Boston’s Finest “33”

It’s hard to believe that my wife is 33 weeks pregnant. To put it lightly, it’s been a journey. I find myself at times even taking it for granted.  I’ve forgotten about doctors appointments. I’ve forgotten how tough it can be for a woman to carry a child and the massive discomfort it can bring.  I’ve even forgotten that we are going to be a family of four before I know it. I always snap back pretty quickly and go from nonchalant to ultra paranoid and start worrying about every little issue, down to the decorations in the room being perfect.

As I documented in a previous post, Life Isn’t Fair… Anne had two miscarriages in less than a year.  We were down in the dumps and wondering why this was happening to us.  Little did we know at that time, that the worst part of the roller coaster ride hadn’t even occured yet.

After Anne’s D&C, the doctor sent off some tissue to pathology because to her naked eye something didn’t seem right. Part of the process after a miscarriage is to continually check Beta HCG levels (a hormone indicating there is a pregnancy).  The doctors want this level to reach an undetectable level of 5 or below. Anne’s started at approximately 20,000 and with each weekly blood test it would drop dramatically. Each time the call was made by a nurse to report the number, and during each call Anne would ask if the pathology results have come back yet.  She figured that as long as the nurse kept calling with the numbers, there was nothing too serious.  Well, the doctor finally called, and as it turned out, the second miscarriage was something called a molar pregnancy.  The chances of this type of pregnancy are 1%.  The OB stated that we would have to get to zero and then wait at least 6 months before trying again.  To us, this was devastating news.  The last thing we wanted to hear was that we would have to pause trying to grow our family.  We already had 2 large speed bumps and weren’t getting any younger.

So we were surprised 5 weeks after her D&C when her numbers went from closing into zero, at 18 – to jumping to 26.  The doctor thought there could be a couple things in play at that time but didn’t want to jump to any conclusions, so she said to just wait for the next blood test and go from there.  Anne was convinced that it was just a lab error.

The following week the blood results came back and her HCG levels were now in the 300s.  At that point it was time to start worrying.  A very small percentage of molar pregnancies can turn into cancer as the tissue generates and grows.  And now that is what we were facing.  The OB suggested to Anne that she have an ultrasound performed.  Anne put on her white coat and didn’t want to have to take a test that wouldn’t change anything.  So she pushed back as she would for one of her own patients.  Since the doctor agreed that the result of the test wouldn’t change anything, they mutually agreed to skip it.  Her OB also then referred her to a local oncologist and took the initiative to set up an appointment for us convenient to our home.

I remember my brain being in a fog.  To me, it felt like the two of us against the world.  I can only imagine what Anne was thinking.  She is one of the toughest women I know… but the odds of getting a molar are slim… and the odds of it turning into cancer are even smaller.  And it felt like if there was a chance that anything could go wrong… it did.

The oncologist was pretty straight forward 3 days later.  He presented the facts.  Based on the HCG levels now trending up, the indication was the molar had turned cancerous and was growing.  Action was needed immediately. There was to be an ultrasound and a whole body CAT scan. Then as soon as scheduling would allow, chemo treatment would begin. We asked if there was a chance that it could be anything else besides cancer and were assured that the numbers didn’t lie.

The good news, if there was any, was that this type of cancer is treatable with a 100 percent cure rate.  Anne would be able to continue to work and although there were some side effects, she should be able to live life fairly normally through the treatment. The bad news (besides “hey, you have the big C”) was that trying to expand our family would have to wait until 6 months after the chemo cycles completed to make sure the HCG levels mainatain at a zero level and everything is beat.  So now we were looking at possibly another year before we could even consider trying again.  I realize in the big picture to some this isn’t as important as your own health, but when you are focused on trying to have a baby… sometimes that is all you can think about.

So two days later, August 13th to be exact, we went to the scheduled ultrasound.  Our heads were hanging low, feeling beat down with the weight of the world on our shoulders, knowing that this visit was not going to be pleasant. I remember sitting in the waiting room and looking around wondering what everyone else was doing there.  Were they dealing with bad news like we were… or were they one of the lucky ones?

When Anne was called back for her room, I remember thinking that I would need to choose my words carefully. I needed to be 100 percent supportive and not say or do anything to upset my wife. So as she sat in the chair and started telling the tech (Sharon) why she was there, the tech starting doing her thing. Anne was visibly upset, and as the Sharon put jelly on the sensor, Anne was getting deeper into her story. Sharon then says, well the reason why your numbers are going up is because your pregnant. To which Anne responds with, “No No No, you don’t understand… the preganancy was a molar, which has turned into cancer….”

Sharon then says, “But you’re pregnant… see – there is the heartbeat.”  I leaped out of my chair and said “ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?” As I ran to get as close to the video monitor as I could. I didn’t believe it.  I couldn’t believe it. From doom and gloom just mere minutes before, to the most amazing news one could ever receive. To be honest, I am tearing up now as I type this because that day was filled with so much raw emotion. Anne was in disbelief as she placed her face in her hands.

There have been many times in my life when I wasn’t sure what to do.  This was one of them.  Do I run over and hug and kiss my wife?  Or do I run over and hug and kiss Sharon?  As we both tried to catch our breath, Sharon left to get the doctor.  Part of me still couldn’t believe what my ears were hearing. Not only was Anne pregnant, but there was a heartbeat.  The doctor came in as we were still wrapping our heads around what had just happened.  I can imagine the looks on our faces were similar to a 10 year old kid getting off of his first roller coaster. Because that was certainly what our emotions had been put through for a few weeks.

She too confirmed what our new best friend Sharon has told us minutes before.  And based on what she could see, Anne was roughly 6 weeks pregnant. Ironic that was the same age that we had lost the previous 2 pregnancies. So with cautious optimism we left the office. I could barely contain my emotions. If there is video footage from a parking lot on YouTube of a white guy dancing a ridiculous jig… that’s likely me.

Without a doubt for the rest of that day, I felt invincible. My life had been flipped upside down and then back rightside up. I wanted to tell everybody, but at the same time, I didn’t want to tell anybody. But here we are now months later. Expecting a little girl.

The Little Lady

While I would never want to go through the few weeks of hell that we did ever again, I am ecstatic we are where we are now.