Birth of a Mother

Part 11

Me & God

Ever since the second miscarriage, I had been bargaining with God. My mom had always told me that God doesn't make deals and that it was never a good idea to try. I still wanted a little assurance that things were going to work out this time so I “told” (Who did I think I was, telling the Creator of the Universe what to do?) God that He could give me the world's worst case of morning sickness if He would just let this baby live. He, in fact, couod give me every negative side effect of pregnancy if it would ensure the survival of my baby. (Wasn't I an easy human to please?)

I told my Mom about our deal. Again, she said, “Tanya, God doesn't make deals.”

The next evening, I sat eating a big bowl of pasta I had carefully prepared with fresh veggies and a little fresh cheese for dairy. I was determined to do everything “right” this time around starting with nourishing my baby with healthy food. I had barely made a dent in it before I ran to the bathroom.

The next morning, feeling queasy, I tried some dry toast. Halfway to work, I had to pull over to the side of the road to get sick.

By lunchtime I was feeling better....until I ate. Ten minutes later (you guessed it) I threw up.

I didn't have morning sickness. I had all day and all night sickness. By the end of my first trimester I had lost weight instead of gained. I was drinking a ton of water to keep from getting dehydrated but eventually even that wouldn't stay down. In the beginning, I had thought my getting sick was a good sign that I was finally going to have a healthy, normal pregnancy. However, when I started losing weight I became fearful that my baby wasn't getting enough nutrition. I was also fearful that instead of God keeping a deal with me He was punishing me for trying to tell Him what to do.

The doctors all assured me that the baby was fine. It's heart rate was always good and strong. My uterus was growing at a normal rate, indicating that the baby was growing at a normal rate as well. I had a hard time believing it though. After all this effort to sustain a pregnancy and have a baby, was my body going to find a way to reject it? That's what it felt like every time I threw up.

Finally, my doctors tried two different anti-nausea medications. Neither one helped. I tried every natural remedy in my best friend's arsenal. (Carri really felt strongly against traditional medicine. At first, I fought her on it but after four months I was desperate to try any and all herbal remedies.) They didn't help much either. As a last resort, the doctor had me try one that was commonly used for treating nausea in chemotherapy patients. Zofran. Victory, at last! Now, I was only vomiting once a day. I thought, now I can truly enjoy my pregnancy.

At sixteen weeks, I felt the first fluttering movements of my baby. I wasn't sure at first but within days I knew I could tell the difference between gas and a baby. Finally, had near constant concrete evidence that the baby was alive and well. I wouldn't have to rely on my monthly visits to the doctors' office to hear thirty seconds of heartbeats. I was so happy I would tell Ian every time I felt something. I think it bothered him that he couldn't feel anything from the outside yet. My tummy had finally started to show and that seemed to excite him more than anything. Often, as I got bigger and bigger, he'd come up behind me at work when I'd be in his part of the dealership and he'd lift my maternity shirt up just enough to bare my swelling belly to whoever was unfortunate enough to be facing us. “Look at the belly! That's my baby in there! Isn't this the cutest belly?” All those mechanics, young guys, old guys who just knew me as Tanya in Accounting often burst into big smiles or shyly turned red in the face. By the time I had gotten really big, it was as if our baby belonged to the whole shop too. Those crass, often cussing, gruff guys who used to flirt or talk like a sailor around me before now treated me as if I was made of glass. It's amazing how a baby can soften almost anyone.

At seventeen and a half weeks we went for the “big” ultrasound. We wanted to know the baby was healthy and we wanted to know what we were having. I was afraid, since I wasn't very big from all that all day sickness that the ultrasound technician wouldn't be able to see much that day.

I climbed onto the table and Ian sat in a chair next to me facing the monitor. This was the first visit he had accompanied me on and he showed the same nervousness I had had on my first visit to hear the baby's heartbeat.

“Are you alright, honey?” I asked.

“”Mmm..hmmm,” he answered.

“Y'all ready to see this little one?” Asked the boisterous ultrasound technician as she breezed in through the door.

“Oh, yes!” I answered.

Ian just nodded.

She got the tube of conducer jelly out and applied it to my swollen belly. Before she put the wand on my tummy she asked if we wanted to know the baby's sex.

“Yes, please,” I responded.

My husband just nodded.

She placed the wand on my belly and literally, three seconds later, before we even had a chance to adjust our eyes to the image on the monitor, she said “Here's your little baby boy!”

Ian sprung from his seat and almost leapt to the screen.

“How can you tell that? I mean, you've barely put the thingee on her and now you say you see a boy? Are you sure?” He stood transfixed staring at the monitor.

She said, “Yes, I'm very sure.” She pointed out a light area that we still couldn't focus on.

My husband was grinning.

She pointed out all the appropriate things and we were thrilled that our baby was healthy and resembled a tiny human and not Mr. Peanut.

She left the room after the scan so I could get dressed. Ian sat back down. He was still smiling.

In all my life, I'll never forget the moments we found out we were having a son. My husband had never looked happier and I felt a new, stronger connection to him and our baby. Nothing could dim my happiness.

We left the office with our videotape and the printed out black and white pictures from the ultrasound.

Little did any of us know, but developing inside me was a perilous conditition that we'd never heard of or read about. In fact, it was nearly impossible to detect on ultrasound. But in a few months it would reveal itself and then...we would all know more than we had ever wanted to.