I went to my first doctor’s appointment when I THOUGHT I was 13 weeks pregnant (based on the calculations from the clinic where I had my pregnancy confirmed). My doctor had concerns about my size. He told me I was either further along than I thought or that I had a tumor. He squeezed me in for an ultrasound the next morning where it was confirmed that I was actually NOT as far along as we estimated and that I also had a fibroid tumor.
My doctor told me the day before about another woman who had a very big fibroid. She delivered a healthy baby. He also told me that they are very rarely malignant, so not to worry about that.
The next morning, when the ultrasound tech was scanning me, she said, “Jeez. It’s taking up your entire abdominal cavity! You know, we had a woman last year with a big one.” I told her I knew about that woman and that she delivered just fine. The ultrasound tech said, “Yeah, I don’t know if they performed a hysterectomy when the baby was born or if they did it later.”
WOW. So, I was sitting in the waiting room to be called back to see my doctor again - completely torn. I was supposed to be happy, looking at ultrasound pictures from the first time I saw my baby. But, I kept hearing the word HYSTERECTOMY over and over and over. Is this going to be our only child? I am so thankful for this baby, but a hysterectomy? What if we lose this baby and that’s it?
That’s the day I decided I did not like that ultrasound tech and my judgment has held true based on the other time I’ve had to see her.
Thankfully, my doctor never mentioned hysterectomy. In fact, he said it might be possible that it would be removed while I was still pregnant (that decision would be left up to my high-risk doctor). He showed me what kind of fibroid I have. I snapped a picture of the diagram and started doing my research.
One of my best friends was at the appointment with me and said I needed to name the tumor - something harmless. So, I came up with Patsy. Patsy the Subserosal Pedunculated Fibroid Tumor, if you want to be fancy about it.
A few weeks later, I heard my doctor tell another doctor in the clinic that I looked like I was 28 weeks when I came in that first visit. (I was 11 weeks, 5 days.)
The day after my first ultrasound was my brother’s wedding. My mother had to sew in extra panels in my bridesmaid dress to make my big belly fit. I bought the dress months before I was pregnant and assured my future sister-in-law that I would still fit in it by March 20th. Boy was I wrong! Thankfully, my brother married a sweet, understanding woman. And the panels are barely noticeable in pictures. But, it took a lot of squeezing into spanx to make sure the dress fit, even with panels in it. We had to leave the wedding early, because of my fatigue but also I couldn’t wear those spanx one minute longer. (I’m not ashamed to say, I actually hid behind a plant on our way to change out of our wedding clothes so I could rip those spanx off. A week later, I could still feel those spanx squishing everything together.)
Because this is my first pregnancy, plus I’m not a tiny person, I had no clue whether my size was normal or not. I didn’t realize that most women can wear their regular clothes until they’re well into their second trimester. I was buying maternity clothes when I was 9/10 weeks pregnant. Before that first appointment, I was googling “12 week baby bump” to judge whether I was “normal” or not. I had no clue how “not normal” I was.
