Friday, November 23, 2012

My blobby friends

In under 3 hours I will be going into my OBGYN for another ultrasound and Hcg levels blood draw.   Turns out I'm not pregnant.  "What?!?" you say.  "Hcg levels = pregnancy"  Oh you wonderfully naive person I just made up in my head...  I do love you so.  I am not growing a baby up in that uterus of mine, but a mass of cells.   Lots of masses of cells.  Little tumors.  My blobby friends.  I have a molar pregnancy.

Ok, honestly the doctor hasn't confirmed it as a molar pregnancy, but that's what it is.  I saw the ultrasound.  I saw the blobs.  I had them throw the images out, but here is a googled image that looks the way my uterus does.
All that wonderful cottage cheese cellulite stuff?   Tumors..... Masses.....  Whatever word you chose to use.

To remove my growths, they have to do a D&C (a surgery to scrape out your uterus) and they may continue to grow.  These bastards are incredibly resilient.  My Hcg levels (because my blobby friends put off Hcg just like a nice of them) will have to be monitored for 6 months to a year before I'm allowed to try to conceive again.    Hahaha...  as if. 

When they confirm the molar pregnancy, they are not just saying to me, "Yep, Amy, you are pregnancy with blobs, not baby."   They are also saying "You're done with kids.  No more babies for you.  You are done having children."  Granted, that isn't their choice, but mine.  After 2 losses in 11 months, then this a year later.... I. AM. DONE.

My husband, the wonderful math geek, figured out the chances of us having a 13 week miscarriage AND a miscarriage due to an amniotic band (Riley was stillborn, not really a miscarriage, but that shit is so rare there aren't any statistics on it), AND a molar pregnancy....

1 in 1.8 million.   The chances of those 3 things happening to one little family, 1 in 1.8 million.

I seem to always be the 1.   The low statistic.  That's me.  Here I am.   So the number around this molar pregnancy scare me.  80% of the masses are noncancerous.    10-15% of women with a complete molar pregnancy need chemotherapy to kill off the masses.  (1% in partial molar pregnancy).  Very rarely the moles (aka my blobby friends), can form a choriocarsinoma (cancer) spread beyond your uterus (1 in 40,000).

Can they just.......take out my uterus?   That's sounding a bit easier to me.

Monday, November 19, 2012


The exact same Preschool event two years in a row.  Fall Festival, the Preschool Feast.  All the parents bring snacks and hang out with the kids for an hour.   There are turkey hats, silly songs, and fancy treats galore.  Last year: 38+ weeks pregnant.  This year: 4 (or 5?) weeks pregnant.

Last year I sat talking with a Grandma attending the event of the year.  Talking about birth, how I was eager for Riley to be born any day.  How she went into labor on Thanksgiving with her son and maybe I would too!  Maybe!  Thanksgiving!  Maybe she would be born tomorrow!  

Riley died that night in my belly.  That was the last time I felt her move.

I have to go again in just a few hours and this year, I am pregnant again.  Super early pregnant.  It hasn't been confirmed by a doctor.  I go for my first ultrasound tomorrow. 

I want to puke.  I'm terrified. 

School Teachers, please don't make us say what we are thankful for.   My response to this last Thanksgiving was Riley and Hunter.  I was thankful that they were healthy and happy.  I didn't know she was dead.  I didn't know I was being thankful for something that didn't exist anymore.  I don't think I will ever be able to take part in that tradition again.  I can be thankful every other day of the year, but not on Thanksgiving.

Fall Festival, please be kind to me.