Friday Flashback

Lisa (who doesn't blog) asked me the other day to remind her of Daniel's odyssey as she waits to find out if she's cooking up a babe of her own. I know this is written down somewhere but I can't find it. So, from between the holes in my swiss cheese memory, here goes.

In the fall of 2001, most minds were on the events of September 11. Mine was too, but I was distracted. We were dealing with a foot dragging law firm working on securing permanent residency during a period of practical non-movement in the workings of the INS. Our timing couldn't have been much worse. My father's health was deteriorating with Alzheimer's Disease, and I wasn't getting my period. Pregnancy tests were negative, and hormonally I wasn't menopausal so in late September a progesterone challenge test was ordered, to try and push my body into cooperation. Failed that test. INS moved along slowly. Another pregnancy test in early December, and oh! I was in fact pregnant! 10 weeks or so. Oops, all those hormones, uterus? Ne'er mind. Carry on. Things went along as they should. In late December my father developed pneumonia, and on January 4, 2002, the day before my 38th birthday, he died.

The foot dragging by the law firm, the precarious state of Homeland Security, and the INS limbo we found ourselves in gave me two options about attending his funeral. Go, and risk not being allowed back into the US afterwards, or stay home. It was my mother, in fact, who told me not to come. Funerals are for those left behind, and she knew I would be there in thought, if not in person. So I stayed here.

I had a doctor's appointment the week after dad's funeral, and Dr. Malcolm could find no heartbeat where there should have been an obvious one. Babe was also about 5 weeks smaller than he should have been. Since I hadn't miscarried on my own, and at 5 weeks waiting longer for it to happen naturally could have caused even more problems, a D&C was scheduled for the following week.

Life returned to as normal as it was going to get, and I made peace with the fact that we would be a family of 4. Daniel, however, had other ideas and made plans for his eventual return. A missed period and a pee stick in mid-July confirmed we were back on the roller-coaster. First appointment, yep, all is well. Babe is to size, levels of everything are exactly where they should be. Second appointment, in September, nothing. No baby on the ultrasound, no heartbeat, no period, no HcG, no pink line, no nothing. Okaaaaay. Doctor Malcolm sent me home. I wasn't pregnant, as far as he could tell, and I wasn't carrying another failed pregnancy because the HcG levels would still be up until I miscarried. But he said to come for my October appointment, see what kind of a curve I could throw him at that one. I guess I was disappointed, but not sad, at least not in the grieving, aching loss kind of way. August and September had been a bad joke, and I'd fallen for it.

So in October I went back. You've already seen the last 5 years' worth of pictures, so you know how this story ended. There he was, in all his butt flashing ultrasound glory. 16 weeks, just like he should have been. Two arms, two legs, a little dangley bit in the middle, and if he'd cooperated and turned around, I'm sure a big saucy grin on his face. "I'm baa-a-ack!" Where'd he go? Dunno. Dr. Malcolm was completely and totally unable to explain what had happened. Never before, and probably not since. I'm one for the medical journals, I guess. Maybe we'll make it into his memoirs.

The rest of the pregnancy was pretty much uneventful. My blood pressure rose (gee, can't imagine why *that* might be), I developed a crazy itchy case of PUPPPS and I ate just about anything that didn't try to eat me first. When Dr. Malcolm shared that he had booked a kayaking trip to Belize for the week Daniel was due we decided to take care of things beforehand. Who knows what kind of adventure we'd be in for if we'd left Daniel in charge of his birthday.

Oh, Lisa? Good luck. And wear your seatbelt.