What does it take?--Part 7

In mid July of 2009 I finally got to meet the perinatologist (high risk OB) and she reacted as most doctors usually react when they meet me. She asked me about my condition and how it's affected me personally. I told her how I was lucky enough to have recovered and unlucky enough to not have my daughter, and how we wanted to try again. She went on this long rant about how I was not treasuring my life enough and how I shouldn't gamble it away on another pregnancy. She kept talking to my husband about whether he was ready to raise a child on his own and since they would probably have to deliver early that it would probably end up being a special needs child. She didn't tell us anything we hadn't already read about or considered but having it thrown in our faces had me feeling distraught to say the least. We told her it wasn't a decision we had made lightly, we had considered the risks and consequences for nearly two years and that we felt that considering my particular statistics the chance of relapse was somewhere between 2-10%, that according to the cardiologists we had seen and consulted with (one being one of the leading cardiologists in the field) that my body should be able to take a full term pregnancy provided I continue doing exercise (as my body dictated); continue my low sodium, low fat, low cholesterol diet; and I am monitored very closely. She still seemed hesitant but told me that if our mind was set then we needed to get pregnant as soon as possible since I was so close to my 30th birthday, because once I hit 30 my chances of relapse go up as well as chances of other complications. We agreed with her, we told her that we were well aware of the time crunch and that was why we had gone to see her.
After I left I felt awful, I felt selfish and like maybe we had made the wrong decision. My husband held me while I cried and reassured me that everything will be fine. Then he asked me the one question that cemented our decision...what is the worst that could happen? My answer was simple as far as I was concerned:
Well, I know that I won't die, I can take this! Worst case scenario I end up relapsing, but since everyone is keeping a close eye on me I don't think I can get bad enough to where I would need a transplant. But our baby...I was not willing to consider the worst, worst case scenario...loosing him...b/c we were not going to settle for that again! But he could end up being born early...too early and that scares me. He could end up in the NICU and be special needs.
My hubs asked if we could handle a special needs kid, the answer again was plain to see...
Yes! We know a few little miracles that were born very early, and they all have grown to be very normal kids, yes they had rough starts, and their parents nearly lost their minds watching their little ones in the NICU but they all made it through and they all tell me that those tough times seem like such a long time ago and they are overshadowed by their kids' accomplishments and milestones.
We talked about that for a long time and he said "Ok, so we know we can deal with the worst case scenario, but what if we don't do it? You are completely recovered don't have to take any meds, and can lead a completely normal life, what if we don't do it?" I told him "Well, we'll always be wondering about the what ifs" he asked if we could deal with that, and we agreed that we could not, so with that our decision was made and we were not going back! We were going to start trying to conceive our second (and last) child.
And after two and a half of the longest years of my life, I had finally reached another milestone in my trip down Mommy Lane.

To be continued...