Thursday, July 19, 2007

Percocet Post aka Ooops, I'm Pregnant

I haven't had any need for the Percocet for a while now, but I did "compose" this post one night after my medication had relaxed me significantly. The funny and/or sad thing is it reads pretty much like my sober posts. Which means we can infer I am the same whether under the influence or not. And yes. Given enough M&Ms I will dance on the table.

I don't know why I even thought of this. Katie's birthday isn't until October. Maybe it was because I just had a hysterectomy and this was the last time my uterus did its job. But for whatever reason, here it is:

Sometime during the first two weeks of 1994 I found myself with a few suspicious symptoms. I ran to the bathroom every 30 minutes or so, certain smells made me queasy, my breasts were sensitive – I was very nearly sure I was pregnant. The problem was that I hadn’t convinced Todd we needed another child yet. Taylor was about 20 months old and Todd worried he’d never be able to love another child as much as he loved his firstborn.

I’d only skipped a couple days of my birth control pills in December because I’d forgotten to get my refill before the pharmacy was closed for Christmas and I started them up again as soon as I was able. My ob/gyn nurse told me to stop taking the pills in case I was truly pregnant and if I started my period to go another month without the pills to give my body a break from the confusion. “Don’t forget alternative protection,” she warned.

So I did what she said and a couple days later I started my period. The same day as my supervisor’s wedding – January 15th. I was so used to keeping track of my cycle by my birth control pills that I didn’t bother to write it down on the calendar. Between two hectic, exhausting jobs and a demanding toddler there wasn’t a huge need for “alternative protection”, but we had our supplies just in case.

A week later I went on a business trip to Mobile, Alabama for several days, returning home on January 27th. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but it also makes for two impatient individuals who, in the heat of passion may have forgotten the nurse’s warning. Just once.

Another couple of weeks and Todd started questioning me about when I’d start my period. I’d completely forgotten the fact my last period had started the day of Angel’s wedding and I told him I wasn’t sure, but it would probably be in the next week or so.

The following Friday I was at work and something was said about Angel’s wedding. My memory was triggered and I grabbed a calendar to count. I came up with 35 days which meant I’d counted wrong. So I counted again and I still came up with 35 days. The third time I used a pen to mark each day so I’d know I didn’t count a week twice and when it said 35 days I knew I had a serious problem.

A defective calendar.

Because I was a legal assistant and responsible for keeping track of hearings, trials and deadlines I had several calendars. They all said the same thing. Which I figured meant they all came from the same defective lot. There was a faint screaming going on somewhere in the recesses of my mind, but I shut that door and ignored it.

Everyone else was out of the office so I went into a co-worker’s office and counted on her calendars. Same thing – 35 days. Next was my secretary’s calendar. I thought maybe the secretaries used a different lot, but apparently I was wrong. I couldn’t believe that the law firm had ended up with an entire batch of erroneous calendars.

I walked back to my office in a daze and finished out the rest of the day with a minimum of conscious thought. It seemed a bit ironic that when I’d felt pregnant I wasn’t. And when I wasn’t paying any attention it looked like I might be.

It was obvious a pregnancy test was going to be needed since the calendars were of no help. As I pulled up to the pharmacy on the way home I realized I didn’t have any jewelry on, including a wedding ring. Yes, I know it was 1994 and a woman didn’t have to be married to have a baby. But I’m old school so I blabbered on to the pharmacist how I really was married – had been nearly six years – but I just forgot to put on my wedding band that morning. Without any emotion he looked at me and said, “Lady, this is Southwest Little Rock. I could care less.”

Taylor was in day care part time and my parents watched him the rest of the time. They were at my house with him and when I walked in Todd was visiting with them. “I told Gab and Candy that if we were to have a girl, which we’re not going to have any more children so it’s a moot point, but we like the name Katie,” I heard him say.

There was no time for pleasantries. Clenching my paper bag with white knuckles, I rushed in, said, “Todd, I need to see you in the bedroom. Now!” and ran on down the hall. My distress was obvious and he quickly followed me in.

I turned around to face him and pulled the kit out of my bag. It took a minute for the implications to register, but I knew the instant he realized what I was about. I explained the calendar situation to him and reminded him about the night I got home from Alabama.

I took care of business and Todd set the timer on his watch for five minutes. I sat on the bed while he paced back and forth, mumbling about how he knew he’d get used to the idea of another child, but this wasn’t part of the plan, but he would be happy about it, but this was really not part of the plan, but another baby would be a blessing, but this absolutely was not part of the plan.

When the watch started beeping we looked at each other, took a deep breath and walked into the bathroom. Staring us full in the face, as plain as day, was a big, pink plus sign. Part of the plan or not, neither one of us could keep the huge grins from our faces.

He hugged me and kissed me, then grabbed the stick (with the lid back on, of course) and left me in the room to show my parents. He handed the stick to my mom and at first she had no idea what it was. It didn’t take long to dawn on her, though, and the first thing she said was, “OH! If it’s pink does that mean it’s a girl?” At that time my parents had eight grandchildren, all of them boys. We got a great chuckle out of that.

Todd called his parents in California next. His mother was a little distraught because she wanted a granddaughter as well and had heard about a procedure in Switzerland where they spin the sperm and it separates the females from the males. “But you didn’t get your sperm spun,” she said. Todd told her, “Don’t worry, Mom. I just held on to the ceiling fan and spun around a few times before getting started.”

After that was a call to Gab and Candy. You know, the couple Todd had been visiting before he came home. The couple he told we wouldn’t be having another baby. Talk about eating your words while they’re still hot!

Neither child is more special than the other. They’re both loved with the same depth and intensity. Taylor was a planned blessing. Katie, on the other hand, was just a blessing. And she is DADDY’S LITTLE GIRL!

Labels: babies, blog, joy, love, nostalgia

Mused by Jenster :: 9:24 AM :: 28 People musing:

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