I finally heard back from my doctor yesterday, and it wasn't the great news of anemia I was hoping for. Not to worry, Internet, I'm not dying, and my baby isn't either, but I was diagnosed with mild dysplasia, which fortunately typically clears up on its own. "Nothing to get in a panic about," said the doctor. So naturally, this translated in my head to, "YOU HAVE CERVICAL CANCER AND YOU ARE GOING TO DIE," which incited panic, which brought on the daily hormonal breakdown, which caused my dear parents to worry sick about my state of mind. Don't worry Mom and Dad, I'm gonna be OK! However, mild dysplasia is scary for two reasons: first, pregnancy suppresses your immune system; and second, moderate and severe cases of dysplasia commonly lead to cervical cancer. AWESOME.
I haven't had a girl exam in many, many years, but every time I had one they always came back normal. I've always been healthy, tests always came back normal, and if there was ever anything wrong, it was never something that a simple change in diet or the like couldn't fix. As much as Cody and I struggle with the task of parenthood that lay ahead of us, and as much as it excites us (we are an emotional roller coaster, no?), we see God's hand at work in more ways than we even thought possible. If I didn't get pregnant, I never would have gone to the doctor for a checkup, because CLEARLY I'm perfectly healthy… and if I started to feel otherwise, maybe I would have gone. And that's a big maybe. And if I hadn't gone to the doctor, who knows whether the dysplasia would have ever reached a more advanced stage and resulted in a devastating diagnosis, when it was too late, when I finally got my stubborn behind to the doctor. At the risk of sounding melodramatic, and although we will never know it… my baby may have saved my life.
On that note, the only thing I have to do as a result of this diagnosis is a procedure called a colposcopy when I am about five months along, where the doctor will somehow look at my cervix through a microscope, the mental images of which are just not OK. I'm having flashbacks to my seventh grade biology class, where we had tables lined up with microscopes… Ew.