Now We Panic

That weekend Joel and I already decided to go the shore and spend the time with my parents. The 4th Of July was on Tuesday of that week so we made a long weekend of it, leaving right from the sonogram place. My parents have a beautiful house on the water with Jet Skis, a boat, a little beach and a dock. Pretty much none of which a pregnant woman can enjoy. Sticking with the common theme of my being so jealous of Joel for being capable of doing all the fun stuff like walking, drinking, eating good food and now we add water sports to the mix. UGH. I was barely off crutches at this point, only allowed to walk short distances around the house. 

This holiday weekend came at the perfect time. We needed all the help we could get in planning the next five weeks of our lives until the baby came. Actually, "needing help" was an understatement. All I kept thinking was that I needed lists. Lots and lots of lists. Babies need a TON of shit. I've always said "fail to plan, plan to fail." Clearly this wasn't planned, and I was terrified we'd fail. So being with my family for the weekend to talk this out was welcomed. Once again, I needed my Mommy, and lists and the internet.

Since we'd just found out the baby was OK and I didn't break it with Coors Light, we agreed that it was now time to tell a select few, aside from the 10-20 people my mom already told. Hindsight, I'd of liked to have told Joel's parents in a cliche way with a grandma/grandpa gift or a corny card with a sonogram picture. But the reality was, we didn't have the time to mess around, this baby could fall out of me at any moment. Later I'd experience first hand that this baby certainly did NOT just "fall" out of me. More on that later. It's quite the story involving a snickerdoodle from The Great Cookie, one Nahtzee, and a lot of profanity, mostly directed at Joel.

Rewind to when Joel and I first started dating. His parents told me all about how they had a five year plan to retire to Florida. They explained that the only exception to this would be unless he or his brother produced them a grandchild. Joel and I joked about that being a not-so-subtle hint to us to get busy and make them a grandchild. But Joel and I both never wanted kids so they were S-O-L. Becoming Grandparents was something they desperately wanted but thought was never going to happen. The irony is when they told me that, I was already about one month along in my pregnancy.

We had a two hour car ride ahead of us. For a substantial portion of the drive, Joel and I didn't speak. We just sat hand in hand with a deer in the headlights look on both of our faces. I mean we were both thinking "WTF are we going to do?". Most people have nine months to prepare for a baby, we had just a fraction of that time. 1/9th of the amount of time to be exact. We figured this car ride gave us plenty of time to call the handful of people my mom didn't get to yet and give them the shocking news. Joel and I decided we should call his mother first.

"Mom, are you sitting down?" Joel said when she picked up the phone.

"Yes Joel, whats wrong?" she replied. Mom's just know sometimes.

"Remember how you were planning on retiring to Florida? Well, that's not happening anymore, Jenny is pregnant." He explains.

We didn't know when she picked up the phone, but she was out to lunch with a group of her girlfriends. She started to cry. Then we drop the bomb and tell her that I'm 35 weeks pregnant with a healthy baby. "No way!" she says through her tears. "Are you serious?" "How?" "I can't believe it!" A montage of confused questions later she congratulated and thanked us both. This was only the beginning of the shock and awe reactions we'd receive. We'd probably given her the best news she'd heard in a long time.

After we told her, something came over me. A wave of panic. I was flipping out. How irresponsible of us? How can we afford this? We are going to have to send this baby to college one day and that is expensive! We literally need everything from a crib to a car seat to baby wipes! How much do baby wipes even cost? If its a girl we have to pay for a wedding! The kid is definitely going to want a car at 16! I'm an unwed mother living in my Mothers basement making barely any money. Then it really hit me. OH MY GOD this baby is going to come out my body via my vajayjay. I hadn't even thought about that part until just now. I'd seen the video in 9th grade sex ed of that woman delivering her child. Her poor lady parts. MY poor lady parts. All I'd decided about my "birth plan" was drugs. I wanted the drugs. ALL OF THE DRUGS. Epidural, laughing gas, narcotics. ALL THE THINGS.

Now we panic. 

I ended up getting the drugs.

Looking just like her Daddy.

"Oh $hit, you're really pregnant"

This is it, time to meet our baby. We sat in that waiting room for what seemed like FOREVER. We were both terrified and anxious. I had NO prenatal care. I didn't take any prenatal vitamins. I ate sushi, over easy eggs, stinky cheese and lunch meat. I drank beer and smoked cigarettes. I went under general anesthesia, twice. I took pain pills post surgery. I had x-rays and an MRI. I did literally everything you are NOT supposed to do while pregnant. I don't think I could have prayed any harder than I did in the five weeks I knew I was pregnant.

For me, my pregnancy was already very real. Even though I still didn't feel pregnant, I had heard the heartbeat, I had seen what I think was a head on the ultrasound. Remember, "change the channel"? I only needed to know if my baby was OK. All my family needed to know was if we were having a boy or a girl because clearly that's more important than the health of my child. I think for Joel, he needed to see the baby on the monitor to know it was real. I think part of him still didn't believe me.

The whole time we sat in the waiting room I felt like everyone was staring at me. Techs and assistants would come up to the reception desk to call back patients or hand over a chart, and they would whisper to each other and look at me. I felt like screaming, "I'm right here, feel free to ask!". Finally they called us back. OK, this is it. The tech looked at my chart, looked at me, and said "are you sure you're pregnant?". No lady, I just enjoy driving downtown, finding and paying for street parking, walking blocks to appointments in the hot ass July weather and being subjected to multiple tests and scans. Yes I'm sure I'm pregnant. That question was already getting old and I've only been pregnant for two days.

I lay on the table, pull up my shirt to reveal my relatively flat yet slightly chubby belly. The tech says "Lets see how far along you really are". The moment of truth. She squirts the freezing cold gel onto my belly and we begin. The first thing we hear is the heartbeat. I look down at Joel, who is at my feet, and his eyes are welling up with tears. That was his "holy shit" moment. It was written all over his face. Yes dear, I'm actually pregnant. The tech starts pointing out all of the baby's anatomy. There is a head, two arms, two legs. There's a heart, liver, kidneys, brain, and they all look to be the right size and in the right place. I think in ultrasound school they must teach you to not show much emotion on your face. I couldn't read this woman to save my life. I kept asking "whats that?", "is that normal?". At one point I literally asked her to "change her face" when I thought she saw something wrong on the monitor. Turns out she was just in disbelief that I was hiding a four to five-ish pound baby in my belly.

THANK GOD my baby has ALL its limbs and organs. I start to cry. I cried so hard she had to stop the ultrasound for a moment because my sobbing was moving my belly too much. I started sweating got lightheaded to the point I thought I was going to pass out. They only thing that calmed me down was Joel. He was rubbing my leg and holding my hand as tears streamed down his face. I knew this guy was in it for the long haul. The tech measures the head and announces, "I can't believe it, but you have healthy 35 week old fetus due on August 4th". Relief. For the first time since finding out I was pregnant I felt like I could breathe. I didn't break our baby. Of course you can't know everything from having an ultrasound, but you can find out A LOT. And according to everything she could see, hear and measure, everything was perfectly normal.

I ask her if she can see the sex of the baby. She jams the ultrasound wand into my belly, twisting and turning it to try and get a look at the downstairs of the baby to no avail. Usually, women who know they are pregnant, get a couple ultrasounds before they are 35 weeks along. The one done around 16 weeks is when you usually can find out the sex of the baby if you choose. That's because there is plenty of room for the baby and all the parts are easily visible. My baby was head down, facing my spine, curled up in fetal position ready to make the decent into the outside world. At that time, my baby wasn't interested in moving around so we couldn't see the necesary parts, or lack there of.

I wipe off that nasty goop, get dressed and we walk back out to the reception area to check out. I wanted to tell the receptionist "I told you so." But since I'm a Mom now, I have to find and maintain a certain level of maturity, so I keep my mouth shut and smile. Joel hasn't said a word since we got to the ultrasound place. He looked like he was in a fog. We get into the car, he turns to me, puts his hand on my tummy and says "Oh shit. You're really pregnant."

Daddy and Daughter

How can you not know?

I'll be honest. I was fairly embarrassed I didn't know I was pregnant, and I still am. I mean, I've seen the TV show "I didn't know I was pregnant" too. I also thought there was no way in hell a woman could not know. I mean HOW CAN YOU NOT KNOW?!? Then it happened to me, trust me, you can not know. I already felt like the worst Mom in history for not knowing a baby was living inside me. I'm still working through that to this day almost six months later. Even at 35 weeks pregnant, my boobs didn't hurt, my feet weren't swollen, I didn't feel anything alien-like moving inside me, I didn't have the "pregnancy glow". I felt FINE. I do remember have a little bit of heartburn for a couple weeks, but I thought that was because I lived 3+ months laying on my back from my surgery and ate crap food. I guess that was my only "symptom" of my pregnancy. So basically, I was gypped of the whole experience. Everyone says I should consider myself lucky because pregnancy can be a real bitch, but apparently I'm really good at it. You bet your ass as soon as I found out, I used the "I'm pregnant" card every chance I could, I had 35 weeks to make up for.

Immediately after finding out, Joel and I both decided that we were not going to post anything on social media until the baby was born and we knew she was OK. No obligatory sonogram photos and no weekly bump pictures (what bump?). We weren't going to have a Gender Reveal Party or Baby Shower. After all, we didn't really have the time, this baby could pop out at any moment. This also meant that we couldn't go out to our regular bars/restaurants because if I didn't order a Coors Light the second I walked in the door, everyone would know. This also meant no more Pizza Thursdays. Devastating. Joel and I went out to for Pizza every Thursday. And OF COURSE the day after finding out I was pregnant was a Thursday. So we hid for five weeks. We didn't go anywhere. I prefer to refer to this time in our lives as "nesting".   

The only people who knew I was pregnant were mine and Joel's family, and everyone my Mother took the liberty of telling. We did tell a handful of our close friends, who mostly didn't believe us, or laughed. What is with you people laughing at me? We basically spent five weeks avoiding everyone. Joel and I were living life in a bubble, and it was glorious to be honest. We weren't inundated with question after question that most pregnant couples are subjected to. Because you know, anyone who ever seen a baby has an opinion on everything from epidurals to breastfeeding to what brand of ass creme to use. Yes, yes and Desitin in case you were wondering. 

All of this was still so surreal to both of us. And then we woke up on Friday, June 30th. Sonogram day. We were finally going to see this baby for the first time. I barely slept. I was worried it would have too many limbs, or not enough organs. Everything and anything that could go wrong with a developing fetus I was convinced had happened. Joel kept reminding me that the dye is cast, it is what it is, and we will deal with whatever our comes our way. I love that man. How he stayed so cool, calm and collected through the entire process is beyond me. Because I was a lunatic. 

Word to the wise all you pregos out there. STAY OFF THE INTERNET. I can't begin to tell you how many times I got lost in the vortex that is the internet. When it comes to pregnancy and parenthood, the internet is 25% horror stories about labor and delivery, 25% about products or events that have resulted in the untimely death of a child, 25% Mommy bloggers, and 25% companies trying to sell exhausted parents at 3 AM a miracle product/solution. It's a trap. A terrifying trap. 

Joel and I arrive at the sonogram place. This is it. We are going to meet our baby who has been hiding from us for the greater part of eight months. We walk in, I sign the sign-in sheet and we take a seat. The receptionist looked at my name, looked at me, back at my name. The look on her face was priceless. "You're Jennifer?". Guilty. She had obviously already reviewed my chart from my OB/GYN doctor. "You're 35 weeks pregnant?" Guilty again. She was the first of many healthcare practitioners who would be in disbelief of my current state.  

Baby's first picture

39 Weeks 

"You look really skinny!"

My coworker Diana, who is probably the sweetest person I have ever met, runs up to me, gives me a huge hug and says, "You look really skinny, like you've lost some weight!". Bless her heart. THAT is what she said to me as I crutched into the ballpark with Joel by my side. On the very day I found out I was 35 weeks pregnant, someone tells me how skinny I look. How the hell am I supposed to play that one off? It took everything Joel had not to laugh, and everything I had not to cry. Naysayers read: I didn't look pregnant, AT ALL. Diana thought I looked like I'd actually lost weight.

Hindsight, we should have skipped this work function. But Joel really wanted go. Why wouldn't he? All you can eat MD steamed crabs and all you can drink beer? For free. This is where my jealousy came back and reared its ugly head. Instead of being jealous of Joel's ability to walk, now I'd moved onto being jealous he can drink beer and I can't. Especially now. Literally all I wanted after this insane day was a beer, a shot and cigarette. Not anymore for this Mama, apparently that is frowned upon. Anyway, of course we were going.  My mother met us at the gate and gave Joel a big hug. "Hi, baby daddy!" she says in a soft voice. It keeps getting more real by the minute. 

Sometimes my Mother is hard to read. I couldn't really tell if she was happy for us, or terrified for us. I did already know that hell would have to freeze over before she let anyone call her "Grandma". I mean we aren't even allowed to acknowledge her birthday. I asked her if I was allowed to eat the crabs that were being served and she said yes, so that was a relief. I make it to my table and over walks my sister. This was torture. I am VERY close with my sister. She is my BFF. I wanted to scream "I'm pregnant" at the top of my lungs! She was also one of the few my Mother hadn't spilled the beans to yet. Don't worry, that wouldn't last long. We are talking about MY Mother. I'm surprised she didn't have my news plastered up on the JumboTron at the game or have it announced to the entire ballpark over the loudspeaker to be honest.

Joel was being beyond sweet to me the entire time. He was constantly asking if I'm OK, if I needed anything, bringing me food and drinks (non alcoholic and caffeine free, gross). Basically being his amazing self times ten. Another co-worker, Patti, who I have known for years, later told me that during that ball game, she saw Joel put his hand on my lower back and whisper something into my ear and THAT is when she knew he and I were going to be OK. It's amazing how the smallest gesture can speak volumes.

My sister is intuitive when it comes to family. She knows me very well. She immediately figured out something was up and asked both Joel and I what was wrong. We kept saying "nothing" over and over again, but she knew better. I knew my Mom couldn't keep her mouth shut much longer, I could see it eating away at her. So she pulled my sister aside to tell her "something important". My poor sister didn't have a clue just how important that "something", or should I say, someone, was. I asked my sister what transpired between her and my Mother, so i'll let her tell the story:

"Mom pulled me aside and went on a rant about how family is important and that in times of crisis we have to stick with them. This was not making any sense and I was very confused. So I stopped her ranting and asked what was happening. "Jen is pregnant" she said. I burst out laughing. There was no way she was pregnant. Obviously, she would have told me. I thought to myself this must be one of those sick jokes my family plays on each other all the time. As I was laughing my mother grabbed me by the shoulders, looked me dead in the eye and said "she's actually pregnant, 35 weeks pregnant." I looked over at my sister, who by the way doesn't look even remotely pregnant, and Joel in disbelief. I walked right over to them and said that Mom must be kidding. My sister seemed frozen, she couldn't speak, so Joel said "do you see her drinking beer?". He was right, she DEFINITELY would have a side of beer with her steamed crabs. Just in case I still didn't believe them, Joel told me to text my father and ask if this was a joke or not. So I did, and he told me that yes, she was 35 weeks pregnant and that she was panicking so I couldn't. I read that, walked around the table, gave my sister the biggest hug and told her I was there for her and that I loved her and it was going to be OK."

First of all, why is laughing hysterically my Mother and Sisters go-to reaction? Rude. Secondly, it took my lack of drinking beer for my sister to believe I was pregnant? Great. And lastly, of course, my mother had already told my father. Why was I even remotely surprised.

Proud Aunt AKA "A-Nut Caroline"

Proud Grandparents AKA "Gramps" and "Sudie"

  

Boyfriend to Baby Daddy

One would think after receiving life changing news, my Boss/Mom would give me the rest of the day off. NOPE. Not that woman. So back to work we went. I'm fairly certain she was still laughing her ass off as she walked and I crutched back into our respective offices. After less than five minutes my  Boss/Mom had told everyone we worked with MY news as if it was her story to tell. I'm still bitter about that. Nothing about this pregnancy was normal, I at least wanted the opportunity to tell my friends and family to see their reactions. And can't we all agree that the FATHER of my baby should be the next person to find out? Not according to my Mother.

Apparently, I'd spent the rest of the day with a look of disbelief on my face and barely said a word. I didn't look pregnant, I didn't feel pregnant. As a matter of fact, I'd only gained 12 pounds since my last Gynecologist visit a year ago. I attributed the 12 pound weight gain to being laid up in bed for three-ish months eating crap food because my culinarily-challenged boyfriend would just throw a Whopper Jr. at me instead of cooking . Honestly, I was just grateful someone was feeding me.

I'm pretty sure I accomplished nothing the rest of that day at work except scheduling a sonogram for that Friday. That was an interesting call. "Hi, I just found out I'm 35ish weeks pregnant and need to schedule a sonogram". That would be the first of many calls with a stunned receptionist on the other end of the line. Hindsight, I should have printed out a narrative to hand to everyone who didn't believe my story.

I call my boyfriend and tell him I need him to take off work Friday. Expecting to hear a barrage of questions, he just says "OK". Ladies and Gentleman, that is how I knew I had the right guy. I called him and told him I needed him, and without hesitation he says he is going to be there, no questions asked. That work day dragged on forever.

Later that afternoon, Joel comes home and does his usual after work routine. I dreaded telling him. I had an irrational fear that he'd leave me. We both had been adamant that we never wanted kids. Little did Joel know I was about to blow his mind and our lives would be changed for-ev-errrrr. He sits on the end of the bed and starts talking about some bullshit, honestly I don't even remember what he was going on about. "We have to talk", I interrupt. He probably thought I was about to break up with him the way his face looked. I start to cry. Ugly cry, Kim Kardashian ugly, snot bubbles, ugly cry. "Joel, I'm pregnant, like really pregnant."

"OK babe, it's not the end of the world, we have options. It's going to be OK." He replies. Again people. THIS is how I know I had unintentionally picked the right guy for the job. "Options", funny Joel, he thought we had "options".

"We don't have options, Joel! I'm 35 weeks pregnant. This baby is coming. You can't stop a train". A train. I compared our baby to a train. His mouth opened. I mean dropped open in a way that I almost worried his jaw had dislocated. I waited and waited for a response. I could see the wheels turning in his head. I could see him trying to process this information to no avail. After about 2-3 minutes, which seemed like a lifetime, I say "words Joel, I need words".

The moment of truth. Will he bail? Will he run away and leave me to raise this baby all alone? Will he be mad at me because my birth control failed? Nope, none of the above. He leans in a wraps his arms around my ugly crying self and says "OK, we are going to be OK, we can do this". RELIEF. Thank God. At that moment, baby or not, I knew this was the man I was going to marry. After all, he had been asking me every single day for months to marry him and I'd always said no.

In true Jenny fashion, I had picked the perfect day to find out I was 35 weeks pregnant. I'd of preferred to have a low key evening at home with my newly appointed "baby daddy" absorbing the days information but noooo. That evening we had my company's crab feast at a ballpark. Am I even allowed to eat crabs? I have so many questions. We had to start making moves and get ready to go out for the evening. We hop in the shower together, Joel looks me up and down, rubs my non-existent baby bump and says "where is it hiding in there!?". I think at this point he still didn't believe I was pregnant.

We hop in the car and off we go. I immediately noticed a change in Joel's driving. My once Mario Andretti-like driver had turned Grandma, riding the slow lane the entire 40 minute drive. I knew at that moment he was going to be the BEST Dad.

Proud Daddy just after Jordan's birth

We did it! 

It's not a tumor!

There I was. Laying spread eagle on the exam table with a stranger giving me a death warrant. Or so I thought. Boy, (or should I say girl) was I wrong. Honestly, I just wanted Joel and my Mommy to magically appear and tell me everything was going to be OK. All of those terrible thoughts that had been racing through my mind came spilling out of me like the water over Niagara Falls. My doctor, bless her soul, seemed to switch from the role of a doctor to a mother almost instantly. She took my legs out of the stirrups, helped me sit up and put her hands on my shoulders, looked me in the eye and told me to simply, breathe.

OK, if you say so. I breathed. I managed to calm myself down enough to stop sobbing and we continued. I'm sure I was acting as if I was going to die on the table that very second. At that moment, the nurse comes back with the results of the pregnancy test I'd taken at the beginning of the appointment. Negative. Duh. I barely gave that any thought because I obviously knew I wasn't pregnant and I had MUCH bigger problems as of now. My doctor asks the nurse to wheel in the ultrasound machine so we can "see whats going on with this thing." Thing. She called it a thing. For some reason that made me laugh. I lay back down, she squirts the freezing cold jelly onto my skin and starts exploring my abdomen with the wand. I couldn't bring myself to look at the screen because that would make everything real. All the sudden I hear a heartbeat, racing. It was so fast. I immediately think its my own heartbeat that we are hearing because I am obviously in a state of panic.

"OH MY GOD!" she exclaims. Well, that's not good. You never want to hear a doctor say those three words. I'm convinced that at any moment the life will drain out of me and I will die right then and there. "Your mass has a heartbeat!". It was almost as if I hadn't processed the actual words she'd said. I was only focused on how happy she sounded and I couldn't comprehend why she was so happy that I was basically dying.

I yelled, "WAIT, WHAT DID YOU SAY?"

She repeated herself. "Your mass has a heartbeat! You're pregnant!". Liar. Liarpants. She's totally lying. What kind if sick joke is she trying to play? The nurse literally just told us both I was definitely NOT pregnant. I finally bring myself to look at the screen on the ultrasound.

"Change the channel, that is NOT my uterus" I say as if I was watching some sort of TV show. She bursts out laughing. She does her best to measure the "baby" that has secretly taken up shop inside my uterus and determines I'm somewhere between 34 and 35 weeks. That means this "baby" is viable outside the womb. Full Term. Its a person. I could deliver at any moment.

This has to all be a dream and I'm going to wake up soon, right? Obviously not. This is real life and I'm living it. The remainder of that appointment is a total blur. So. Much. Information. I guess I'm not leaving this appointment with a refill of my birth control anymore. The only information I did retain is that I need to return weekly until my delivery and get a sonogram and blood work done ASAP. I left that appointment with a million questions I hadn't thought to ask, a pile of pamphlets on pregnancy, labor and delivery, lab slips and referrals.

Clearly, I can't call my boyfriend of less than a year and tell him this life altering news over the phone. So, I call my Mommy. As calm as possible I tell her she needs to get in the car right now and come pick me up. She's my Mommy. She can hear it in my voice that something is very wrong. I was supposed to take an Uber back to our shared workplace after my "routine" appointment. She probably asked me "whats wrong" ten times over the phone but there was no way in hell I was telling her like that. I need to see her face, and more importantly, I needed a damn hug, I needed my Mommy.

From what I'm told, she literally jumped up from her desk and runs out of the office into her car and at warp speed comes to my rescue. Seriously, she must have made that 25 minute drive in 15 flat. You see, a couple years prior I'd tested positive for the BRCA gene, the gene that gives you a predisposition for ovarian cancer and breast cancer. So my poor Mom was thinking that I was dying much like I thought when I was told about my "mass" turned baby.

That was the longest 15 minutes of my life. I'd never felt so alone and scared. I was the only person that knew about my baby. The baby that I'd unknowingly carried for nearly 8 months. I was terrified I'd broken the baby. Read: Coors Light. I loved me some Coors Light. At that moment I'd regretted every single Coors Light I'd ever consumed more than I did the day I woke up with my first hangover. There I sat on the steps, tears streaming down my face, waiting for my ride, waiting for my Mommy to save me. She pulls up, flashers on, doesn't even wait for me to grab the door handle, rolls down the window and yells at me again asking "whats wrong!?".

I get in the car. I look at her, sobbing. I can't stop. I have never seen my mother look so concerned in her entire life. "IS IT CANCER?" she asks.

"No Mom, IT'S WORSE! I'm pregnant!" I reply.

A look of relief washes over her face and she LAUGHS.
Hysterically.
The entire 25 minute drive home.

Me. August 3, 2017. In labor at the Hospital

June 28, 2017: A date that will live in infamy

It was a Wednesday. Just like any other Wednesday. I wake up, drag myself to the end of the bed, grab my crutches, for without them I am helpless and immobile. I struggle to leash up the animals and take them outside and try not to die by getting tangled in their leashes. Although my dogs only weigh 12lbs each, they are strong as hell when they have to pee first thing in the morning. You see, just a month before this fateful day, one of my crutches did get tangled in a dog leash and I fell, hard, onto the concrete floor of the garage and fractured my fibula. Naturally, on the same leg that I'd had surgery on. Later, I'd find out that this bone fractured so easily because of the fetus who secretly was residing inside me was stealing all my calcium thus making my bones brittle.

My lovely coworker, Erin, picks me up and takes me to work because my brilliant self decided years ago to buy a Jeep Wrangler with a manual transmission that I cannot operate without use of both of my legs. On this particular Wednesday, I have my yearly Gynecologist appointment. My routine exam, PAP smear, and most importantly, (the only reason I even show up to this dreaded appointment) for a refill on my birth control. My lovely Mother/Boss ever so kindly offers me a ride downtown to my appointment. In reality, I'm sure she just didn't want me charging my Uber ride to her account. She drops me off, I crutch into my appointment, exchanged the usual pleasantries with the front desk ladies and the nurse who sets me up in my exam room. I put on the ever so flattering paper gown and wait. I'll never understand why they make you wait so damn long in a freezing cold exam room wearing an itchy, uncomfortable, ass-less paper gown for so long.

In walks the doctor, who also happens to be a Midwife. I haven't seen this woman before because there a few doctors in the practice but what did I care? I just wanted to get my prescription and get the hell out of there. Maybe I should have seen that as a red flag. She asks the usual questions, when was your last period? Are you sexually active? Changes to your medical history? Etc. After the chit chat its time for the exam. The worst part. Apologies in advance as this might get graphic. First the dreaded speculum. Definition: A medical tool for investigating body orifices. Up my vajajay that goes, she fishes around for a while, does the PAP smear and after a few minutes removes the device of torture. Thank God we are halfway done. Next, the pelvic exam. Oh goody. She inserts what feels like her entire arm up to her elbow inside me. OUCH. A look of concern and sympathy washes over her face. Much like the look your parents would give you when they have to tell the childhood version of you some terrible news like your hamster/cat/dog/bird died. She pulls her arm out of me and says the scariest thing I've ever heard in my entire life. "Oh sweetie, you have a mass in your uterus".

My mind races a mile a minute. OH F#%K. Mass=tumor=cancer. I'm dying. It's over. I'm going to lose my hair. How am I going to tell my family? What about Joel? Who is going to take care of my dogs?

Spoiler alert--- This is my "mass"

Sonogram June 30, 2017

Hello, My Name Is...

Yes, you read that right. FIVE weeks. I knew I was pregnant for five weeks. 35 days. 840 hours. 50,400 minutes. My name is Jennifer but my friends call me Jenny. If you are one of the handful of people to take the time to read my blog, we are now friends. Before my accelerated journey to motherhood, I was your typical 32 year old female. If you consider being broke, divorced, working part-time for your mom earning just over minimum wage, living in your parents basement for over a year basically on bed rest after three failed knee surgeries and recovering from a fourth Hail Mary surgery to be "typical". Then yes, I was your typical 32 year old female. Until June 28, 2017 happened. The day my life got flipped-turned upside down (please tell me you get that reference). But, before we get to that totally insane, can't make this shit up day, let me elaborate on the aforementioned typicality of my life.

I married my first husband at 21. Hindsight 20/20, not my best decision. Twelve years of life later, we divorced. That story isn't worthy of my time to write it or your time to read it. It happened. The End. After that, I moved into an apartment. One year and one rebound boyfriend later, I (literally) crawled back home to Mommy and Daddy into their open arms with a torn ligament in my knee and two dogs in tow. The first three attempts to fix said ligament failed. During this time I met my now husband, Joel. My lifesaver. My tattoo covered, Star Wars obsessed, heavy metal music lover, soulmate. The man who I never thought I'd fall head over heels in love with and end up marrying one day. 

Unbeknownst to both of us, he impregnated me in November 2016 after just over 6 weeks of dating. Now, before all you haters all sound off at once, I was on the pill and had been for 15+ years.  In addition, before any surgery they make you pee in a cup to test for pregnancy the day of surgery, and a blood test within 30 days before. So the two surgeries I had while pregnant I tested negative for pregnancy. So no, I'm not a moron, I was told by a man with an M.D. behind his name that I was not pregnant, more than once. Moving on. Joel and I went out, we partied, we had A LOT of fun. We did everything a kid-less couple in their early 30's would do in the honeymoon phase of a relationship. We shared Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, and Valentine's Day. Then March 1, 2017 it was time for Hail Mary surgery #4. This surgery would put me basically on bed rest for 3-4 months. Being waited on hand at foot 24/7. Binge watching Netflix until my eyes hurt. The amount of times the screen popped up and asked "Are you still watching: Grey's Anatomy?" is embarrassing. Sounds great right? Nope. It was the worst kind of hell. I remember telling Joel I'd rather give birth than go through that. 

Oh the irony. 

I was a terrible patient. Joel was a God send. My family was incredible. I know they all wanted to kill me at times, OK, most of the time, but alas, we all made it out relatively unscathed. Joel and I crutched through those terrible months together. I did all the crutching, his lucky ass got to walk through it like a normal person. I honestly think it made us stronger as a couple, maybe we got by with a little help from my friend, Percocet. The recovery was slow, painful, and most of all frustrating. I just wanted my life back. I wanted to simply walk and was SO jealous of everyone who could. Read: Joel. That poor man took on the brunt of my frustration like a true champion. I hated him for being capable of walking. Looking back I now realize how ridiculous that was; to be mad at someone for being able to walk. I eventually got well enough to start my job doing menial tasks working for my Mom, still on crutches. Then they day that would live in infamy happened. June 29, 2017. The day I found out I was 35 weeks pregnant. My stomach still drops out like it does when you drive over a sharp hill when I think about that day. 

Much like basically every episode of the greatest TV series of our time, Grey's Anatomy, I feel it fitting to leave this post on a cliffhanger. 

Until next time, friends! Bear with me. I promise my story is worth the read. I promise to be as entertaining as possible in sharing my terrifying catapult into motherhood. 

Here is a picture of the end result of this journey to hold you over.

Jordan Faris
Born August 4, 2017