It had a heartrate.
154.
A tiny little blip on the screen, but a blip with a heartbeat. This wasn't just a cluster of cells. This was my baby.
We waited in awkward silence for the images to be put on to a cd, an idea that B thought was ridiculous. There was nothing to see, nothing to get attached to. and he had to get to work.
We stopped at Wendy's for lunch, I dropped him off at work and I went home to research what a baby looks like at 6 weeks. What has developed. Eager to learn everything. B researched for people who were okay with abortions, who had them and didn't have any negative consequences.
Every night we had the same arguements.
Every night, I went to bed crying.
Hand protectively on my belly.
Saturday, October 20, 2012
July 9, 2012
12 days.
That's how long I had to wait. The longest 12 days of my life. It felt like the first 24 days of December. But without a chocolate to console you each morning, until finally you eat the big one which means Christmas is the next day.
For those 12 days, every option crossed my mind. Could I do this on my own? Could I actually go through with an abortion? Could I carry this baby for 9 months and then give it to someone else? For 12 days I had to awkwardly avoid all of the alcoholic luxuries that come with an all inclusive resort, beers on the patio as summer hit Calgary, sleeping on my stomach, and watched as my body turned on my previous love for all things vegetable. I fell in the ocean early into our trip, carrying C's son. I slipped on a rock and we got pulled under by a wave. In my desperate attempt to keep him above the water, I took quite a beating to the left side of my body, predominantly to my abdomen. For 6 days, I worried constantly that I'd hurt the baby. I worried like a mother.
Finally the day of the ultra sound came.
I got up early, measured out my 8 glasses of water. Then endured the drive down south with a full bladder, and finally checked in. While we waited, B told me not to look at the screen. That it was just a bunch of cells, no heartbeat, nothing to get attached to.
They called me in separately.
The tech poked and prodded for a while, which is incredibly uncomfortable when you have a full bladder. Before telling me that the full bladder wasn't helping things, to go and empty my bladder and we were going to do the exam internally. Relief at last!
I came back, and was told to insert an instrument that was about the size and shape of a tampon, "where you'd put a tampon" and we continued with the exam.
Upon completion, she told me to get dressed while she went and got B.
That's how long I had to wait. The longest 12 days of my life. It felt like the first 24 days of December. But without a chocolate to console you each morning, until finally you eat the big one which means Christmas is the next day.
For those 12 days, every option crossed my mind. Could I do this on my own? Could I actually go through with an abortion? Could I carry this baby for 9 months and then give it to someone else? For 12 days I had to awkwardly avoid all of the alcoholic luxuries that come with an all inclusive resort, beers on the patio as summer hit Calgary, sleeping on my stomach, and watched as my body turned on my previous love for all things vegetable. I fell in the ocean early into our trip, carrying C's son. I slipped on a rock and we got pulled under by a wave. In my desperate attempt to keep him above the water, I took quite a beating to the left side of my body, predominantly to my abdomen. For 6 days, I worried constantly that I'd hurt the baby. I worried like a mother.
Finally the day of the ultra sound came.
I got up early, measured out my 8 glasses of water. Then endured the drive down south with a full bladder, and finally checked in. While we waited, B told me not to look at the screen. That it was just a bunch of cells, no heartbeat, nothing to get attached to.
They called me in separately.
The tech poked and prodded for a while, which is incredibly uncomfortable when you have a full bladder. Before telling me that the full bladder wasn't helping things, to go and empty my bladder and we were going to do the exam internally. Relief at last!
I came back, and was told to insert an instrument that was about the size and shape of a tampon, "where you'd put a tampon" and we continued with the exam.
Upon completion, she told me to get dressed while she went and got B.
I bet you wish your tampon could do this!
Really good at peeing on sticks.
That was not a topic that I wanted to discuss.
Sure, I understood B's concerns. I had them too. We'd only been together for a couple of months. I'd just moved out on my own, pushing back my debt repayment plans. He had plenty of his own. We obviously hadn't gone about this the conventional way. What would people think. Could we commit to the next 18 years together?
At the same time. This is a baby we were talking about. Whether he saw it that way or not.
First things first, we needed to make sure. I called and was able to get a doctors appointment for a couple of hours later. So we put the topic aside and went for breakfast. Where we talked about everything we could, other than the situation. and I held in every ounce of liquid, expecting I would probably have to pee on another stick. Which, I am really good at doing now. Peeing into small orifices that is.
We got to the clinic, sure enough I was handed a plastic container and told to go do my thing. Then we sat patiently waiting for my doctor, for what seemed like eternity. Eventually, in he walked. With a stick, some paper towel and some litmus papers I hadn't seen since high school chemistry class. My immediate question was, "did you get the same results I did?" "were your results positive?" "yes.". We spent a couple of minutes talking about options, possible times of conception, next steps. and of course B had his questions about abortion.
I was given a referral for a dating ultrasound, told to have a good time in Punta Cana, and to come back in a couple of weeks. As soon as we got in the car, I tried to book the dating ultrasound, hoping that maybe we could get in before I left. Silly me, again this was 3 days before I left. Unfortunately, I was told that nothing will show up until it has been at least 6 weeks since your missed period. So I took an appointment for the Monday after I would get back from Punta Cana.
Desperate for answers, we drove all the way back downtown to get a digital clear blue test, from a Shoppers Drug Mart where no one would see us.
We got back to his apartment, and for the third time that day...
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Sure, I understood B's concerns. I had them too. We'd only been together for a couple of months. I'd just moved out on my own, pushing back my debt repayment plans. He had plenty of his own. We obviously hadn't gone about this the conventional way. What would people think. Could we commit to the next 18 years together?
At the same time. This is a baby we were talking about. Whether he saw it that way or not.
First things first, we needed to make sure. I called and was able to get a doctors appointment for a couple of hours later. So we put the topic aside and went for breakfast. Where we talked about everything we could, other than the situation. and I held in every ounce of liquid, expecting I would probably have to pee on another stick. Which, I am really good at doing now. Peeing into small orifices that is.
We got to the clinic, sure enough I was handed a plastic container and told to go do my thing. Then we sat patiently waiting for my doctor, for what seemed like eternity. Eventually, in he walked. With a stick, some paper towel and some litmus papers I hadn't seen since high school chemistry class. My immediate question was, "did you get the same results I did?" "were your results positive?" "yes.". We spent a couple of minutes talking about options, possible times of conception, next steps. and of course B had his questions about abortion.
I was given a referral for a dating ultrasound, told to have a good time in Punta Cana, and to come back in a couple of weeks. As soon as we got in the car, I tried to book the dating ultrasound, hoping that maybe we could get in before I left. Silly me, again this was 3 days before I left. Unfortunately, I was told that nothing will show up until it has been at least 6 weeks since your missed period. So I took an appointment for the Monday after I would get back from Punta Cana.
Desperate for answers, we drove all the way back downtown to get a digital clear blue test, from a Shoppers Drug Mart where no one would see us.
We got back to his apartment, and for the third time that day...
.jpg)
I peed on a stick.
Just a little shocked
Oh shit.
That was not what I expected to see.
Immediately a wave of panic rushed over me. A million questions running through my mind. When did this happen, how did this happen? Okay that wasn't so much a question. I mean, I obviously sat on the toilet seat after he'd been in there, because I definitely hadn't slept in the wet spot. Or maybe there was more to it.
I called in to work - there was no way I was going to have the sanity to be there today. I tried to call C, several times. Cell, home, husband to be (yes, this was 3 days before we were to leave for their destination wedding), no luck. Then I called B.
Imagine a groggy man, who has probably just fallen back asleep after his girlfriend so rudely woke him up at 6am on his day off. It took several rings for him to answer. "I need you to come over" "why" "I just do" "why?" "just come over" "but I'm sleeping" "fine, I'm coming back over" "okay..." so I did. I tossed the pee stick in my purse, said good bye to my extra $100 of over time pay, threw some styling product in my wet hair, managed to find some clean (I think) clothes and cried the entire way back over to his apartment. Where a young kid, leaving for school, happily let me into the building. A kid. Damnit.
The four flights in the elevator seemed like the longest ride of my life, the entire time I stood there petrified, trying to figure out what I was going to say to B. I'm sure I was quite the site. Luckily no one else got on.
I opened the door the apartment, explained how I got into the building, and was immediately asked "so, why aren't you going to work?". If you're looking for a humerous part in the story, this is probably my favourite part. I put my purse down on the night stand, and started rummaging through it. B, getting increasingly confused kept repeating himself. Finally I found it. I turned on the bedroom light, and threw, yes that's right, threw the pee stick at him. I'm somewhat convinced that it was dry. I can't promise anything though. If you've never done the same, let me enlighten you to the reaction.
*insert look of horror* "Are you serious?" "yes" "how" *see above response* "come here". So I did. Where I continued to cry some more. In between sobs, trying to confirm that I don't know how. I mean, I was on the pill. That's supposed to be like 99.7% safe right? Welcome to the 0.03. I've never won anything in my life, maybe a donut or a free small coffee during roll up the rim or Monopoly at McD's... and here I am. The 0.03% lucky enough to get pregnant on the pill. Perfect. Next time I'll take the lottery. Which, given the odd's... we also tried. We thought it would be a humerous way to tell people. Needless to say, they got an announcement alright, but a couple thousand dollars to soften the blow was not enclosed. More on that later.
"Well, we'll have to end it". It. A term that had never crossed my mind. From the minute those lines appeared, in my eyes I was having a baby. Not an embryo, or a fetus, not a sack of cells, or a parasite. A baby.
This was not the reaction I was looking for.
That was not what I expected to see.
Immediately a wave of panic rushed over me. A million questions running through my mind. When did this happen, how did this happen? Okay that wasn't so much a question. I mean, I obviously sat on the toilet seat after he'd been in there, because I definitely hadn't slept in the wet spot. Or maybe there was more to it.
I called in to work - there was no way I was going to have the sanity to be there today. I tried to call C, several times. Cell, home, husband to be (yes, this was 3 days before we were to leave for their destination wedding), no luck. Then I called B.
Imagine a groggy man, who has probably just fallen back asleep after his girlfriend so rudely woke him up at 6am on his day off. It took several rings for him to answer. "I need you to come over" "why" "I just do" "why?" "just come over" "but I'm sleeping" "fine, I'm coming back over" "okay..." so I did. I tossed the pee stick in my purse, said good bye to my extra $100 of over time pay, threw some styling product in my wet hair, managed to find some clean (I think) clothes and cried the entire way back over to his apartment. Where a young kid, leaving for school, happily let me into the building. A kid. Damnit.
The four flights in the elevator seemed like the longest ride of my life, the entire time I stood there petrified, trying to figure out what I was going to say to B. I'm sure I was quite the site. Luckily no one else got on.
I opened the door the apartment, explained how I got into the building, and was immediately asked "so, why aren't you going to work?". If you're looking for a humerous part in the story, this is probably my favourite part. I put my purse down on the night stand, and started rummaging through it. B, getting increasingly confused kept repeating himself. Finally I found it. I turned on the bedroom light, and threw, yes that's right, threw the pee stick at him. I'm somewhat convinced that it was dry. I can't promise anything though. If you've never done the same, let me enlighten you to the reaction.
*insert look of horror* "Are you serious?" "yes" "how" *see above response* "come here". So I did. Where I continued to cry some more. In between sobs, trying to confirm that I don't know how. I mean, I was on the pill. That's supposed to be like 99.7% safe right? Welcome to the 0.03. I've never won anything in my life, maybe a donut or a free small coffee during roll up the rim or Monopoly at McD's... and here I am. The 0.03% lucky enough to get pregnant on the pill. Perfect. Next time I'll take the lottery. Which, given the odd's... we also tried. We thought it would be a humerous way to tell people. Needless to say, they got an announcement alright, but a couple thousand dollars to soften the blow was not enclosed. More on that later.
"Well, we'll have to end it". It. A term that had never crossed my mind. From the minute those lines appeared, in my eyes I was having a baby. Not an embryo, or a fetus, not a sack of cells, or a parasite. A baby.
This was not the reaction I was looking for.
June 27, 2012
June 27, 2012 the day my life changed forever.
It started out as a normal day. I woke up at my boyfriends, earlier than usual to put in some extra over time at work. Something I'd been pulling a lot of, having just moved out on my own and getting quite tired of living pay cheque to pay cheque. I gathered up my clothing and toiletries, grabbed my cell phone, kissed my half asleep man back to sleep, and headed off to my tiny one bedroom apartment to get ready.
While showering, something just didn't feel right. I was incredibly nauseous, and I felt quite light headed. Taking a couple of minutes to think, I realized that I had been feeling this way for a couple of days. The previous weekend, had been my best friend's bridal shower and I remember struggling in the car both ways to and from Banff and not really having my normal energy to keep up at the bar. At the time, I blamed it on putting in so much over time (I had been averaging 10 hours a week!), and a lack of sleep.
However, that morning as I got out of the shower something drew me to drag out a spare pregnancy test in the back of the bathroom cupboard from a two pack purchased several months prior. I ripped open the silver foil packet, held it downstream, apprehensively put the cap back on and set it on the counter. Convinced that within minutes I would see the reassuring negative symbol that had greeted me so many times before.
Not this time.
Within seconds, there they were.
It started out as a normal day. I woke up at my boyfriends, earlier than usual to put in some extra over time at work. Something I'd been pulling a lot of, having just moved out on my own and getting quite tired of living pay cheque to pay cheque. I gathered up my clothing and toiletries, grabbed my cell phone, kissed my half asleep man back to sleep, and headed off to my tiny one bedroom apartment to get ready.
While showering, something just didn't feel right. I was incredibly nauseous, and I felt quite light headed. Taking a couple of minutes to think, I realized that I had been feeling this way for a couple of days. The previous weekend, had been my best friend's bridal shower and I remember struggling in the car both ways to and from Banff and not really having my normal energy to keep up at the bar. At the time, I blamed it on putting in so much over time (I had been averaging 10 hours a week!), and a lack of sleep.
However, that morning as I got out of the shower something drew me to drag out a spare pregnancy test in the back of the bathroom cupboard from a two pack purchased several months prior. I ripped open the silver foil packet, held it downstream, apprehensively put the cap back on and set it on the counter. Convinced that within minutes I would see the reassuring negative symbol that had greeted me so many times before.
Not this time.
Within seconds, there they were.
Two pink lines.
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