In the beginning...

Okay, people...I've read blogs...never written one. I decided to start this one A) because a good friend suggested it, and B) it scares the bejeebies out of me to open up. And if you're scared of honesty, it means you need to do it.

So, I am going to start with the pertinent beginning (because I have many) but, I will always end with a "..." so it doesn't take hours to read my blog each day. So I got married when I was 30 (I'm now 38 and 1/2---the "1/2" is actually important) to my husband, Chris. I come from a HUGE family (10, I'm the 10th) and they all seem to have "powers" when it comes to procreation. To make it short, I have 55 nieces and nephews...and that doesn't include the grandnephews and grandnieces. Everyone seems to have no problem with getting pregnant. I, of course, assumed this would also be my fate: get married, get pregnant, have a huge family, live happily ever after. HA!

Well, because I was 30 I WAS worried about my biological clock, however, I thought, "I got 10 years. Get pregnant every 2 years...equals 5 babies. Lori, you're set. It's not 7 like you wanted, but hey...who can be choosey at this age?" Well, we got married in August and in December I was pregnant. Yes, the plan was in motion and it was looking good.

I had my daughter, Mari, the following August (2005) and the plan was to get pregnant by the next August-ish (I had to stick to my 2 yr/baby plan.). And I DID! It was awesome! It was like I could NOT have planned it better.

Well, to spare you details, there were "signs" and I started going to the doctor before the customary 8 week pregnancy check-up. They started investigating, sending me to the lab for blood draws, ultrasounds, etc. And it seemed like I was going in for more blood draws every other day, which were super-annoying because no one was really telling me anything, other than, "Oh your levels are down when they should be doubled..." blah blah blah. (Be sure to insert your best, know-it-all, doctor voice there.)

Anyway, it was about 6 weeks later and the doctor says, "Well, we're going to have to go in and do exploratory surgery. What are you doing this weekend?" Yes, he ACTUALLY said that. It's funny because I really don't think your weekend plans matter in a case like this. But I digress. So, plans for the weekend...surgery. He went in, the pregnancy was ectopic. If you don't know what that is, the fertilized egg was in my left Fallopian tube. (Those hurt too, by the way.) And if you let those go, your Fallopian tube WILL burst and, if not rushed to a hospital or ER, you WILL bleed out and die. So, my doctor found it, removed the tube, and, of course, removed the egg along with it.

I asked later what my chances were of getting pregnant, now that I only had one tube. He actually said that my chances of having ANOTHER ectopic pregnancy were now DOUBLED and that the "getting pregnant" part was probably just half now because only one ovary can now contribute an egg every other month.

It's definitely a shock to hear something like that, and it's certainly something I NEVER thought I'd hear. And, although it's difficult to describe how that felt, I can say all I really wanted to do was cry and I was really scared to try getting pregnant again. It would be like deliberately risking all chance of having more children.

...