No Regrets

This week is the week of a million doctor's appointments.  Okay, so it's not a million doctor's appointments. It's actually more like four plus two nerve-wracking procedures--all related to my high risk pregnancy.  It is a bit overwhelming and frightening at times.  Actually, it can be a whole lot frightening...most of the time.

Last night someone close to me asked me if I regretted getting pregnant, if I would change it if I could.  I thought my answer might be worth sharing, but please know that my answer is not every woman's answer.  Nor should it be.  I do not speak for every high risk pregnant woman.  I only speak for myself, and no one has the right to speak for me or for anyone else in my position,  nor the right to make choices for women like me. 

Do I regret getting pregnant?  Would I change it? 

No.

No, I do not regret this and I would not change it.  I wasn't supposed to be able to get pregnant.  I peed on six sticks before I finally believed it.  I peed on six sticks and then I wept.  I wept because I could not believe that the one wish I never dared even ask God for because I just knew it was impossible, the one wish I dared never even allow myself to hope for, had been granted. 

Two days later while standing by the waters of the battery in my favorite city, Charleston, SC, I told my husband.  And he was elated.  He was as happy as I was.  The joy on his face was priceless.  It made my heart sing.

We knew I was high risk from the beginning.  We didn't expect it to get this dangerous or be this bad, but we knew I was high risk.  We suspected it was worth it.  Terminating this pregnancy never entered our minds.

When I felt the baby move for the first time at 16 weeks I knew it was worth it.  I knew no matter what happened, this baby was worth everything to me.  Literally.  Even my life. 

And when my husband came home and I placed his hand across my still flat stomach and told him to wait for it, and then the baby kicked him and he felt our baby move....oh, yes, the look on his face was worth every minute of uncertainty and fear and doubt too.  His smile and laughter and joy that was also my joy....it was worth it.

And every night when he kisses my stomach and smiles, and speaks to our baby....that's worth it too.  And when our beautiful little girls giggle when I put their tiny little hands on my growing belly and they feel Ninja Baby kick...oh yes, that is so worth it.

Every kick, every flip, every roll, every hiccup, every tiny flutter this baby makes is worth all the fear and the discomfort and the six months I spent puking until I'd lost 10 pounds and the bazillion pints of blood doctors have drawn from my veins and every time I have had to hear a medical professional utter the words "medically necessary termination of pregnancy" or "life saving termination of pregnancy" (and it's even worth this horrible run on sentence to this editor).  It is worth the humiliation of fainting in the middle of my doctor's office. It is worth all the hospital stays. It is worth the nightmares. It is worth the tears.  It is worth it all, to me.

That's not to say I don't have moments during nearly every day when I'm angry that I can't have a "normal" pregnancy.  That's not to say I don't have moments when the fear is near paralyzing.  That is not to say I don't cry, sob, and rail against the universe.  That is not to say my husband doesn't have these days too. Of course I do.  Of course he does. We are not perfect, but we have a right to these feelings.

I am not a saint. I am not perfect.  I have a right to these emotions.  I have a right to feel the way I feel.  In fact, I even have the right to be self absorbed and all about myself and my family right now.  I really do.  Don't begrudge me these things.  Don't begrudge me the right to get annoyed  sometimes when you tell me it will all be okay.  It isn't that I don't appreciate your concern and platitudes, it's that sometimes I simply don't believe it will all be okay.

I believe it will be worth it.  Even if it's not okay. 

Today, though, today I think it will all be okay.  It has to be.  I have hope. My husband has hope. We have hope.  This baby is a miracle baby.  This pregnancy is a miracle pregnancy.  And my delivery...why shouldn't it be a miracle delivery too?