Monthly Archives: August 2013

Septum Stuff


It’s a Wednesday. I don’t normally call my best friend on Wednesday’s; we usually chat on Friday night or the weekend. Both of our husbands work on Friday night, so it was typically easier for us to talk on Friday night after she put the baby down. However, I was having surgery the following week and wanted to let her know about it. When I called her she said, “Hey, how’s it going, I was just thinking about you.” “Oh really?” I said. She asked me what was up and I told her I just wanted to let her know that I was having surgery on the following Tuesday. I was going to have the septum in my uterus taken out so that it would hopefully prevent miscarriages. This surgery had been a long time coming. I had been to three reproductive endocrinologists, had countless bloodwork, x-rays, CT scans and ultrasounds done. The septum was spotted by my gynecologist and she recommended me to see a specialist. After many appointments and many copays, I finally found a doctor who would do the surgery. The septum is a birth defect. It’s not a bicornate uterus where the uterus has two “horns,” but the easiest way to describe it is that it looks heart shaped when you look at it.

After I told my best friend about the surgery, I asked why she said that she had been thinking about me. And then, the bomb. “Well, it’s kinda funny, you see. So, I’m pregnant.” Ouch. My entire body went cold. The pit in the bottom of my stomach grew and my entire body started to shake. It was like I had been dropped in ice water. I had to be excited for her. Of course I did. Her baby had just turned two a few months back. She wanted her babies to be three years apart. This news shouldn’t surprise me, in fact, I should have known. She and I said (several months ago), that we both wanted to be pregnant this summer. I had fulfilled my end of the deal by getting pregnant in May. I miscarried after only 6 weeks though. After that, we really hadn’t talked about getting pregnant together again. In that moment, I was so jealous. She was only five weeks pregnant. Barely pregnant. Newly pregnant. She didn’t have to worry about miscarrying. She and I both knew that this baby, this barely there bean, would become a baby that she would be holding in her baby in her arms. I could barely breathe.