The Safest Way to Wish Someone a Happy’s Mother’s Day

A few years ago I dreaded going out on Mother’s Day. Miscarriages will do that to you. People assume you’re a mother and then you break down crying and the well-wisher assumes all mothers are crazy and becomes sympathetic to Norman Bates.

Or maybe you’re like me years before that and have a boyfriend who takes forever to propose and when people wish you a “Happy Mother’s Day!” your response is “I’ll never have kids!”

Anyways…the point is there is only one safe way to wish someone a “Happy Mother’s Day!” And it happened to me a few years ago.

Other Person: You’re not a mother, are you? You don’t look old enough to have kids.

I looked plenty old enough to have kids, but still…Best words ever. Then he continued:

Other Person: Well, maybe next year I’ll wish you a Happy Mother’s Day.

Maybe.

Happy Mother’s Day to all you mothers out there! And if you’re not a mother yet, maybe next year will be your year. Besides you don’t look old enough to have kids anyway. Do you even have your driver’s license yet?

The Baby Likes Tricks, Not Treats

I get ultrasounds every 2 weeks. After suffering two miscarriages, each ultrasound makes me feel better about the baby growing stronger every day.

Except sometimes the ultrasounds show us scary stuff. Stuff that other people don’t see.

First, I had a subchorionic bleed. It finally went away.

Then the placenta was covering my cervix. It eventually moved.

But the 16-week ultrasound…that was the worst.

Specialist: Did you have some bleeding during this pregnancy?

Thoughtsy: Yes. Twice.

Specialist: There is blood in the baby’s intestines. It could mean the baby swallowed some of the blood. That’s pretty common, and it’s not a problem.

Or you and the baby have some type of infection. Or that the baby has cystic fibrosis. We’re going to run tests for all of that.

All of the infection tests came back clear, and my cystic fibrosis carrier test also came back clear.

As if that wasn’t enough, then he hit us with this….

Specialist: These cysts in the baby’s brain. It could mean the baby has Down Syndrome, but don’t worry about that because your baby’s nose is nice and pronounced, and your bloodwork came back great.

We suspect that this early in development, many babies have those cysts, but they clear up, so most people never see them. There is a very small chance that they won’t go away. Very small. Try not to worry about it. We’ll keep an eye on them.

 At the 18-week appointment…the cysts were still there.

At the 20-week appointment…still there.

At the 22-week appointment…nearly gone. Phew!

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “I’m of the personal opinion that you should always stay away from gingerbread house. Of all of the bread houses that exist in the world, they’re the least likely to have a soul.”—AbsentElemental

Don’t F*ck With the Babysitter

Back in December, my doctor’s office screwed up. They were supposed to test my progesterone levels, and instead they told me my blood type.  That was Doctor #1.

In June, they tested for blood disorders. While I was waiting for results, I found out I was pregnant, so I had more blood drawn.

When the doctor called to tell me congratulations, he asked, “So what are you doing about your blood disorder?”

Huh?

Because I really liked Doctor #2 (he was the only doctor willing to test for blood disorders), I overlooked this mistake.

Unfortunately, Doctor #2 no longer delivers babies, so I started seeing Doctors #3-7 at the same practice because you don’t know who will be on call when you deliver.

Doctor #3? Fine.

Then Doctor #4 asked if my insurance would cover cystic fibrosis carrier testing. It did. While I waited for my cystic fibrosis results, I visited my specialist for an ultrasound.

The specialist saw something on the ultrasound that could mean the baby had an infection or cystic fibrosis, so he wanted to take blood. And because I love needles and am quite fond of keeping my blood in my body, I said…

Me: Just test for infections. You can skip cystic fibrosis because my doctor’s office just took blood for that.

 That entire week I was a mess. It was the day after our wedding; I was supposed to go to Texas: I didn’t.

The specialist’s office called me 4 days later with the infections results: All clear.

It had been 6 days since the OB’s office drew my blood, so I called for my results.

Doctor’s Office: Your neural tube birth defects test came back fine.

Me: And my cystic fibrosis test?

Doctor’s Office: We didn’t test for that.

Me: Doctor #4 said you were going to.

Doctor’s Office: We can draw that at next month’s appointment.

Me: No. The specialist is concerned about something on the ultrasound; I’m not waiting 3 more weeks.

I will gut you like a fish!

Bitch, I will cut you.

Needless to say, I’m done with that office. I understand people make mistakes, but three times is too much for me.

Tomorrow I’m going to a completely different doctor’s office. Wish me luck!

Just Don’t Make Me Wear a Cape

Dear Professor Xavier,

Kiefer and I suffered two miscarriages last year. Desperate for answers, I went through a lot of pokes and pricks to figure out what was going on.

Finally…my insurance changed, and I was able to return to my favorite OB/GYN. He sent me for thyroid testing (all clear!) and then ran bloodwork for some common blood disorders.

And he found one.

Professor X (May I call you that?), I am a mutant.

When can I get my own action figure?

My mutation is called…I love the name…MTHFR. My doctor calls it the “Mother Factor.” Bor-ing.

I’m calling it the M*ther F*cker. Why? Because that’s what the acronym looks like…and it contributes to miscarriages, so that name is kind of literal. Plus…that sounds badass.

Basically, my body isn’t metabolizing Vitamin B like it should, and it leads to pregnancy complications like blood clotting. Step 1 is to try taking extra Vitamin B and some baby aspirin.

Sooooo…May I join the X-Men now? I know it’s not a mutant power that’s useful during a fight, but I’d still like a cool outfit.

Just think about it.

Your fellow mutant,

Thoughtsy

PS: Please do not make me wear a cape.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “Tell your mom if she’d raised you better you wouldn’t dress like such a whore.”—Robynbird

Will You Be My Doctor?

WANTED: An OB/GYN doctor. Sees patients on time. Doesn’t pass judgment on nontraditional pregnancies. Orders the correct bloodwork. Small hands preferred.

I’m searching for a new doctor because I’m tired of mine screwing up bloodwork.

My doctor wanted to test my progesterone levels, which have to be tested on Day 21 (during ovulation) of my cycle.

So on December’s Day 21, I had blood drawn. A nurse called with test results.

Nurse: Your pregnancy test came back negative, and your blood type is O negative.

Me: Uh…I know that. I thought my progesterone was being tested.

Nurse: Hmmmm…the doctor ordered blood typing. Did you have a Rhogam shot after your miscarriage? When you’re pregnant or miscarry, the hospital tests your blood type and they give you a shot so you don’t have problems with your pregnancies.

While I was pregnant, I read about this shot. But since Kiefer and I were both negative blood types, I didn’t need it. I knew that.

But when someone with some medical background says you’re supposed to get a shot so you don’t miscarry…and you’ve already miscarried…you start flippin’ the eff out.

And if you’re me, “flippin’ out” means tearing up while thoughts run through your mind that the miscarriage could have been prevented.

A couple hours later, the doctor called me back saying the nurse was “confused”; I didn’t need the shot, but I should come back next month on Day 21 for the progesterone testing.

More needles. Fantastic.

Right before my next blood draw, I ate a piece of chocolate to calm me down…yes, just one because I don’t really like chocolate anyways I have excellent self-control when it comes to sweets because only one piece was left.

“Discover how much your heart can hold” turned out to be a prophecy for my blood work saga.

So I was chocolate-pacified and ready to be stuck. Except the doctor forgot to write up the order. So I waited. And waited. And waited.

I waited in an office full of pregnant women and mothers with babies.

And I remembered why I was there…why I was having blood drawn…and I started to tear up. And then I remembered that needles freakin’ hurt, so I started to get upset at the anticipation of that.

Finally, they called my name…and it was the most painful blooddraw yet.

Lady, my veins aren’t deep! STOP DIGGING!

And I thought that was the limit that my heart could handle. I almost passed out. But I didn’t.

Unfortunately, the blood wasn’t drawn while I was ovulating, so I have to go again next month. And every month until my blood is drawn during that 2-day window when a woman ovulates.

I thought that was the limit that my heart could hold.

It could take months to have blood drawn on the right day. Why am I still doing this stupid testing? I’m single!

Really? A few pricks were upsetting me? What happened to the woman who was completely prepared to raise a child on her own if Kiefer didn’t propose? What the hell happened to 32 and the turboslut turkey baster method?

I’m gonna kick that needle’s pointy little tushie! See you on Day 21, biatch.

Turns out my heart can hold a bit more.

Favorite Comments From Last Post:

• “Asshat. x10.”—Blissful Britt
• “I’m sure he only pinched you to make sure you were ripe.”—Skipping Stones
• “Immaculate conception by leprechaun? The Bible kept that part quiet….”—Bevchen