Beginning in the Middle… because beginning at the beginning just didn’t happen.

Today is a day for rejoicing. Despite the craziness that ensued in our capital and Capitol last week, it was a week of good news in the Westlander household. Today, I am 13 weeks pregnant, and last week we had our first ultrasound that showed something that actually looked like a baby! 

The ultrasound took measurements that are predictors of possible chromosomal abnormalities and initial developmental anomalies. And those measurements came back at the lowest risk for said abnormalities and anomalies. Yay! 

Combine that info with blood test results (with close to 99% accuracy) we got a couple days ago revealing that we are low risk for chromosomal abnormalities (Down’s Syndrome, Trisomy 13, Trisomy 18, and a couple others), as well as the Democrats taking the senate (thank you, Georgia!), and you’ve got some serious celebrating going on here!

Dry celebrating. I had half a chocolate chip cookie and milk. And it was spectacular… especially the milk. I have been loving milk, lately.

I’ve been wanting to share about our pregnancy for weeks now, and I just hadn’t had the energy to write about it. Continued good news and seeing our little one wiggle around on the ultrasound has definitely given me a perk and the motivation to share.

But the real reason I’d like to write about this is to put out into the world our story of a high risk pregnancy. However it goes, wherever it ends, my hope is that anyone else with similar conditions might find some companionship in our journey, and that we might find some connection and comfort in sharing with you, too. 

Of course, I am starting to share on the cusp of entering my second trimester. So you already know the first trimester went mostly okay – fingers still crossed every day. But I’d like to share with you our story of fertility, or infertility, or whatever you want to call it, and actually getting pregnant. And I’d like to continue to share this journey as it evolves – all sharing subject to energy and life allowing for it, of course.

So I’ll start in the middle, with where we’re at, with what we know and what we’re facing. And we’ll go from there.

So, let’s begin with the present facts and risk factors:

1. Facts
   1. I’m pregnant. Holy f***ing s**t. We did not think that could happen.
   2. I’m 13 weeks pregnant. Still amazed every day that progress is happening.
   3. We now know (as of last week) that our little one is low risk for the major chromosomal abnormalities.
   4. The sex is female (and we’ll be using she/her until she/her has an opinion on gender)
   5. We currently refer to her as Little Foot, and I will continue to call her Little Foot in these posts.
2. Risk Factors
   1. Age: I’m 39 years old and will be 40 at the time of birth (hoping we make it that far). This puts me at increased risk for things I haven’t done much research on yet (except for the genetic ones)
   2. Congenital heart anomaly: My own heart anomaly (Tetralogy of Fallot, repaired in 1983) puts Little Foot at slightly increased risk for having a congenital heart anomaly of her own.
   3. Pulmonary valve insufficiency: I am presently in need of an artificial pulmonary valve. I was in the process of moving toward that procedure when I found out I’m pregnant. That is a story I will try to share with you soon. But for now, the procedure is on hold (it was not an emergency). However, there is a small chance I may need the procedure during the pregnancy.
   4. Unicornuate uterus: I have half a uterus – the right half. The left did not develop. This comes with a few risks of its own: early term or pre term labor due to my uterus just not being able to stretch enough, miscarriage due to lack of blood supply feeding the placenta (from my understanding, this is due to having only one artery connected to the uterus where there are normally two), and the need for a cesarean among them.

Really, it’s this last risk factor, the unicornuate uterus, that will be the one that keeps me up at night (us? probably not… Brian’s an amazing sleeper). Not currently, as Little Foot has yet to exceed 3” in size. But eventually, when I don’t know from one day to the next whether my body will continue to support her, I will probably worry. 

So, sharing this journey with you as best we can will help, I hope, with the continual practice of letting go of processes and outcomes we cannot control. 

And for today, let’s get back to rejoicing and to hoping – for Little Foot and our journey, for vaccines, for Georgia, for our nation.