Six years ago this week a miracle happened. Six years ago yesterday, despite being told that I would probably never be able to get pregnant, TheODDDad and I welcomed our little Bear into the world...and our lives were never to be the same again.
You see, I have a "girl" problem that causes infertility. (Fine, I have endometriosis, if you must know.) About seven years ago I had surgery to figure out the cause of the problems I was having, only one of which was the fact that I wasn't pregnant despite two years of trying. After the surgery my gynecologist described my insides as looking like "a dog's breakfast." That, my friends, is never a good description of your insides. My doctor, who was very young and who we really liked, informed us as gently as she could that my chances of getting pregnant were between about 2% and 20% and, since IVF wasn't really an option for us because of my situation, we might want to consider looking at adoption.
What followed was probably the darkest few months of my life, as I wrestled with a depression that I couldn't quite seem to shake. Let's put it this way...TheODDDad and I went to the mall one day, and he left me for all of about 5 minutes to go find the washroom. When he came back he found me huddled against the wall, sobbing uncontrollably. A dad pushing a baby in a stroller had gone by...
About a month later I discovered I was pregnant, and the sun came out again. My surgeon's reaction when I called to tell her? "You can't be!" I guess my chances were closer to the 2% than the 20%.
At 14 weeks, however, I started to hemorrhage while I was at work. While waiting in the emergency room for a gynecologist to come see me, the doctor in the ER did a preliminary exam. "Am I losing the baby?" I asked as I clung desperately to TheODDDad's hand. "I'm not a specialist, but probably," was the dumb-ass's response. An hour later the specialist appeared pushing the ultrasound machine, and proceeded to show us Bear, still snug and safe where he was supposed to be.
At the time, the doctor couldn't tell why I was bleeding, so I was sent home to rest. When the bleeding started up again the following week, a second ultrasound revealed a blood clot between the wall of my uterus and the placenta. I was ordered to rest until it had completely disappeared, and wasn't allowed to leave the house for about six weeks. It was only when Bear was about a year old that my GP looked me in the eye and said "You know you were starting to miscarry, don't you?"
If you think the complications end there, you're wrong. Bear was induced because he was a week overdue and my blood pressure was skyrocketing. His heart rate dropped and rebounded every time I had a contraction, which was not reassuring. After two hours of pushing and him not moving (and his heart rate dropping), it was decided that a c-section was in order. Great...everything would be fine after that, right? Wrong. Bear wasn't breathing when he was born, which TheODDDad hid from me. "The doctors are just checking him out, Sweetie, but I can see him and he's beautiful," he reassured me (or words to that effect). In reality, though, my poor hubby was watching the doctors and nurses working on our baby, knowing full well that something was wrong. But then those little lungs filled with air and all was right with the world.
I've already shared some horror stories in this blog, and there will be a lot more to come, but the reality is that my little boy brings me more joy than I ever thought possible. He's smart, he's funny, he's precocious, he's mischievous, he's loud, he's crazy, and he's mine. His hugs and his kisses bring sunshine to my day. And as much as his ADHD and ODD are problems, they're also part of what makes him so special. The hyperactivity and lack of impulse control that got him sent home from day four of Junior Kindergarten (yup) also cause him to go racing through a room bellowing "I LOVE YOU, MOMMY!!!"
He is my Bear, he is my miracle, and I thank God for the privilege of being his mommy.