On our way to my appointment this morning, I was thinking to myself that everyone in the office was going to think I was weird because I wasn’t crying. Then we pulled into the parking garage. All of the sudden, memories of our last appointment came flying at me. We had just had our “big” ultrasound, and Dave and I were in complete shock. After 14 weeks of being 100% certain that Wham Bam (what we called Jillian until we had a name) was a boy, we had just learned that she was actually a girl. As all of those memories surfaced (it was only two months ago, but it feels like a lifetime ago), I knew that going in for my appointment was going to be extremely difficult, and I didn’t have to worry about anyone thinking I was weird for not crying anymore.
I spoke with one of the nurses from the office last week and had already made arrangements for me to be taken straight to an exam room, thankfully. The nurse practitioner, who has been one of my favorite people in the office for a long time, came in, hugged me, and let me cry. And cry. And cry. She spent a long time with us, and answered as many questions as she could. Unfortunately, like we knew would probably happen, there are no answers for why my water broke. Everything looked normal, including my placenta. The only abnormalities detected are consistent with someone who has had a c-section. There were no signs of infection. In a way, I was glad to hear it, because I was afraid that I would hear it was an infection, caused by something stupid like the feta I didn’t bother to completely pick off my pasta salad on my flight home the night before my water broke. On the other hand, I kind of wanted to hear it was something like an infection, a fluke that I wouldn’t really need to worry about with my next pregnancy.
She told us that I would not be considered high risk for my next pregnancy, and while they will do anything they can to make me feel more assured the next time, even if that means going in there every week (Dave and I already started the plans for moving into an exam room next time), it didn’t sound like there’s anything they can do to make sure things are normal the next time. My cervix was totally fine at my 18 week ultrasound. She said I should definitely set up a consultation with the high risk doctor in the practice, and I have a feeling we’re going to set up consultations with other high risk doctors before we start trying again. Even though we’re probably never going to have any answers, and it’s likely that nobody will ever be able to put us at ease about future pregnancies, I still want to do some answer shopping first.
We asked about trying again, and she initially said one year. That went over like a lead balloon. As I sat there sobbing, I was making plans in my head to start phone calls to get a second opinion before we were even out the door. Fortunately, she took care of the second opinion for us, and we’ve now been told to wait six months. Because I will not be allowed to go into labor (well, hopefully) and will have a scheduled c-section, the risk from my uterus tearing during labor is lower, so she and an OB in the practice agreed we could start trying again in six months. Obviously, we may get to six months and decide we’re not ready to try again (being pregnant again is my new biggest fear), but we’ll see. I feel better with a six month wait. One year just seems too far away.
So, that’s that. I guess the good news is that we weren’t told not to try again. The nurse practitioner is going to speak with the OB who did my c-section to verify that everything looked normal (there wasn’t anything in the report) and we’ll go back in four weeks, but I guess the appointment went as well as could be expected.
On another topic, if you’ve sent me an email in the past few days and I haven’t responded, I’m sorry. I know nobody is expecting me to write back right away, but I still feel bad about not responding. I promise I’m not trying to shut anyone out, and I do appreciate everyone’s emails, but the energy it takes me to write back is a little more than I can muster most of the time. I’ll write back soon, and I promise, despite everything, I’m okay.