This is one of those posts just for me. And maybe eventually for Charlee to read. But feel free to join me in my reminiscing. Just keep in mind that it’s mostly words, not many pictures.
I know my memory and am pretty sure the following story will only be 90% true. Not because I’m lying or exaggerating, but because I can’t remember it well enough anymore since it didn’t happen 2 hours ago so I’ll write what I’m pretty sure happened.
THIS is the story of Charlee’s premature entrance into this world…
First off. Charlee was not supposed to happen. 🙂 I may or may not have said something that sounded a lot like “sheet” when I saw the pregnancy test (my mom is going to be really disappointed in me). I TOTALLY did NOT think I was pregnant when I took the test. My fellow life group girls convinced me I should take one, so as to appease them, I went ahead and did it. As I was just chatting with my friend Alyson on the phone, I casually walked into the bathroom to throw away the test. Upon picking it up, I screamed the aforementioned word, proceeded to melt against the bathroom wall and slid to the ground in a heaping mess. This was not supposed to happen. We are poor. We are young. We are unprepared. I wanted to go to EUROPE! I can’t take a baby to Europe! This was so not the plan. God is funny that way.
To my surprise, the idea of having a baby actually grew on me. And grew in me. At our 20 week appointment, we had our big sonogram to find out the sex of the baby and all the other important checks that the doctor has to do to make sure the baby is growing accordingly. When we walked in, the technician said, “Do y’all want to know the sex?” I said, “Well, my husband does, but I don’t want to know.” We were going to have a reveal party that weekend and I wanted to find out with my friends and family. She seemed to understand the statement, but after digging around for the baby parts (or lack thereof) she announced, “Well, it’s definitely a girl!” What the what? Seriously woman? I looked at Clark, and with some attempts at discretion, asked him with my eyes, “Did she not understand? What part of what I said was unclear? Can we start this appointment over?” But in my passive aggressiveness, smiled, laughed and said, “Yay!” Idiot. I really was excited it was a girl… but it was hard to be excited and frustrated at the same time.
Then the actual doctor walked in to do the rest of the tests, basically just to make sure that all the major organs look good. For about 15 minutes he rubbed ALL over my belly with the ultrasound wand thingy and typed things into his fancy computer. He’d zoom in and out and all around and would occasionally say reassuring things like, “Heart rate looks good…” or “Lungs are working fine.” But towards the end, he seemed to be silent for a while. Eventually, he wiped me down and helped me sit up, cleared his throat and informed us that something wasn’t quite right.
He called it a single umbilical artery (SUA) and assured us that it wasn’t that big of a deal, it just meant that we would get to have a lot more sonograms than we normally would “which is fun!” I could tell he’d done this before. Here’s the gist: in the umbilical cord, there should be two arteries and one vein. The blood goes in through the vein and out through the arteries between the placenta and the baby. He kept telling us that of all abnormalities, this is VERY common and the majority of the time there is ZERO effect on the baby. However, there is a small chance that it could cause problems with certain organs (liver, heart, intestines, kidneys) and that the baby could have low birthweight so we will just have to monitor the baby closely throughout pregnancy.
It seemed like a somewhat unsuccessful appointment altogether. Dumb technician. Dumb umbilical cord.
So we had countless appointments to get ultrasounds. Everything looked “perfect” every single time. He kept saying, “It doesn’t look like the single artery is affecting the baby at all.” I’m not really a stresser, and I see this as a blessing. I tend to ere on the side of “everything is going to be fine.” SO throughout the process, I was never really that worried about it and assumed that I would have a wonderful, blissful childbirth with an epidural and no pain and no screaming and a perfect baby and happy tears.
Then, at 35 weeks, we had our final appointment…
and I’ll write about what happens next soon. I’ve already written a novel and that little munchkin baby just woke up from a nap.