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The Young & the Pregnant: Unexpected news at the Gyno

posted by ChickSpeak
Friday, January 8, 2010 at 11:57am CST

On December 22, 2009, I went to my ob-gyn to get a massive ovarian cyst checked out. Right before Thanksgiving I had gone in and it was five centimeters - only one centimeter away from supposedly collapsing my ovary.

So on that particular December day, I went in to either A) see if it had shrunk or B) schedule surgery to get it removed.

Fun, fun.

I was slightly apprehensive. I’d been oddly nauseous and my fear was that the cyst had gotten so big, it had started to mess with other organs…like my stomach or intestines or something. I’m not a doctor.

I had no idea what a giant cyst could do. Had I taken anatomy in high school, I’m sure I would have failed it. But that might be because high school sucked the fun out of everything anyway.

So there I was, legs in stirrups, ultrasound camera in my vagina (Sound comfortable? It’s not), when the technician asks me when my last period was.

September, I replied. Assuming I knew what the next question would be, I followed up with: But I took a pregnancy test in October and one in November, and they were both negative.

She continued to stare at the screen with the funny shaped black blobs on it that made up my uterus. “Hmmm…” she said. “Wait…when did you take your positive pregnancy tests?”

I figured she heard me wrong. “October and November,” I said.

“Hmm. Well judging from the size, you look like you’re about eight weeks along.”

There was a beat of silence, the kind of silence that lasts for years and seconds at the same time. A pregnant pause, if you’ll pardon the pun.

Silence…shock…and my head asking “um, what the &%*@?!”

“Wh…what’s eight weeks?” I asked, craning my head to see what I was sure to be a huge, huge mistake on the screen.

She looked at me a little funny. “The baby.” She pointed to an oval shaped gray blob in the middle of a slightly larger black blob. “That’s your baby right there. It’s even got a little heartbeat. Right there,” she pointed. “See it?”

Oh, I saw it all right. It was all I saw. I didn’t even have peripheral vision anymore. My entire world had come down to one, small computer screen. Not that I quite believed what I saw yet. The only thing that “seeing” the blob/baby did for me was eliminate my ability to form coherent sentences.

“There’s…can’t…but…no…what?” Eventually the words faded to a noise that was part laughter (the “you actually think I’m stupid enough to believe that?” kind), and part gasping for oxygen.

So I just stared. At a blob. That was a baby. My baby. In my uterus. Inside me. Right now. For the past eight weeks. It had a heartbeat.

Turns out the ultrasound tech did misunderstand me…and was fairly shocked herself that she had just delivered such big news in such an informal way. All she could say was, “I’m so sorry! I thought you knew!” All I could do was stare, wide eyed and open mouthed.

And after a few minutes of her apologizing, and me staring and making noises of disbelief, a sentence finally made its way to my lips:

”My mom is going to kill me.”

Turns out, she didn’t. Surprisingly (and luckily) both my parents actually took it better than I did. My mom asked the questions and got the information while I hyperventilated and my dad provided humor and hugs when I could find no happiness in the situation (he likes to call the baby Eggbert, much to my amusement).

Though I had wanted to wait, the father of the baby found out the next day. His reaction? He was like me at doctor’s office the previous day only with more crying. A whole lot more. Then he kind of walked around in a daze for a while and had to sit down frequently. Sharing the news with him was more emotionally taxing that getting it myself. I hate seeing men cry. Especially ones I love.

But that’s the thing about news like this…it literally knocks the wind out of you, and catching your breath gets a lot harder than it used to be.

But now, three weeks later, we’re both relatively shock free. The news has had some time to assimilate and though the emotional stuff is far from over, for now we’ve reached a plateau…which will surely spike once again when we relay the news to his parents. But that’s another story for another week.

Today…I’m 11 weeks down with 29 more to go (the due date is August 2, 2010) and I have yet to throw up. So all in all, a good day for me.

Until next week…

Lil’ Mama is an 18-year-old college freshman who has never gotten anything that she expected from life. She has recently become obsessed with Keeping Up With the Kardashians , loves sushi more than life itself and would buy one of everything in the Victoria’s Secret catalog if she had the money.

Editor’s note: The Young and the Pregnant is a new series for ChickSpeak. Follow Lil’ Mama as she discusses the ups and downs of being an 18-year-old expecting mother. Her articles will come out every Monday, as a new week of her pregnancy begins.