Searching for My Happy Ending

Today I would like to welcome Kathy from My Dishwasher's Possessed to TheNorthForty.  Kathy is a stay-at-home mother of three with a possessed dishwasher who sadly has had to work through four miscarriages.  As a mother who has suffered a miscarriage as well, this topic strongly resonates with me.  Here, Kathy shares exactly why you should never take your children for granted:

I still remember the bus ride to work the day I found out I was pregnant with our first child. We had just moved to Queens from Manhattan, and I was taking a commuter bus to my job as an assistant in a venture capital firm.

I spent the whole 45 minutes obsessing on the fact that we did not have life insurance out on my husband.

For the life of me, I will never understand why I was obsessed with this, but I couldn't stop myself.

Obviously it was time to take my fertility doctor up on her offer to refer me to a therapist familiar with infertility issues. It finally happened, I had slipped into the abyss.

I guess it was bound to happen. The past year and a half had been so stressful. We had gone through four miscarriages, several fertility tests, genetic testing and three attempts at assisted reproduction with drugs. We'd had it and decided to get off the baby roller coaster and concentrate on us for a while. We had started to research adoption. That's maybe why I was obsessing on the life insurance thing, I wanted to make sure we looked qualified for an adoption agency.

As I got closer to my office, I made the decision to take one more pregnancy test. I wasn't even really late, but I knew I would rest easier once I knew I was not pregnant. How could I be. We weren't "trying."

After all the ultrasounds, blood tests, and calls from my fertility specialist to tell me when to have sex with my husband, surely I couldn't get pregnant the good old-fashioned way?

Could I finally be getting my happy ending?

No, I wouldn't allow myself to think this way.

I had been devastated four times before. There was no way our story could end so neatly, I just wasn't that lucky. I need to stop torturing myself. It wasn't possible.

I totally need therapy, was the thought that kept going through my head as I picked up the familiar package and paid for it.
Once I got the negative test result I would call the doctor and find a therapist.

I got to my office and took the test by rote.

Shock is all I could feel as I saw the lines appear. My heart was beating so fast and there was a feeling in the pit of my stomach. Joy and dread all at the same time.

I quickly went to my desk and called my doctor.

"Come right in, we will take some blood," was the nurse's response.

I told my boss I had to go out for a minute and hailed a cab.

My mind went in 1 million directions. In the time it took the cab to drive the 20 blocks to my doctors office, I had gone through the possibility that this could finally be the miracle I was praying for.

I also knew that I could be taking one more step into hell and have to endure my fifth miscarriage.

Clutching the white pregnancy test in my hand, I walked into the doctor's Fifth Avenue office.

"That sure is a positive test," said my favorite nurse, beaming.
 
Dr. M. quickly popped her head into the room where I was having my blood taken. She said they would call me as soon as they got the levels, and we would go over a game plan.

The nurse whispered to me that Dr. M. always got a little mad when a patient got pregnant without her. We laughed and I went back to my office.

I wasn't able to get in touch with my husband, so I told nobody. I don't know how I got through the hours before I got the call.
"Yes, you are pregnant." The nurse's voice was almost as happy as mine. "The levels look great. The doctor wants to see you in a week, and of course call if you need us."

"...Okay..."

"...Kathy... are you alright?"

"I think so", we laughed and said our goodbyes.

I hung up the phone and was still in a state of shock. I couldn't help myself, I was thrilled out of my mind.

I tried my husband one more time.

Relief and joy flooded me when I finally heard his voice.

"I just went to see Dr. M."

"Is everything OK? Are you all right?"

"Yeah... I'm fine... Everything is really great."

My husband started to laugh. He knew what that meant.

"I had a feeling you might be pregnant. Your chest looks bigger"

We laughed, said our I love yous and hung up.

That was the start of the longest, scariest and happiest time in my life.

Two weeks before Christmas, my husband and I found ourselves in a hospital room staring at the most beautiful baby boy we had ever seen. He was two weeks past his due date and perfect.

It was the happy ending I wished for yet thought would never come.

Interested in writing a guest post for TheNorthForty?  Please check out my Guest Posting Policy and send submissions to tykesmom@the-north-forty.com.