a choice.
4. That the problem is temporary.

For me, this "surprise" rocked me to my very core.  And whether I should or not, I mourned.  Even as I held my new baby boy, I would tell him how very sorry I was.  Sorry that I hadn't been more excited.  Sorry that I wasn't a better mother.  Sorry that I had wanted a girl.  Sorry.

A woman I was very close to, got pregnant around the same time I did.  She miscarried and I watched as that rocked her to the core.  And despite everything, against all odds, I remained pregnant and carried a healthy baby full-term.  It didn't make any sense to me at all.

The struggle didn't end when he was born.  I had so many dark days over the next few years. My heart would break over the things I had wanted to do, but couldn't.  And all 11-years-old of him proves the permanence that a surprise pregnancy brings.

As a pro-life, God-fearing woman, I only had one choice:  to continue my pregnancy.  I'm not really sure what that means when these women would say, "They have a CHOICE."  What choice did I have?  Once you're pregnant, what choice do you have?

True, not all surprise pregnancies are this traumatic.  My 5th was a surprise too, but a surprise I was infinitely more equipped to handle.

In any event, who are we to judge?

Perhaps someone can read my story and still say it's nothing.  But it wasn't "nothing" to me.  And in the same way that we work to be sensitive to those struggling with infertility, we should be sensitive to those who are too fertile, too.  Let's not look at anyone's trial and just assume that it's no big deal.

"Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle." --Ian Maclaren

Apples vs. Oranges Part II

Medication is given a ranking in reference to how dangerous it is to be taken during pregnancy.  Tylenol and prenatal vitamins get an "A."  To my knowledge, they are the only meds that do.    Most other drugs get a B, C, or D.  Most of anti-inflammatories I've taken for my arthritis are in the C - D range.  Basically, I could continue taking my anti-inflammatory until I knew I was pregnant.  Then I had to stop immediately.  Only a handful of the most dangerous drugs get a Category X.  The meds in this category have known, terrible side effects for the unborn baby including death and major deformation.  You must not get pregnant on these meds.

When my doctor gave me the loading dose, he told me that I had to not get pregnant for at least two years.  I should let him know when we wanted to start trying.  They would have to test my blood for the level of medication still in my system.  They would then prescribe me meds to push this cancer med out of my body.  My blood would be tested again.  Then I would get the OK to get pregnant.

I knew the drill. I was religious with my pills.  Not only did I never miss, I took them precisely 24 hours apart.  I had had a bladder infection a few weeks earlier.  I knew the antibiotic I was given could make my pills quit working.  We had used condoms as a back-up.  I wasn't willing to risk it.

*****

I stood in line at the pharmacy to pick up my medicine.   Two people in front of me was my visiting teacher and dear friend, Talei.  Her youngest child was three and she and her husband wanted more kids.  They struggled with infertility.  She was there to pick up her fertility meds, hoping it would help her get pregnant.  Here I was pregnant against my will and hoping to save my baby. My two children were both younger than my friend's youngest.  The irony of the whole situation made me shake my head.

When Talei turned around she spotted me and said hi.  I told her what had happened.  "I'm so sorry," I whispered to her.

"Don't worry," she reassured me, "I'll get my baby."

Every night my husband and I knelt by our bed and said prayers.  I always began thanking God for blessings.  This day, I almost couldn't choke out the words.

"I thank Thee, " I began.

I couldn't think of one thing I was thankful for.  Things had been so hard this year.  Wendell was on his 4th full-time job.  After 4 months of marriage therapy, our student therapist ended our therapy,  thinking we could manage things.  Money was tight.  Wendell's schedule as a car salesman was terrible and we believed this was yet another in-between job while we waited for the real deal.  We didn't even qualify for insurance yet.  I felt, in that moment, completely abandoned by God.

"...for helping us get through this day." It was all I had.  I sobbed into my bed.

I mourned the loss of my body.  I mourned my loss of control.  I mourned for all that might happen to my baby. I even mourned bringing another child into a marriage in turmoil.

In the days that followed, I sobbed into my bed many times as I talked with God.

"Why me?" I asked.  "I can go up and down my street and tell you all the women who want this baby right now.  Why would you send me a baby?  We don't have a good job. I have two small children.  I don't know if I can stay in this marriage. Please, let me miscarry and send this child to someone else. If this baby has to die, let it be now.  You see, if it dies later, I'll have to have another c-section.  A c-section, Father, to get out a dead baby. Why? Why did you send me this child?"

Most of the day, I felt awash in guilt.  Shouldn't I be grateful, happy, excited?

Apples vs. Oranges Part I

I have three children with a rare eye condition called Juvenile Macular Degeneration.  We have no prognosis, no timeline.  This condition, left unchecked leads to blindness.  We know this all too well since our oldest daughter, Emma, is blind in her right eye from the condition.  Because we live in this no-man's-land of not knowing, we take our vacations in National Parks, hoping to seal into the memory of every child the vistas, the beauty, the seeing in the event that at some point they cannot see.

A dear friend of mine, Katie, has two children with Juvenile Diabetes.  Their lives are at risk.  Every meal, every hour, every snack they must be monitored.  The "possible" that hangs over their heads is death.  She carries a giant diaper bag full of snacks, insulin, and a device for monitoring their blood.

Another dear friend, Emily,  has three children who are dying.  Three of her five children have a rare, terminal disease called MLD.  It has been a journey learning what is wrong, watching as her two oldest daughters lose mental function and grow weaker.  They think they have two years left with these girls.  Despite everything they've done to fight the disease, the fight is over, the disease won.  They are now just enjoying what time they have.

There is no question between the three of us that Emily's burden is the hardest.  None.  Still she has never minimized my struggle or my darkest hour by telling me how my problems pale in comparison to hers.  She would be right, of course, but she is too kind to say it.

In fact, I feel quite bonded to Katie and Emily even though, of the three of us, my problem is the easiest to handle.  You see, we share that moment where you learned that you don't just have one child with a rare disease, but more of your children carry the same genetics--your genetics gone wrong.

*****

It was a few days ago that a blogger I follow linked to an article on FB and said, "Let's discuss this article."  Intrigued, I clicked on the link.  It's title was, The Flip Side of Infertility.  Which to me meant, "The trouble with being able to have kids too easily."  Since that was something I TOTALLY relate with and it had been linked by an adoption advocate, I read on.

I loved the article.  I loved the author's honesty.  I admired her willingness to talk openly about the difficulty of finding you're pregnant when you didn't expect it and the struggles that that brings.  I loved her openness about struggling when to call it quits on having kids.  Largely to avoid injuring those that struggling with infertility, these topics are somewhat verboten, leaving those of us with that challenge struggling alone.

So I clicked over to the "Let's discuss" post to share. What I found there surprised me.  Many women who struggle with infertility were virtually (as in on-line) screaming that this article had both offended and wronged them.  Although there were a few who seemed to understand the author's point--the grass isn't always greener--many were cruel.

They talked about the problems of fertility being temporary and that fertile women have choice. But what I was most surprised about was that many were in the mode of saying, "Sure that's a problem, but it's nothing compared to mine."

Just like my friends Emily and Katie--they're right.  My fertility "problem" is nothing in comparison to infertility.  But I still felt attacked.  It was like someone had looked at one of my darkest hours and said, "That's nothing."

*****
I don't even remember who was babysitting my two small children when I drove from our home in Spanish Fork to Provo to get a new pack of birth control pills.  Post two children, the pills I'd taken years earlier didn't work as well.  I was having "breakthrough bleeding" which meant that I was having two periods every 28 days.

They'd given me a trial pack of another kind which had worked--no breakthrough--and now I just needed to get the prescription for it.  The nurse searched for my chart unsuccessfully.  Ultimately she gave me a cup.  Like last month, I would have to take a pregnancy test and get a sample pack of pills.  No sample could be given without my chart or the pregnancy test.  I was miffed at this ridiculous waste of time.  I wanted to get back to my kids.

As luck would have it, it was free pregnancy test day at the OBGYN.  This was good because I wouldn't have to pay for the test, but there was also a line up of hopeful women nervously awaiting their news. It seemed wrong for me to be there since I didn't want to be pregnant.  I handed my cup of urine to a nurse who dipped a thin strip of paper in it.

"Are you expecting to be pregnant?" she nurse asked me.

"Noooooo.  I'm just here to get a new pack of birth control pills and they couldn't find my chart." I slouched in my seat and kicked my foot casually.

I had a daughter, almost 2.5 and a little boy who'd just turned one.  I was ready for a break.  We were trying to find the right arthritis medicine which had been hard.

This test was taking forever.

I leaned forward to the nurse. "Look," I said, "my pregnancy tests turn really fast.  If it doesn't say, I'm pregnant yet, then I'm not.  Can I just get my pills and go home?"

She took a quick breath and squared her shoulders like she was readying for impact. She turned and blurted out, "You're pregnant."

My heart stopped. I blinked. "How can that be?"

She shrugged her shoulders.

I got angry.  "That can't be!  I haven't missed a pill.  I take them 24 hours apart. I want a new test.  I want a blood test.  I haven't even missed my period--I'm not due for two more days!"

She tried to calm me, to reason with me. The blood test is only good if the urine test is negative.

"Your test turned really fast," she admitted.  The time that had elapsed she was just trying to think of how to tell me.

"I can't be pregnant," I insisted. "I've been on a cancer medicine for my arthritis.  It's a category X.  It stays in my system for two years.  I can't get pregnant on it. I want the blood test!"

I can't remember where I went for the blood test, just that they asked for a rush on the results.  I called my husband first.  I was near hysteria. This cancer med was really, really bad.  I couldn't even remember everything that could go wrong with my baby.  Wendell kept asking, "Are you sure you're pregnant?"

"I got a blood test, but the nurse said she'd never seen a blood test be negative when the urine test was positive." I hung up the phone and cried quietly in the car.

To fill the time, I drove aimlessly around Provo and Orem trying to figure out where to go what to do.  They called me with the blood test results.  Positive.  Somehow--miraculously--despite my best efforts, I was pregnant.  I called my Rheumatologist's office for the second time.  I told them the blood test was positive.

Nancy, the RN, told me she was going to call in a medicine.  It is supposed to push the cancer med out of my body.  Usually it was given over a two month period.  For me, I'd take 66 doses in 11 days. And pray.

I called the pharmacist.  And told him about the cancer med.  "I know it's a category X.  I want to know every possible thing that can go wrong with this pregnancy."

He looked it up.  He paused. "It's really bad," he told me.

"I know," I responded.  "I need to know how bad."

His voice was soft, "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

He began, "Fetal death at any time in the pregnancy, spina bifida..."