Waiting 5 years to conceive
I never intended for there to be five years in between my pregnancies. After Arianna was born, I had thought we would wait three years. Enough time for her to be out of diapers, speaking properly, and going to preschool.
There is a six year age gap between me and my little sister, and twelve years between my brother and I. Our experiences growing up, while all under the same roof, are completely different based on the age, energy level, and financial standings of our parents. Things that I was grounded for, my sister was merely spoken to about, and my brother - let off with an eye-roll. But it was the relationships we had with each other, that really helped me determine that I wanted my children closer in age.
The relationship that I had growing up with my sister wasn't a close, secret-telling, we're best friends thing. Instead it was comprised mostly of disagreements, as neither of us really understood the other. Whereas my sister had a similar relationship with our brother, my relationship with him was more of a maternal one. I always helped take care of him, like he was my living doll, and I loved showing him off to my friends.
In July 2013, I went for my yearly gynecological check-up. I wasn't worried at all. I'm a major advocator of preventative care, never missed an appointment, and never had a problem before. I planned to use the visit as a pre-conception appointment and I did. I asked tons of questions about conceiving, vitamins, and charting. I left confident, happy, and planning on trying to get pregnant that winter.
Two weeks later, I received a phone call that my test results were abnormal and that I would need to come in for a biopsy. I wasn't worried, just annoyed, at the inconvenience. I thought for sure somewhere along the line, my test got messed up or mixed up. But I agreed to do the biopsy anyway.
The end of August, I went in, put my feet in the stirrups, and stared at the archaic doctors tools that would be used. Seriously, they looked like something straight out of a horror movie. The biopsy itself was painful, but the recovery was only a day or two; and when it comes to my health I'd rather be safe than sorry.
After the biopsy, I kind of forgot about it. Arianna was starting her first year of preschool and I was entering into my long overdue final semester of college to get my teaching degree. So you can imagine my surprise when a few weeks later, I got a phone call that I needed to come in to discuss the biopsy results.
As it turned out I had severe high-risk pre-cancerous cells and would need a procedure to remove them. I was shocked but not rattled. I - incorrectly - thought I could have the procedure, get pregnant right after, and nothing would change. My doctor wanted to do the procedure right away, but eventually agreed to wait until I had some time off school in November.
The procedure was no big deal. I was sore for a bit, I recovered. The hard part of the whole thing was the disappointment that came afterwards. I had to go back to the doctor every three months for monitoring. If all the results came back normal, I would be cleared to be able to try and get pregnant in a year. But, if and when I did get pregnant, I would need frequent monitoring because the procedure could cause me to have an incompetent cervix. Which could make carrying to term extremely difficult.
I was lucky. The procedure worked and all my test results came back normal. I was cleared to try to conceive in the summer of 2014.
Of course, I was thrilled. But I was also a bit sad. I had already hoped to have another child at that time, a nice four years between the two. But now, all things perfect, there would be five years.
Not terrible, just hopefully not too much time that they can't be close.
There is a six year age gap between me and my little sister, and twelve years between my brother and I. Our experiences growing up, while all under the same roof, are completely different based on the age, energy level, and financial standings of our parents. Things that I was grounded for, my sister was merely spoken to about, and my brother - let off with an eye-roll. But it was the relationships we had with each other, that really helped me determine that I wanted my children closer in age.
The relationship that I had growing up with my sister wasn't a close, secret-telling, we're best friends thing. Instead it was comprised mostly of disagreements, as neither of us really understood the other. Whereas my sister had a similar relationship with our brother, my relationship with him was more of a maternal one. I always helped take care of him, like he was my living doll, and I loved showing him off to my friends.
In July 2013, I went for my yearly gynecological check-up. I wasn't worried at all. I'm a major advocator of preventative care, never missed an appointment, and never had a problem before. I planned to use the visit as a pre-conception appointment and I did. I asked tons of questions about conceiving, vitamins, and charting. I left confident, happy, and planning on trying to get pregnant that winter.
Two weeks later, I received a phone call that my test results were abnormal and that I would need to come in for a biopsy. I wasn't worried, just annoyed, at the inconvenience. I thought for sure somewhere along the line, my test got messed up or mixed up. But I agreed to do the biopsy anyway.
The end of August, I went in, put my feet in the stirrups, and stared at the archaic doctors tools that would be used. Seriously, they looked like something straight out of a horror movie. The biopsy itself was painful, but the recovery was only a day or two; and when it comes to my health I'd rather be safe than sorry.
After the biopsy, I kind of forgot about it. Arianna was starting her first year of preschool and I was entering into my long overdue final semester of college to get my teaching degree. So you can imagine my surprise when a few weeks later, I got a phone call that I needed to come in to discuss the biopsy results.
As it turned out I had severe high-risk pre-cancerous cells and would need a procedure to remove them. I was shocked but not rattled. I - incorrectly - thought I could have the procedure, get pregnant right after, and nothing would change. My doctor wanted to do the procedure right away, but eventually agreed to wait until I had some time off school in November.
The procedure was no big deal. I was sore for a bit, I recovered. The hard part of the whole thing was the disappointment that came afterwards. I had to go back to the doctor every three months for monitoring. If all the results came back normal, I would be cleared to be able to try and get pregnant in a year. But, if and when I did get pregnant, I would need frequent monitoring because the procedure could cause me to have an incompetent cervix. Which could make carrying to term extremely difficult.
I was lucky. The procedure worked and all my test results came back normal. I was cleared to try to conceive in the summer of 2014.
Of course, I was thrilled. But I was also a bit sad. I had already hoped to have another child at that time, a nice four years between the two. But now, all things perfect, there would be five years.
Not terrible, just hopefully not too much time that they can't be close.
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