It's good news

Thank you everyone for your well-wishes. I really appreciate it. There was a little 'peanut' in there, as my obg called it. One peanut. And it had a heartbeat.




The day was long. I was extra sick, I didn't have enough work to do to keep me distracted, and I had this growing sense of doom. I think it felt a little too deja vu. I kept thinking - these might be the last hours I can call myself pregnant.



DH arrived in time and that made me happy and more scared, simultaneously. What was I about to subject him to? As soon as the scan went up and the vagcam went in, I could tell there was a small blob and a larger blob. I knew that was about right. But I couldn't see any movement. None at all. No limbs, but more importantly, no flickering heart. My own heart stood still for a minute. I stared without blinking at the screen, waiting, hoping, wondering if it just was never going to happen for me. My obg kept squirming the cam around and I didn't have the greatest view of the screen but still, it felt like the feeling was draining out of me as I grew more anxious. The picture was so....still. There is the 'peanut,'...but did it make it?



Then, without any warning and without saying anything the obg flipped on the sound and there it was. wherrr wherrr wherr. And a jaggedy line appeared across the bottom showing the sound. The tears just came. "That's it's little heart" I told DH.



Everything measured right on schedule. Farther, actually, than I had expected. I had calculated 7w3d but it's 7w5d apparently. EDD is 8/20. What she wouldn't tell me was the heart rate. WTF? I asked what it was and she said she wasn't going to calculate it because it's so variable at this stage. She said it looked like it was in the 140's. I was too happy to fight. But seriously? I had never heard of such a thing. She prides herself on keeping anxiety at bay in her patients, but I think it would have calmed me down a little to hear a good healthy number.



Immediately upon concluding that the peanut was viable, the conversation turned to genetic testing. Then it got scary because DH mentioned that his mother and two of her three sisters had developed adult-onset kidney disease and eventually died from it. She looked alarmed and referred us to a genetic counselor. I felt almost guilty and worried. I knew about this - why hadn't I thought more about it? Researched it some? How could I be so irresponsible as to create a life without taking this more seriously.



Although DH is not sure of the specific condition his mom and her sisters suffered from, my obg concluded almost immediately that it must be polycystic kidney disease. Symptoms develop between 30 and 40 or earlier and it is usually fatal eventually unless the patient undergoes a kidney transplant or dialysis. I knew that people in DH's family had died from this but no one in his generation has been affected and I always assumed it was a tragedy of underdeveloped health care in the country where DH grew up. Turns out, the women probably would not have fared any better had they lived here. His mother actually had a kidney transplant in the US and still passed away from the disease at the age of 56. There really is no cure. This is serious stuff.



I asked dr. google about it and turns out, it's caused by an autosomal dominant gene which means that if one parent has it, there is a 50/50 chance that the child will have it. If neither parent actually suffers from the disease, it's unlikely that the child will. So the question is - does DH have the disease? I had never really considered this. He seems fine. He included himself in the generation who hasn't been affected. But he's only 33. Theoretically, symptoms could have yet to show themselves. If he doesn't have it, I'm not so worried for any of our potential children. If he does have it, god help us. He's done a lot of tests though, and they've all come back clean - despite one of the most respectable college drinking habits i have ever seen. So I'm not too worried. We're inclined to not even make the appointment with the geneticist since nothing they could tell us will make a difference for this pregnancy.



This whole experience has made me a paranoid cynic. It reminds me of that scene in - what was it, Gatt!ca? When the mother has a baby and the doctors take a quick test and even as they're handing the babe to the mother for the first time, they're already reciting all the problems with it and the estimated date of death. That's what it feels like sometimes. It makes me wonder if this is all futile. Or how anyone can live to 80 or 90. One thing I do know is that there is enough out there to worry about to kill a person and at some point I'm just going to need to let it go. Like now would be a good time.