Dad's Kidney Meets Growing Fetus

Finding out that I am pregnant was kind of an unexpected turn of events on what started out as an awesome day, but ended up kind of spiraling into a depressing one.

Two days before our two-year wedding anniversary, I took a pregnancy test.  This happened several hours after Ben and I had taken our first fly-fishing course and just a couple hours after we were rejected by yet another person selling a home we were hoping to buy.  This instance of rejection stung a bit more than the previous three rejections we'd already suffered.  Our realtor has this great talent of getting information out of other agents. So the seller's agent for the home we were looking to buy basically came right out and told us what numbers we would have had to offer to win the home from another prospective buyer.  With that information, we were armed and ready to submit the winning bid and be under contract that night.  We were counting down the minutes to the end of our housing search.

Not even 10 minutes after we told our agent to get started writing up the offer, she tells us that the sellers on the house didn't want to wait any longer.  Not even an hour or two.  They went ahead and accepted another buyers' offer, possibly knowing that we were willing to bid more money.  It was quite a blow to our confidence.  With all the other offers we had submitted, we felt like we were at a disadvantage. But with this was one,  we knew we could have won.  We had more money. We were willing to pay more money.  And we still couldn't come out on top. 

We sulked the rest of that night. We went to one of our favorite burger places and ate our feelings, massaging our hearts with milkshakes and french fries.  Then we walked around Alexandria, alternating between negative "WE'LL NEVER HAVE A HOME!" exclamations and feeble attempts at motivation and building hope.  "We just have to believe."  "The right home will come along."  "I believe I can fly."  "If you can dream it, you can achieve it."    

Later that night, we zoned out to Netflix and I thought, "I could really use a drink."  Why not just take shots, I figured.  I thought we might need to inject some fun and alcohol into that night to make us forget the pain of losing the dream house of the moment.  But something made me pause.  I remembered that for the past two weeks my boobs had been HURT-ING, like crazy. And they never hurt.  And then there was the one day in the previous week that I came home and took a two hour nap. And it felt SO good.  

Then I remembered typing this into my iPhone's notepad about 10 days earlier:

"Dear God:  I think...possibly suspect...that I could be pregnant.  What do you think about this God?"

So instead I went to the bathroom, and quietly took a pregnancy test.  I guess there were so many hormones in that one urine sample that it flashed "PREGNANT" almost immediately, like mid-pee. 

I know some people do a big thing to reveal their pregnancy to their loved ones.  But you know me better than that. I walked out of the bathroom holding the test stick. Ben was watching TV and I believe my exact words were:  "Soooo, I'm pregnant."  And I can't remember exactly what Ben said in response, but it was a combination of "Well, we knew that already... because of your boobs," and  "Yaaaay."  

Then we immediately called our families. They were all pretty surprised and happy.

~

I know I left you all hanging with my last biopsy post.  But I couldn't even open up a blank blog post without getting the urge to type "I'M PREGNANT!!!!" in all caps, up and down the page.  

But I'm hoping to bring some consistency back to this place, and give you all the information you may want to know about being a high-risk pregnancy and a pregnant person with a kidney transplant...who also happens to be a drug addict.  Sike. I'm only like...halfway kidding with that last part.  Drug addict is a strong phrase. More like, pill popper. There we go. That's more friendly and fun and cool.  

And when I remember, I'll pepper in pictures of my abdomen, ultrasound blobs, and other baby-related things.

Baby Blob

And hopefully, the baby will arrive on my birthday (Feb. 14), because how awesome right?  Let's see how difficult we can make Ben's life!  My birthday + Valentine's Day + kid's birthday.  I can see it now:  me and the kid run off to Disney World every year and leave Ben to tend house and do yard work.  And all we do is take selfies of how much fun we're having, and brag-plain about how we're so full from eating Mickey Mouse-ear ice cream all day.