Oh Shit, Part II

(Watch later for part I, the indicent with the pinkish toilet paper.)

Remember that fatalistic attitude we were discussing? Well, it comes and goes. And it has returned.

I had a regular check up today and my pap smear last month came out abnormal, which has never happened before. My doctor assures me this could mean nothing -- or it could mean I have cervical cancer.

Worst case scenario (because I fatalistically asked for it): The second pap they did today also comes out abnormal, causing Doc to do a cervixoscopy (okay, it's not called that but it's some kind of -oscopy), and then the Doc finds something that seriously looks like cancer (he tells me if it only "might" be cancer, they won't do anything), and then he does a biopsy to make sure, putting my baby at a high risk for miscarriage, and then he finds out I do have cancer and then, WELL THE WHOLE POINT IS THAT IF I HAVE CANCER THEY HAVE TO KILL THE BABY TO SAVE ME.

...My sweet, tiny baby, whose heartbeat I just heard thump thump thumping beneath my belly today.

Listen, I don't care if I have cancer. I mean, I CARE in the way that one cares if one has a life-threatening disease. But I can handle it. I'll even make life a deal. I'll say bring it on, right after the baby is born. I just don't CARE about me having cancer in the way that I care that our baby be born healthy and okay. My dreams are pinned on this fuzzy fetus. Everything I want to do in life is make this baby with Husband and love it and watch it grow. I have never cared so much about anything or anyone.

What I'm trying to say is, Dear God, please don't make me choose between me and the baby, because the choice seems too easy.