The Undiscovered Country

Heartbeats

Yesterday I went to my monthly checkup. I was both eager and anxious for this one, because they were going to look for the baby’s heartbeat.

The nurse came in and had me lay on the table, and pull my pants down some (I was smart enough to wear elastic-waisted pants). She squirted cold slimy goo on my lower abdomen and moved the listening device around my lower abdomen. I heard my heartbeat, static, and perhaps even some gut gurgles.

No fetal heartbeat.

After a few minutes she put the doppler listening device away and said, “I’ll see if we can sneak you into Ultrasound and find the heartbeat that way.”

“For what reasons can’t you find the heartbeat?” I asked.

“It could be a lot of reasons. The baby could be very active. And since the uterus is still small, the baby could be hiding behind your pelvic bone.” After a pause she added, “And of course there are other, more serious reasons we can’t find it. But the ultrasound will determine that.”

She wiped away all the goo from my tummy and said, “I’ll check on ultrasound and be back in a few minutes.”

I sat next to Dave and said, “You know, I’m not surprised they didn’t find it.”

“How come?”

“I don’t know. I just had a feeling they wouldn’t find it. I felt that way ever since my last appointment when they said they were going to do this. I’m not worried something’s wrong, though.”

Sure, I had a twinge of fear at first; it’s a normal reaction to consider the worst possibilities. But the little voice inside me assured me I need not fret.

A few minutes later the nurse came back in and took me to Ultrasound. The technician was efficient - too much so. I had a slew of questions, but didn’t have the time to ask them.

After spreading more goo on me, she found the baby in less than ten seconds. There was a television in front of me so I could see. After finding a little kidney-shaped blob, she took some kind of measurement, and said, “You’re baby’s heartbeat is 150 beats-per-minute, which is normal.”

She then handed me a printout of the screen showing Little Kidney Bean, and down in the lower right corner it said: “Fetal HB 150 bpm.”

The tech then wiped the goo away and ushered me out of the room.

Not the best bed-side manner, but we have the results we wanted, and in the end that’s all that matters.

It was the first time I allowed myself enough excitement I was willing to tell everyone. In fact, I couldn’t wait to share the news now.

I went back to work, and when both my bosses were in the office at the same time (a rare event), I told Harvey, “Do you have a few minutes?”

“Sure.”

“I need to chat at you and Ron.”

He gave me a quizzical look and said, “Okay.”

“I’ll get Ron, and meet you in your office.”

I went to Ron’s office and said the same thing.

His reaction was more overt. His eyes got huge and he looked suddenly scared.

When we got to Harvey’s office, Harvey asked, “Do you want the door closed?”

“No need,” I said.

They sat and waited.

I took a deep breath and said, “Do you remember two years ago when Dave had that surgery?”

They both nodded.

“He went in for a vasectomy reversal, and, well, it was successful.” Pause. “I am now about three months pregnant.”

Stunned silence for a few seconds then they congratulated me.

I told them my due date and said I wanted to take at least two months off.

Harvey grinned and said, “Well, you picked a perfect time to get pregnant.” It’s our slowest time of the year, so I understood his comment and laughed.

Ron laughed, too, and said, “I bet you thought of us, and made sure you’d have the baby then.”

I grinned. “Of course.”

Ron, ever the single-minded one said, “Just because you’ll be gone doesn’t mean if we need you, you can’t come in and work for a few hours, does it?”

“Well, I’ll be happy to work from home, but I can’t promise to be able to work for a few hours with no notice. There’s no guarantee I will be awake, plus finding a babysitter in such a short time will be difficult.”

After we chatted a few minutes more about it, I left, and had to share the news with most everyone else in the office. They were pretty excited.

Now, I bet you’re wondering why I would tell my co-workers before my own mother. Well, that’s because my step dad, Tom, was still out of town, and it only seemed right I should tell them together.

As luck would have it, Tom did get home yesterday, and invited us over for a little bit.

I was almost as nervous telling my mom as I was telling my bosses. On the drive to their house, I went through a dozen scenarios as to how I would break the news.

We all sat at the dining room table, and at a break in the conversation, I looked at my mom and said, “I got a gift for you.”

She looked at me funny.

“But you can’t open it for six months.”

“Then why mention it?”

I didn’t answer the question, instead dug into my purse and said, “But you get to take a peek at it.”

“Why six months?” she asked as I handed over the ultrasound picture. “Is it going to hatch?”

“Yep.”

After letting her look at Little Kidney Bean for a second I said, “I’m three months pregnant.”

She dropped the picture and stood with her arms out to me.

She was crying before we hugged. She couldn’t say anything, and neither could I for a minute. I can’t watch people cry, because it always me want to cry, too. Even Tom’s eyes got misty.

When I found my voice I whispered, “You’ve been waiting for this for a long time, haven’t you?” She could only nod in my shoulder.

We talked about it more for the next few hours, got lots of advice (no shock there), and lots of questions as to names, if I was going to breast feed, use cloth or disposable diapers, etc, etc.

I noticed at one point her staring at the picture with this stunned expression.

“Do you want to keep that?” I asked.

“Yes.”

I giggled. “You can have it.”

“I’d like a copy of it if I could,” Dave said.

“Don’t worry,” I said, “I scanned it in at work, so I can make lots of copies.”

I would add it here for you now, but I can’t. I didn’t go to work today.

It seems God figured I hadn’t had really good scare in a while.

When I went to the bathroom this morning, I noticed blood when I wiped.

I’m sure you can guess my reaction. Out of the many incoherent thoughts rife with panicked emotions, and likely one of the more fervent prayers I’ve ever uttered, one thought came through clear: “Why now, the day after I tell my mom and everyone at work? That’s simply not right.”

Irony at it’s worst.

I called work first to tell them I wouldn’t be in, then called Dave and told him what happened. He asked what I wanted to do and I said, “Come home. You may need to take me to the doctor, but I’ll make a few phone calls first.”

The doctor’s office didn’t open for another hour and a half, so I tried the number for the OB-GYN nurse practitioner on call. The receptionist told me there wasn’t one on duty (lovely), but I could call in a half an hour when the clinic opened.

Dave came in not ten minutes later. He looked as frightened as I felt. He asked me what I wanted to do, and showed him the booklet the doctor gave us at our first consultation listing all the numbers we could call.

“Did you try the Labor and Delivery number?” he asked.

“No.” I dialed the number and told the lady on the other end, “I’m three months pregnant and woke up with some bleeding. I’d like to know the best plan of action.”

She asked me about the blood and after I told her she said, “It sounds like old blood. Go ahead and put on a pad and give it a day. If it doesn’t subside, then we’ll have you come in.”

“So there’s no reason to be worried at this point?”

“No. If the blood were light in color or heavy, and you had pain, then that would be a problem.”

That was about three hours ago, and the bleeding has almost stopped. I called work again and told Wendy all that happened. She also didn’t seem all that concerned, so that perked me up some. Having three kids of her own, and experienced something similar, she knew right away it’s nothing serious. Still, though I’m physically capable of working, emotionally, not a chance.

Instead, I’m writing this entry, and will try to catch up with the rest of you.

To end on a more positive note, that still small voice has not changed it’s tune. Once I calmed down and listened, I knew even as I prayed that this was a mere bump in the road, and the baby is fine.

After all, Little Kidney Bean has a heartbeat!