Chapter 35 – Maggie
February
?Cuáles son tus planes para esta noche? (What are your plans for tonight?”)
Escuché que el nuevo club ya está abierto. Pensé en ir a echar un vistazo con Mia. (I heard the new club is open. I was thinking about checking that out with Mia.)
?Los veré a las dos allí a las once! (I’ll meet you two there at eleven!)
My co-instructor and new friend, Christina, gives me a quick nod and wave as we leave the Pilates studio where we’ve been teaching together in between my hospital shifts in the city.
I’ve been living in Madrid for two months now, working at Hospital de Solis y Cía while completing my training in their advanced robotics technology for X-rays.
With only three weeks left until I finish, I’ve made the most of my time here—immersing myself in the culture, teaching exercise classes to the locals, and picking up more of the Spanish language.
As I stroll along the cobblestone streets toward my host family’s casa, my phone buzzes with a reminder.
Six-Month Post-Transplant Follow-Up Bloodwork Due
“Ah, shit,” I mutter, changing course and heading straight to the hospital where I work instead.
Sure, the bloodwork could wait a little longer—my doctor back in the States won’t get the results for a few days anyway—but I’ve always taken my health seriously. Besides, I promised both my dad and Clay that I’d stay on top of things while living abroad.
I make my way into the hospital’s lab, waving at my favorite phlebotomist before plopping down in the chair.
“I’ve got some juicy veins for you today,” I joke, offering up my arm with a grin.
Maria smiles in response as she tugs on some rubber gloves and readies her equipment to make the draw.
“Ok, so the orders say we’re doing your post-transplant blood work today. How are you feeling overall?” she asks in Spanish as she cleans a vein on my right arm with the antiseptic wipe, pats it then plunges the needle into it effortlessly.
“I’ve been feeling pretty good. A little more tired and achy than usual, but that’s baseline for me with this condition.”
She nods as she twists off the first vial that’s now full of blood and screws a second in place. “Sounds like me every time I’m pregnant. I’m always super lethargic and achy during the first trimester.”
I laugh, but quickly catch myself, clamping my lips shut. My mind races to the last time I had a period and how I packed menstrual products when I moved here in December but haven’t used them once.
It had to have been... right before Christmas, that I had a period last.
“Whoa. Are you okay?” Maria asks, twisting off a third vial and swapping it for the fourth and final, which is already filling with my blood.
“I...” I stumble over my words.
This can’t be possible.
“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 multiple thousands.
Oh, I’m pregnant, 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’m terrified that 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.
This is a chance to nurture and love a child, to provide the care and relationship that I never fully experienced because my mom passed so young. It’s an opportunity to parent in a way that I imagine my mom might have, and to build a future that reflects the love and support I’ve always hoped for.
The rest of the evening is spent at the hospital in a blur of tests and scans as the highly skilled doctors in Spain check as much as they can for me being only nine weeks along.
By the time I’m discharged, I’ve got some cool sonograms of a gummy bear like baby, confirmation of a strong heartbeat, a growth scan that shows I’m measuring right on track, and a recommendation to follow-up with my OBGYN back in the states in three more weeks.
I’m still trying to wrap my head around everything as I step into my host family’s home in Madrid.
But before I even fully realize what I’m doing, my hands are already reaching for my empty suitcase, and I start packing.
The motions feel automatic—saying goodbye to my host parents, texting Christina that I won’t be meeting her and Mia at the club tonight, giving my notice at the hospital, and booking a flight back to Texas, all without a second thought.
I need to tell Clay.
I don’t know what this will mean for him.
For us.
But I know no matter what, he’s given me the greatest gift I could have ever imagined. Something I never thought would be a reality for me. I just desperately hope he sees the joy in this too.