“Could you add an extra test to this?”
She shrugs, unbothered by the request. The perks of public healthcare where everything is free. “Sure. What do you need me to add?”
I bite my lip, hesitating. This doesn’t feel real. It can’t be possible. This is a total waste of time and blood.
But still...
“Is it possible to not send the results to my provider back in the states? At least, not yet?”
Her brows arch slightly as she pops on the extra vial. “What are we testing for, Maggie?”
I exhale slowly. “HcG levels.”
Her eyes widen slightly as she detaches the last vial, removes the needle, and presses gauze against my arm before bandaging it up.
“I’ll take this straight to the lab. We can run that immediately here. Should be back in about twenty minutes.”
“Okay…” I murmur, already lost in my head.
Those twenty minutes feel like an eternity as I sit in the waiting area, replaying every possibility, every potential outcome. My heart pounds, and when Maria returns, a piece of paper clutched tightly in her hand, I know the results before she even sits down.
She slumps into the seat next to me, and I wonder how I could have missed the signs. How this could have happened. Her hand rests supportively on my leg.
“But… it’s not possible,” I state before she’s even shown me the results.
“Not possible because you haven’t been having sex… or?”
I stare at her, blankly processing the information. During my first semester of college, I’d been a nursing major before switching to X-ray tech school at a nearby institute. But it doesn’t take majoring in a medical field to know how sex and pregnancy happens, and we’d used condoms every single time.
Sure, I was aware that they sometimes have a failure rate, but the only time this could have happened was during the three days I was home for my graduation party, right before Christmas. We had been careful every time.
“I just had a kidney transplant,” I blurt out because it’s the first thing that drops into my mind.The risk of pregnancy so close to the surgery. “I’m pretty sure it can be dangerous to get pregnant too soon after one of those, right?”
Maria’s brow furrows as she scans her paperwork. Of course, they wouldn’t have a record of that procedure. My hospital records are all in the States, and she only has the orders for my post-transplant blood work. She might not have known when I’d had it done.
“Let me see if we can get you set-up in a room with a doctor…”
She stands, walks back behind her desk, and makes a few phone calls to various departments. I sit in shock the entire time, looking down at the paperwork with my blood work results that boast HcG levels in the multiplethousands.
Oh, I’mpregnant,pregnant.
A few minutes later, a nurse arrives to take me to a free room on the other end of the hospital. The entire time I walk to the room, I have an inner monologue with myself about what this means.
I’m having a baby.
The father is Clay.
The baby could be in danger.
I could be in danger.
I’m going to be a mom… maybe.
A sob lodges in my throat at the reality of my pregnancy. Sure, I’m scared of how Clay will react and whether I’ll be safe to carry it to term so soon after my transplant – ok, scared is putting it mildly, I’mterrifiedthat the joy I’m feeling right now may be ripped away from me soon. But, at the same time I’m thrilled.
In addition to lupus affecting multiple systems and organs, it can greatly affect a woman’s fertility. It was never guaranteed that I’d be able to conceive, let alone carry a pregnancy to term. Although I’m just discovering this and still unsure about the health of the baby and whether it’s safe for me to continue, I can’t shake the overwhelming sense that everything will turn out alright.
I’m going to be a mom.
