Part 8: Renewed Hope

Her hair was up in a loose pony tail. Clothed in a flowered gown, blue robe, and tan slippers, the woman sat in the hospital bed, her husband in the chair beside her, and they waited. She stared out the window into the early morning darkness and admired the city lights. There was something peaceful about that time of day, while the city still sleeps. She took a deep breath, allowing divine peace to calm her in preparation for the upcoming surgery.

“Time to go,” the nurse said, peeking her head around the curtain that split the room in two.

The woman stepped out of bed and followed the nurse down the hall to the elevator. She wasn’t sure what to expect as this was not only her first surgery, but also her first ever hospital visit. They entered a triage area full of people on hospital beds separated by curtains and bustling with hospital staff. The woman was directed to her bed and she climbed in.

After answering a long list of questions for the nurses and anesthesiologists, she was wheeled into the operating room. It looked just like tv: white walls, lights everywhere, people with masks dressed in blue, IVs and monitors. The decisiveness and speed at which the operating room staff moved was like a well oiled machine.

“We’re going to give you some oxygen now, so just breathe deep,” one of the staff said as they placed a mask over the woman’s mouth and nose.

She took about three breaths.

The next thing she realized, she was in the recovery room listening to a nurse talk on the phone, “She’s awake and stable. Ready to come back upstairs.” An escort came by shortly thereafter to wheel the woman back up to her room. When she got back, she found her husband sitting in the bedside chair with his laptop. It was a familiar sight and it comforted her.

Maybe it was the drugs, maybe it was the free cranberry juice, or maybe it was the knowledge that her body was finally rid of the harmful tissue that had been plaguing her for the past month. Whatever it was, she felt so good—better than she had in weeks. She wouldn’t find out the results of the biopsy for another few days, but still, a renewed sense of hope filled her heart and she was grateful that this was all finally coming to an end.

Part 7: Mystery Unveiled

One thing the woman learned quickly when going to doctor appointments is that waiting rooms are accurately named. Nothing makes bad news worse than having to wait 1 ½ hours to hear more of it. Luckily, her husband was a geek who had a major work project due that week, so he had brought his laptop along that day. They sat in the waiting room devouring as much information as they could about molar pregnancies to pass the time.

Symptoms: nausea/vomiting—check, vaginal bleeding—check, “snowstorm” appearance on ultrasound—check

“At least these pieces of the puzzle are finally adding up,” she said to her husband. “We’re finally getting some real answers. And at least they think it’s a partial mole. The complete one sounds a whole lot scarier.”

They were finally called back to a room to speak with the surgical gynecologist who would be taking over the woman's care. The doctor was young, approachable, sensitive, knowledgeable...and female—everything that caused the woman to take an immediate liking to her. She educated the couple about the disorder. Inside the woman's uterus abnormal cells from the fertilized egg were producing tissue resembling a bunch of grapes. Due to the cancer-like, invasive nature of these types of cells, the doctor highly recommended an outpatient surgical procedure called a dilation and curettage, or D&C. This is where the contents of the uterus are suctioned out and the inside of the uterine wall is scraped in an effort to remove all of the abnormal cells. In all reality, there was not much discussion about alternatives. At 5:45 a.m. the next morning they were to report to the hospital admission desk.

Though much had taken place over the course of the whole day, to her it all seemed to be moving so fast. The woman didn’t have time to think through all of the risks of the disease she carried in her body or the procedure she was having the next morning. Three weeks of mystery had finally been unveiled, and there was no sense dragging it out any longer. She was glad that there was finally something she did not have to wait for—the surgery.  The surgery would be the first step to ending this horrible month-long nightmare.

Part 6: Snowstorm

His emotionless eyes said it all. The doctor glided the ultrasound wand over the woman’s belly as he gazed intently at the screen. Though she didn’t know what he saw, she knew what he didn’t see. There was no baby. If there were to be, this would have been the time for it to show up on the monitor and he would have said something right away. He would have smiled. Instead, his face was somber. It screamed amidst the silence: There is no baby.

If there is no baby, then what is it? How could I be feeling all these symptoms and there be no baby? she wondered.

Finally, the doctor spoke up. “I still don’t see a fetus. What I do see is a little more concerning. This ‘snowstorm’ appearance indicates to me something along the lines of what is called a hydatidiform mole or molar pregnancy, but we will need to get a clearer ultrasound taken to be sure.”

“Hide-a-didda-pole what?” she asked.

“Hydatidiform mole.  It is when there is a genetic abnormality starting at conception...”

The woman drowned out the rest of his explanation as her mind wandered off on a tangent. Abnormal. There was that word again. Since the beginning none of this had been normal. She had to wait three married years before getting the opportunity to start trying for pregnancy. She had started bleeding 6 weeks into her pregnancy and it still hadn’t stopped yet. They never saw anything normal on the ultrasound. Her miscarriage did not happen normally. The only normal thing about this whole experience is that everything was abnormal.

“…cancer…”

Did he just say something about cancer? she thought. Apparently certain forms of this disorder could turn into cancer. Great. Even better.

The next ultrasound couldn’t come soon enough. She knew the drill for these vaginal ultrasounds by now. Not pleasant by any means, but if it meant better answers, it was certainly worth it.

The ultrasound confirmed the doctor’s suspicion. “This is definitely a molar pregnancy,” he said. “It happens in about one of every thousand pregnancies.What I don’t know is what kind. There are two possible types: complete and partial. Based on the ultrasounds we’ve seen, I would suspect you’re suffering from a partial, which has fewer risks involved.”

"Just out of curiosity," the woman began, "how often do you see this here?" The medical institution where she was receiving her care was well-known. Perhaps this happens a lot here, she thought.

The doctor replied, "We see this maybe once a quarter."

Wow. I guess not very often.

He continued, "But this condition has been around long enough that we know exactly how to treat it."

He referred them to a surgical gynecologist who would be able to give them more details. They set up an appointment for early that afternoon and made their way over to the next waiting room.

Part 5: Nothing

Day one: nothing.

Day two: nothing.

Day three: nothing.

“It’s okay to go now, little one,” the woman said aloud to her stomach. “I understand. We will see you again someday.” With a quiver in her voice she sang the baby’s first and last lullaby:

Glory baby you slipped away as fast as we could say baby…baby.

You were growing, what happened dear?

You disappeared on us baby…baby.

Heaven will hold you before we do

Heaven will keep you safe until we’re home with you…

Until we’re home with you…

Week one: nothing.

The doctor said two weeks. I guess I’ll wait a little longer, the woman thought.

By this point she began experiencing more distinct pregnancy symptoms. Brushing her teeth in the morning became pointless because each time she finished up, the toothpaste would make her gag, initiating an instantaneous reaction. She was grateful the toilet was only two feet away. Her body also got into the “after work” rhythm, forcing her to run to the bathroom as soon as she pulled into the garage. One time driving home, it came a little early. Thankfully a cup from a fast food drink sat empty in one of her cup holders.

Week two: nothing.

I’m still bleeding so I’ll just wait a little bit longer, she thought to herself. Perhaps it will finally happen this week.

After three weeks of nothing, the woman was finally convinced that nothing was happening. “There must be something still in there if I keep experiencing this morning sickness,” she said to her husband. “Maybe we do have a baby after all.”

“I don’t know what else could explain all this,” the husband replied.

For the first time in five weeks she worked up the courage to go back to the pregnancy website tracker to see how far along she was: eleven weeks. According to the article, she would soon be out of her first trimester and the morning sickness would soon subside. She scheduled another appointment and a glimmer of hope stirred in the back of their minds.