Well, here we are. 36 weeks and 3 days pregnant. Things are going well. Q is still very active, which I'm especially grateful for today (more on that later). I am at the point where I see my doctor weekly, and I'm very grateful for that, too. Though it does give me less time to compensate if I indulge my sweet tooth more than I should, lol! But I am glad to hear Q's heartbeat every week and get updates on my progress.
Speaking of updates, I'll give one now. Potential TMI warning, skip this paragraph if you don't want to know personal details. At my 35 week check last week, my ob/gyn told me I was around 1 cm dilated and starting to efface. At my 36 week check on Monday, I was around 1.5-2 cm dilated and 50% effaced. I didn't have a check at 35 weeks with M, but I did start dilating and effacing by 36 weeks with her. As I recall, I'm progressing faster with Q than I did with her, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything. Dilating and effacing can take weeks. Starting early means less to do when more active labor starts, but it doesn't mean that a birth day is imminent. Or it might. There is still no real way to know. Progressing faster is a good sign, but things could still stall out at any point. We will just have to wait and see. Q and my body are writing this story and neither of them have shared this plot point with me!
So basically, I'm progressing towards labor, but that doesn't necessarily give us a better idea of when he will come. It could be tomorrow, it could be in 3 more weeks. We just have to wait and see. Thankfully, J and I are almost done with most of the major jobs that need to be done for us to be ready for Q. We need to have our car seat installed. I highly recommend that everyone who has a car seat has it installed or checked by the local fire department, if yours offers that service. They are trained in how to get the best fit for your car, appointments are easy to make, there is almost always a trained firefighter at the stations, and it is free, so there is pretty much no excuse not to. We need to get the pack 'n' play out of storage, since it is going to serve as our primary changing station in our room for overnights. We need to wash and prep cloth diapers. Other than that, the rest is basic cleaning and housework. I want to stock the freezer a bit more, but we'll see if/when that happens.
I mentioned being extra grateful that Q is active today. That is because it was a year ago today that we found out that Puff's heart had stopped beating. In two days, it will be his second birthday, the anniversary of the day he was, as his tombstone says, "born into the arms of angels." It is an odd day for me. I have Q-related jobs that I need to do, but in some ways, it feels wrong to do them. It feels like today should be Puff's day alone. At the same time, I think he would be excited about his baby brother and would understand me dividing my time and energy. Heaven knows, I can't ignore M today, so how can I justify ignoring Q? I think today and Saturday are going to be about finding ways to honor my grief, to honor Puff, but also to honor M and Q and the rest of our family. Puff, Luke, and Bunny are a part of our family and I think about them every day. Today is no different, in that respect. It is different, though, because I'll take a bit more time out to listen to the windchimes, to cry if I need to, to remember the hope and joy each of our five babies have brought us. While I don't know if I'll ever understand why my babies aren't here with me, I can take comfort in the memories, even the sad ones. I am glad for the people I have been able to relate to, talk to, and maybe provide some comfort to in their times of loss. I will never be glad my babies are gone, but I can look for the blessings they left behind and do my best to make sure their lives are remembered through acts of kindness and by being a blessing to others.
Today, I purposefully slow my pace down this path. Today, I take time to stop and listen, to remember, to honor all the small lives with which J and I were entrusted. I take joy in feeling Q kick while I listen to his siblings' windchimes. I cry remembering one of the worst days of my life. I feel gratitude for all of my babies, for our friends and family who have stuck by us and supported us. And still, I keep walking. Closer to meeting Q, closer to the day when I'll hold all my babies in my arms. It is not an easy path, but it is mine and I cherish it.
Thursday, December 8, 2016
Thursday, November 17, 2016
Stretching My Limits
Y'all, life has been crazy. I think I write that in almost every blog post, lol! Life just seems to keep raising the bar! Mostly, I think I feel so busy because I am really stretched thin right now, in more ways than one.
The most obvious is that I am huge. I had a weird moment this morning when I was leaving the bathroom. I had turned sideways to the mirror and saw a side view of my stomach. I felt a mixed sense of awe and confusion. That can't be me! I turned to J. "I think I'm already bigger than I ever was with M and I'm only 33 +3." "Yeah, I think you are bigger, but that's ok. You are literally a house!" (That is a joke we have shared for a while, so he didn't get in trouble for it, lol! I laughed.) My stomach is quite literally stretched thin. I am not sure my body can accommodate getting much bigger, but of course, it will do what it needs to for Q.
Then there is work. There has been some drama and stress at work, mostly related to client's behaviors (I'm a Behavior Specialist working with kids who have diagnoses of developmental delays and/or intellectual disabilities) and the upcoming holidays. Holidays always screw with our billing, both in when things are due and in how much we get paid. I'm contracted, so if a client cancels or I miss a session, I lose those hours out of my paycheck. It also means no maternity leave, sort of. No sick/vacation time, so I can take as much or as little time as I can afford. I'm trying to get things sorted and set up for my maternity leave so that it is one less thing on my mind later on. So far, so good, but it is a lot.
And of course, there is life in general. There's the regular housework (laundry, dishes, sweeping, mopping, picking up, etc.) and there's all the extra stuff that needs to be done for company coming for Thanksgiving (mostly deeper cleaning and prepping the guest room). Then there's all the extra stuff that needs to be done for Q. Sorting out the guest room (which will eventually be his nursery), rearranging furniture in our room to make space for his changing table and co-sleeper, rearranging the living room to have space for our new, more nursing-friendly couch and the things Q will need in the living room, cleaning out M's room to make room for toys that need to be kept away from the baby, washing clothes and cloth diapers, getting rid of so much (seriously y'all...SO MUCH) extra stuff we have that we don't need...the list goes on. Some days, it feels like I'll never get it all done. I'm very thankful that we have family coming in to town for Thanksgiving who will help with some of the bigger tasks that I just can't manage and J can't do alone.
Then, there is a less obvious, but maybe more painful, stretching. I've let myself do some things to prepare for Q. I have ordered a new breast pump through our insurance (my old one is fine, but having a free spare is awesome). I have ordered some supplements I used while nursing M and other nursing supplies. I have packed my hospital bag, written a birth plan, and pre-registered with the hospital. I am starting to let myself believe that this will really happen. I have begun to set up the guest room for him, though it won't be his nursery for a while. I've started making lists of the things we still need to buy. This definitely stretches me. I do what I can when I feel like I can and when I can't, I don't. Duh, I know, but with my OCD-like tendencies, it can be hard for me to start something and then stop part-way through. I'm learning that I will wear myself out physically and emotionally if I keep pushing, though, so I think I am getting better about stopping when I need to. Simply thinking about a baby registry is a fight to hold on to the hope that he will get to use those things, to push back the thoughts of "that is a good thing to register for...another baby could use it if something happens." It is harder than I'd ever thought, balancing my OCD-like need to get things done, to make lists, and to cross things off of them with my need for space to get used to each little stretch, each push past the easier way of just ignoring or resting.
This pregnancy has been a fight. I feel battle-worn and weary. I wouldn't trade it for anything. I would fight a million times harder if I had to for my sweet boy, for my family. Through it all, there has been grace. J has stepped up to help out with housework. M has been fully on-board with helping us clean. Friends and family are helping out, too. When I've felt too stretched thin, I am trying to give myself the space to stop and rest, to read Scripture and pray, to vent to the loss support group I've joined on Facebook. Those ladies understand like few others do, as most of them are also pregnant (or have been pregnant) after a second trimester loss. This has been a fight, make no mistake about it. While the pregnancy itself has been uneventful, I have felt more weary and worn than I think I ever have, except after Puff's, Luke's, and Bunny's deaths. That was the battle of grief, a battle to find hope. This has been a battle to hang on to hope, to cling to it desperately, to walk toward a future that might just break me if it shatters like it has before with my eyes wide open to the dangers. It is so hard. It is so worth it.
I am letting myself get more used to the idea of and prepared for Q coming home with us. I know it will be more painful stretching once he is here. (What do you mean other people want to hold my baby???) So, I guess I'd better limber up for the road! Still waddling along, some days very slowly, but ever forward. Ever closer to holding my sweet boy in my arms. Now, I'm going to go rest...or maybe sweep. Let's not talk about the size of the dust bunnies in this house!
The most obvious is that I am huge. I had a weird moment this morning when I was leaving the bathroom. I had turned sideways to the mirror and saw a side view of my stomach. I felt a mixed sense of awe and confusion. That can't be me! I turned to J. "I think I'm already bigger than I ever was with M and I'm only 33 +3." "Yeah, I think you are bigger, but that's ok. You are literally a house!" (That is a joke we have shared for a while, so he didn't get in trouble for it, lol! I laughed.) My stomach is quite literally stretched thin. I am not sure my body can accommodate getting much bigger, but of course, it will do what it needs to for Q.
Then there is work. There has been some drama and stress at work, mostly related to client's behaviors (I'm a Behavior Specialist working with kids who have diagnoses of developmental delays and/or intellectual disabilities) and the upcoming holidays. Holidays always screw with our billing, both in when things are due and in how much we get paid. I'm contracted, so if a client cancels or I miss a session, I lose those hours out of my paycheck. It also means no maternity leave, sort of. No sick/vacation time, so I can take as much or as little time as I can afford. I'm trying to get things sorted and set up for my maternity leave so that it is one less thing on my mind later on. So far, so good, but it is a lot.
And of course, there is life in general. There's the regular housework (laundry, dishes, sweeping, mopping, picking up, etc.) and there's all the extra stuff that needs to be done for company coming for Thanksgiving (mostly deeper cleaning and prepping the guest room). Then there's all the extra stuff that needs to be done for Q. Sorting out the guest room (which will eventually be his nursery), rearranging furniture in our room to make space for his changing table and co-sleeper, rearranging the living room to have space for our new, more nursing-friendly couch and the things Q will need in the living room, cleaning out M's room to make room for toys that need to be kept away from the baby, washing clothes and cloth diapers, getting rid of so much (seriously y'all...SO MUCH) extra stuff we have that we don't need...the list goes on. Some days, it feels like I'll never get it all done. I'm very thankful that we have family coming in to town for Thanksgiving who will help with some of the bigger tasks that I just can't manage and J can't do alone.
Then, there is a less obvious, but maybe more painful, stretching. I've let myself do some things to prepare for Q. I have ordered a new breast pump through our insurance (my old one is fine, but having a free spare is awesome). I have ordered some supplements I used while nursing M and other nursing supplies. I have packed my hospital bag, written a birth plan, and pre-registered with the hospital. I am starting to let myself believe that this will really happen. I have begun to set up the guest room for him, though it won't be his nursery for a while. I've started making lists of the things we still need to buy. This definitely stretches me. I do what I can when I feel like I can and when I can't, I don't. Duh, I know, but with my OCD-like tendencies, it can be hard for me to start something and then stop part-way through. I'm learning that I will wear myself out physically and emotionally if I keep pushing, though, so I think I am getting better about stopping when I need to. Simply thinking about a baby registry is a fight to hold on to the hope that he will get to use those things, to push back the thoughts of "that is a good thing to register for...another baby could use it if something happens." It is harder than I'd ever thought, balancing my OCD-like need to get things done, to make lists, and to cross things off of them with my need for space to get used to each little stretch, each push past the easier way of just ignoring or resting.
This pregnancy has been a fight. I feel battle-worn and weary. I wouldn't trade it for anything. I would fight a million times harder if I had to for my sweet boy, for my family. Through it all, there has been grace. J has stepped up to help out with housework. M has been fully on-board with helping us clean. Friends and family are helping out, too. When I've felt too stretched thin, I am trying to give myself the space to stop and rest, to read Scripture and pray, to vent to the loss support group I've joined on Facebook. Those ladies understand like few others do, as most of them are also pregnant (or have been pregnant) after a second trimester loss. This has been a fight, make no mistake about it. While the pregnancy itself has been uneventful, I have felt more weary and worn than I think I ever have, except after Puff's, Luke's, and Bunny's deaths. That was the battle of grief, a battle to find hope. This has been a battle to hang on to hope, to cling to it desperately, to walk toward a future that might just break me if it shatters like it has before with my eyes wide open to the dangers. It is so hard. It is so worth it.
I am letting myself get more used to the idea of and prepared for Q coming home with us. I know it will be more painful stretching once he is here. (What do you mean other people want to hold my baby???) So, I guess I'd better limber up for the road! Still waddling along, some days very slowly, but ever forward. Ever closer to holding my sweet boy in my arms. Now, I'm going to go rest...or maybe sweep. Let's not talk about the size of the dust bunnies in this house!
Tuesday, October 25, 2016
30 Weeks - Sleep Deprived
Well, here we are...30 weeks. I'm not entirely sure why this feels like such a huge milestone to me, but it does. Maybe because I'm now 3/4 of the way through this pregnancy. Maybe it is because the count down is now into single digit weeks (9 weeks 6 days left until due date). Maybe because 30 sounds so much farther along than 29 for some reason. Probably all of the above.
Everything is fine. I lead with that when there is a story to tell that may have you worried. I'm fine. Q is fine. J and M are fine. Everything and everyone is fine. :) So now the update. Sunday after church, I noticed that I hadn't been feeling Q as much. I've mentioned how active he is, so that is rare. Even in the morning, he is usually pretty active. I got a little nervous, but he "woke up" around 3-4ish and started his usual levels of movement. So when I noticed that he wasn't moving as much Monday morning, I got a little concerned, but figured he'd wake up and be back at it around the same time. Except he didn't. 4:00 came, then 5:00. I got worried. I called my ob/gyn's office and spoke to a receptionist who I am sure meant well. She told me Q was probably asleep and that she could put me through to leave a message with a nurse, but that they might not get back to me until Tuesday morning. Seeing as I had an appointment scheduled with my ob/gyn Tuesday morning, it didn't make much sense to wait for a phone call that would likely come an hour or so before I'd see the doctor himself. J got home around 5:30 and Q still wasn't moving much. He'd half-heartedly respond to a poke with a lazy kick if anything. He barely responded to juice at all, same with me laying on my left side. All those are the go-to's for "waking up" baby. His movement was within the thresholds for "safe" but it was such a drastic change for him that I was worried.
When J got home, we decided to go to a local "ambulatory care center" (read: ER w/o a hospital) that is about 5 minutes away from our house. The staff there were nice and didn't make me feel silly for coming to get checked. They did a Doppler and got the heartbeat right away. His heart rate was healthy and well within normal ranges at 145-150. That got me feeling better. He is far enough along that even if this was an emergency, he could be delivered and have a near-100% chance of survival. At this point, his development is almost entirely weight gain and practicing daily bodily functions. They did an ultrasound, but I wasn't allowed to look at the screen and never did get to see any of the images. Everything looked fine, though, from what we heard and the tech let me know that his weight looked to be 3lbs 9 oz. (which would be around 2 weeks ahead, but weight in ultrasound can be very off). However, the doctor on staff wanted to call my ob/gyn to make sure they didn't want me to go in to the hospital for a non-stress test (NST). The ambulatory care center doesn't have fetal monitors, so they couldn't do one there. The on-call for my ob/gyn's practice felt that an NST was the only real way to ensure that Q was truly fine and not in distress. The ultrasound gives us a snapshot, but an NST is done over a longer time and can better monitor heart rate and movement. This meant heading off to the hospital's new labor and delivery ward.
M was with us at the ambulatory care center and she was amazing. We brought her Kindle, some toys, books, and snacks. She was well-behaved and sweet the entire time. We didn't want her to have to be at the hospital, since she probably wouldn't sleep and had school the next morning. So we called J's mom. She came over to our house bearing a Happy Meal for M and put her to bed after she ate. We are very grateful that she was able to come on such short notice. The ambulatory care staff called ahead, so L&D was expecting us. We got to go straight there and right in to a room. The nurse strapped me up to the monitors and before she could get all my info in the computer, she had to re-position one because Q kept wiggling out from underneath it. His heart rate was fine again and his movement was great. However, my blood pressure was higher than they wanted. So then, I got focused on making myself relax every time I felt the cuff go off (every 15 minutes...ugh) which only made my blood pressure higher. The first test for pre-eclampsia was negative, but they wanted to be sure, so blood work was ordered. The blood work came back fine and I was able to calm myself down, which brought my blood pressure back to within normal range. It was nice listening to Q's heartbeat for 4ish hours, though it was late when we got home. The funniest was when he got the hiccups and we could hear them over the monitor. I have been able to feel them for several weeks now, but this was new for J. We both shared a few smiles and laughs as he hiccuped on and off for around 15 minutes.
Honestly, the best part, and this may seem strange, was the staff. Our nurse was the nurse-in-training who cared for us all day the day Puff was born. We remembered her immediately and once we told her our story, she remembered us, too. We laughed and teared up a bit remembering that day. I made sure to tell her how much her kindness that day meant to us. She and her co-worker really made such a huge difference to us and left a lasting impact. She just had a baby of her own and has only been back at work 3 weeks, so she said it meant a lot to her to know that she was making an impact when she was away from her baby. It was like being cared for by a good friend, which was hugely comforting. The on-call doctor in L&D was the same doctor who delivered Puff, also. That may have something to do with why my blood pressure was higher when he was in the room...just a thought. He was also very nice and comforting, as he was that night with Puff, too. He told me that he was glad I came in and to always come in if I'm worried. They would rather have me in L&D on monitors for a few hours than anxious at home. He also told me that, given my history, I definitely get extra points in my "crazy allowance." He smiled as he said it and made sure I knew that he was joking...but also serious. He reminded me that any woman who has been in my shoes has the right to freak out now and then and that I should always feel free to come in to L&D, but not to bother going to the ambulatory care center.
So we were released around 1:30 am and drove home. J's mom headed back to her house, despite our insistence that she sleep in our guest room for the night. Later I saw that she had washed a bunch of the larger dishes in my sink. If you read this, thank you a ton! It was so helpful! So in bed a bit after 2:00, and back up at 6:00 to get J ready for work and M ready for school. I had an appointment scheduled with my ob/gyn for 9:20, so I went pretty much straight there. He wasn't very worried about my blood pressure readings from the night before, chalking it up to anxiety, especially since it got back down to normal last night and was normal at his office that morning. He did want to see me in one week instead of the usual two just to be safe. I'm ok with that! He wasn't happy with what the receptionist told me the day before, but his nurse was especially angry when I told her. "Of course we would have called you back yesterday! Reduced fetal movement is an emergency! She should know that. Next time, you don't bother with her, sweetie! You just tell her you want to talk to me or the other nurse and we'll call you right back. I'm so sorry!!" She was really upset! My ob/gyn said the reduced movement was likely because Q has shifted positions and sleeps more, though he also said I did the right thing by coming in. "Always get checked if you're worried!"
So the walk continues, though much slower today since we're all so tired. Early bedtimes for the whole family tonight. I may walk slower, but I walk a little more confidently. I am proud that I listened to my gut, even if Q ended up being fine. I am proud of J for standing with me and helping me decide to go, and for reinforcing that there is no cost too high for my piece of mind. I am glad for good interactions with hospital and office staff. And I'm mostly glad that Q is doing so well. 9 weeks and 6 days until due date, sweet boy!
Everything is fine. I lead with that when there is a story to tell that may have you worried. I'm fine. Q is fine. J and M are fine. Everything and everyone is fine. :) So now the update. Sunday after church, I noticed that I hadn't been feeling Q as much. I've mentioned how active he is, so that is rare. Even in the morning, he is usually pretty active. I got a little nervous, but he "woke up" around 3-4ish and started his usual levels of movement. So when I noticed that he wasn't moving as much Monday morning, I got a little concerned, but figured he'd wake up and be back at it around the same time. Except he didn't. 4:00 came, then 5:00. I got worried. I called my ob/gyn's office and spoke to a receptionist who I am sure meant well. She told me Q was probably asleep and that she could put me through to leave a message with a nurse, but that they might not get back to me until Tuesday morning. Seeing as I had an appointment scheduled with my ob/gyn Tuesday morning, it didn't make much sense to wait for a phone call that would likely come an hour or so before I'd see the doctor himself. J got home around 5:30 and Q still wasn't moving much. He'd half-heartedly respond to a poke with a lazy kick if anything. He barely responded to juice at all, same with me laying on my left side. All those are the go-to's for "waking up" baby. His movement was within the thresholds for "safe" but it was such a drastic change for him that I was worried.
When J got home, we decided to go to a local "ambulatory care center" (read: ER w/o a hospital) that is about 5 minutes away from our house. The staff there were nice and didn't make me feel silly for coming to get checked. They did a Doppler and got the heartbeat right away. His heart rate was healthy and well within normal ranges at 145-150. That got me feeling better. He is far enough along that even if this was an emergency, he could be delivered and have a near-100% chance of survival. At this point, his development is almost entirely weight gain and practicing daily bodily functions. They did an ultrasound, but I wasn't allowed to look at the screen and never did get to see any of the images. Everything looked fine, though, from what we heard and the tech let me know that his weight looked to be 3lbs 9 oz. (which would be around 2 weeks ahead, but weight in ultrasound can be very off). However, the doctor on staff wanted to call my ob/gyn to make sure they didn't want me to go in to the hospital for a non-stress test (NST). The ambulatory care center doesn't have fetal monitors, so they couldn't do one there. The on-call for my ob/gyn's practice felt that an NST was the only real way to ensure that Q was truly fine and not in distress. The ultrasound gives us a snapshot, but an NST is done over a longer time and can better monitor heart rate and movement. This meant heading off to the hospital's new labor and delivery ward.
M was with us at the ambulatory care center and she was amazing. We brought her Kindle, some toys, books, and snacks. She was well-behaved and sweet the entire time. We didn't want her to have to be at the hospital, since she probably wouldn't sleep and had school the next morning. So we called J's mom. She came over to our house bearing a Happy Meal for M and put her to bed after she ate. We are very grateful that she was able to come on such short notice. The ambulatory care staff called ahead, so L&D was expecting us. We got to go straight there and right in to a room. The nurse strapped me up to the monitors and before she could get all my info in the computer, she had to re-position one because Q kept wiggling out from underneath it. His heart rate was fine again and his movement was great. However, my blood pressure was higher than they wanted. So then, I got focused on making myself relax every time I felt the cuff go off (every 15 minutes...ugh) which only made my blood pressure higher. The first test for pre-eclampsia was negative, but they wanted to be sure, so blood work was ordered. The blood work came back fine and I was able to calm myself down, which brought my blood pressure back to within normal range. It was nice listening to Q's heartbeat for 4ish hours, though it was late when we got home. The funniest was when he got the hiccups and we could hear them over the monitor. I have been able to feel them for several weeks now, but this was new for J. We both shared a few smiles and laughs as he hiccuped on and off for around 15 minutes.
Honestly, the best part, and this may seem strange, was the staff. Our nurse was the nurse-in-training who cared for us all day the day Puff was born. We remembered her immediately and once we told her our story, she remembered us, too. We laughed and teared up a bit remembering that day. I made sure to tell her how much her kindness that day meant to us. She and her co-worker really made such a huge difference to us and left a lasting impact. She just had a baby of her own and has only been back at work 3 weeks, so she said it meant a lot to her to know that she was making an impact when she was away from her baby. It was like being cared for by a good friend, which was hugely comforting. The on-call doctor in L&D was the same doctor who delivered Puff, also. That may have something to do with why my blood pressure was higher when he was in the room...just a thought. He was also very nice and comforting, as he was that night with Puff, too. He told me that he was glad I came in and to always come in if I'm worried. They would rather have me in L&D on monitors for a few hours than anxious at home. He also told me that, given my history, I definitely get extra points in my "crazy allowance." He smiled as he said it and made sure I knew that he was joking...but also serious. He reminded me that any woman who has been in my shoes has the right to freak out now and then and that I should always feel free to come in to L&D, but not to bother going to the ambulatory care center.
So we were released around 1:30 am and drove home. J's mom headed back to her house, despite our insistence that she sleep in our guest room for the night. Later I saw that she had washed a bunch of the larger dishes in my sink. If you read this, thank you a ton! It was so helpful! So in bed a bit after 2:00, and back up at 6:00 to get J ready for work and M ready for school. I had an appointment scheduled with my ob/gyn for 9:20, so I went pretty much straight there. He wasn't very worried about my blood pressure readings from the night before, chalking it up to anxiety, especially since it got back down to normal last night and was normal at his office that morning. He did want to see me in one week instead of the usual two just to be safe. I'm ok with that! He wasn't happy with what the receptionist told me the day before, but his nurse was especially angry when I told her. "Of course we would have called you back yesterday! Reduced fetal movement is an emergency! She should know that. Next time, you don't bother with her, sweetie! You just tell her you want to talk to me or the other nurse and we'll call you right back. I'm so sorry!!" She was really upset! My ob/gyn said the reduced movement was likely because Q has shifted positions and sleeps more, though he also said I did the right thing by coming in. "Always get checked if you're worried!"
So the walk continues, though much slower today since we're all so tired. Early bedtimes for the whole family tonight. I may walk slower, but I walk a little more confidently. I am proud that I listened to my gut, even if Q ended up being fine. I am proud of J for standing with me and helping me decide to go, and for reinforcing that there is no cost too high for my piece of mind. I am glad for good interactions with hospital and office staff. And I'm mostly glad that Q is doing so well. 9 weeks and 6 days until due date, sweet boy!
Wednesday, October 19, 2016
Just the Pregnancy Talking
Ok, I'm going to preface this post. I am 29 weeks and 2 days pregnant and I am definitely big. I compared my 28 week "belly bump" picture with Q to my picture from the same time with M and geez. It is insane. I looked closer to my 34 week picture with her. We know Q was measuring at least 11 days ahead, but I don't really know for sure how big he is now. He may have slowed down some and let the weeks catch up some (which I doubt because of my size), he may hold steady at 11 days ahead, or he may have kept gaining days. But yes, I am huge. Yes, I am probably the same size now as some women when they go into labor, especially with their first child. Also, as I've mentioned before, Q is not only big, but he is active!
I am super grateful to be growing such a healthy, active boy. And if he stays healthy and active when he is born, that is fine with J and me! All the kicks are reassuring and knowing that he is ahead of schedule on his growth helps me feel more at ease, especially as his development becomes more and more about him gaining weight and size and less about him gaining necessary skills to survive in the outside world. I'm also kinda proud, because I haven't gained a ton of weight, despite how large I am.
End preface, start rant:: Y'all, having a large active baby can be darned uncomfortable! He kicks and rolls and pushes and I swear he is just going to "Alien" right out of my stomach one of these days and we still have 10+ weeks to go! It is daunting some days. My hips hurt, my abs (what is left of my abs anyway) hurt, though thankfully my back is ok. Sleeping is a challenge. Poor J has had to take over a lot of household tasks because I can't bend over well and getting up from sitting on our old sofa is a major challenge. I am super grateful and I wouldn't change it, but I have to be real. This pregnancy has been much more physically and emotionally draining than my pregnancy with M.
Also, we all know this, but strangers feel the need to comment on things that are none of their business. Yesterday, I had four...FOUR people comment on my size. Two asked if I'm having twins when they found out my due date isn't tomorrow. One neighbor called out "boy, you sure have that waddle going on" (REALLY???) and one asked "geez, is that baby ever going to come?" (nope, gonna cross my legs really tight and keep him there, because I enjoy being uncomfortable, sore, and subjected to comments from almost total strangers). One person was someone I just met not two minutes before he asked if I was having twins. Hadn't even told him I was pregnant. The other three are neighbors I've had conversations with, but I don't really *know* any of them well.
Y'all please. If you don't know if someone is pregnant, don't ever, ever, EVER ask. See this YouTube clip for the rule (sorry for the poor video quality). Brian Regan - When's That Baby Due? If you do know someone is pregnant, don't comment on her size and don't speculate about anything...gender, due date, multiples, etc. You don't know her story, you don't know what she's been through to get this baby. You don't know if she has had a loss and is experiencing gender disappointment. You don't know if she is having one of those days where she wonders if she'll make it to the due date this time and actually get to take her baby home in a car seat. You don't know if she struggled to conceive or had multiples but one died, so your off-handed remark about twins hits a sore spot. I'm assuming that, if you do know these things for sure, you know to keep your comments to yourself.
I am so proud of my big belly and my active son. For some reason, though, four people I barely know commenting in one day made me feel a little less bright, a little less happy, a little less proud. It was frustrating. The feeling was fleeting each time, don't worry. My doctor is happy with my growth and Q's. Both my ob/gyn and several MFMs have told me that Q's size is a good indicator of health. I know I'm pregnant. I know I'm big. I don't need comments to make me aware of those things. Part of me wanted to get either very sarcastic or very real with these people. "You try walking the dog with a baby this big growing off your front. It hurts sometimes, so waddle or not, I'm glad I can be active and do what is best for my baby and me." "No, it isn't twins, though what a blessing that would be, especially after we had three babies die in the pregnancies before this one." "Yes, he will be born eventually, but hopefully not stillborn early like his brother. Thankfully, we've passed the point of miscarriage like his other brother and one sister, but we know too well that we are never out of the woods. So we're hoping he comes happy and healthy as close to his due date as possible." I didn't say any of those things, though. I tried to be kind, though my frustration may have been obvious (I'm ok with that...). "No, it isn't twins. One boy, but he is measuring ahead and we are thankful he is healthy." "Yes, he'll be here when the time is right." The waddle comment just got a semi-forced laugh and a wave. Maybe one time, I'll snap and either cry or unload every ounce of stress from this pregnancy after loss. I hope not, because that poor person won't deserve it, not really. These people didn't deserve the answers my sarcastic nature and pregnancy hormones wanted to give, so I held it in. I'm glad I did, though others may disagree.
I'm asking you, dear reader...please consider your words before you speak them. If you wouldn't say them to a loved one who has had a loss, to someone who is sensitive, then just don't say them. There are plenty of things to say. "Congratulations!" "How wonderful!" "I'm so happy for you!" "If there's anything you need, let me know!" "How are you feeling?" "You look beautiful/glowing/healthy/happy." Other comments may not be as funny/helpful as you think and may in fact be quite hurtful.
End Rant:: So here I am, waddling down this road with my huge belly. Large, proud, and making it. Day by day, waddling step by waddling step, lol. Doing my best to keep my sarcasm directed at those who earn it and can handle it and my pregnancy hormones from making me even more insane than I already am. 10 weeks and 5 days left until due date, little man. Hang in there, not much time left before we meet face-to-face!
I am super grateful to be growing such a healthy, active boy. And if he stays healthy and active when he is born, that is fine with J and me! All the kicks are reassuring and knowing that he is ahead of schedule on his growth helps me feel more at ease, especially as his development becomes more and more about him gaining weight and size and less about him gaining necessary skills to survive in the outside world. I'm also kinda proud, because I haven't gained a ton of weight, despite how large I am.
End preface, start rant:: Y'all, having a large active baby can be darned uncomfortable! He kicks and rolls and pushes and I swear he is just going to "Alien" right out of my stomach one of these days and we still have 10+ weeks to go! It is daunting some days. My hips hurt, my abs (what is left of my abs anyway) hurt, though thankfully my back is ok. Sleeping is a challenge. Poor J has had to take over a lot of household tasks because I can't bend over well and getting up from sitting on our old sofa is a major challenge. I am super grateful and I wouldn't change it, but I have to be real. This pregnancy has been much more physically and emotionally draining than my pregnancy with M.
Also, we all know this, but strangers feel the need to comment on things that are none of their business. Yesterday, I had four...FOUR people comment on my size. Two asked if I'm having twins when they found out my due date isn't tomorrow. One neighbor called out "boy, you sure have that waddle going on" (REALLY???) and one asked "geez, is that baby ever going to come?" (nope, gonna cross my legs really tight and keep him there, because I enjoy being uncomfortable, sore, and subjected to comments from almost total strangers). One person was someone I just met not two minutes before he asked if I was having twins. Hadn't even told him I was pregnant. The other three are neighbors I've had conversations with, but I don't really *know* any of them well.
Y'all please. If you don't know if someone is pregnant, don't ever, ever, EVER ask. See this YouTube clip for the rule (sorry for the poor video quality). Brian Regan - When's That Baby Due? If you do know someone is pregnant, don't comment on her size and don't speculate about anything...gender, due date, multiples, etc. You don't know her story, you don't know what she's been through to get this baby. You don't know if she has had a loss and is experiencing gender disappointment. You don't know if she is having one of those days where she wonders if she'll make it to the due date this time and actually get to take her baby home in a car seat. You don't know if she struggled to conceive or had multiples but one died, so your off-handed remark about twins hits a sore spot. I'm assuming that, if you do know these things for sure, you know to keep your comments to yourself.
I am so proud of my big belly and my active son. For some reason, though, four people I barely know commenting in one day made me feel a little less bright, a little less happy, a little less proud. It was frustrating. The feeling was fleeting each time, don't worry. My doctor is happy with my growth and Q's. Both my ob/gyn and several MFMs have told me that Q's size is a good indicator of health. I know I'm pregnant. I know I'm big. I don't need comments to make me aware of those things. Part of me wanted to get either very sarcastic or very real with these people. "You try walking the dog with a baby this big growing off your front. It hurts sometimes, so waddle or not, I'm glad I can be active and do what is best for my baby and me." "No, it isn't twins, though what a blessing that would be, especially after we had three babies die in the pregnancies before this one." "Yes, he will be born eventually, but hopefully not stillborn early like his brother. Thankfully, we've passed the point of miscarriage like his other brother and one sister, but we know too well that we are never out of the woods. So we're hoping he comes happy and healthy as close to his due date as possible." I didn't say any of those things, though. I tried to be kind, though my frustration may have been obvious (I'm ok with that...). "No, it isn't twins. One boy, but he is measuring ahead and we are thankful he is healthy." "Yes, he'll be here when the time is right." The waddle comment just got a semi-forced laugh and a wave. Maybe one time, I'll snap and either cry or unload every ounce of stress from this pregnancy after loss. I hope not, because that poor person won't deserve it, not really. These people didn't deserve the answers my sarcastic nature and pregnancy hormones wanted to give, so I held it in. I'm glad I did, though others may disagree.
I'm asking you, dear reader...please consider your words before you speak them. If you wouldn't say them to a loved one who has had a loss, to someone who is sensitive, then just don't say them. There are plenty of things to say. "Congratulations!" "How wonderful!" "I'm so happy for you!" "If there's anything you need, let me know!" "How are you feeling?" "You look beautiful/glowing/healthy/happy." Other comments may not be as funny/helpful as you think and may in fact be quite hurtful.
End Rant:: So here I am, waddling down this road with my huge belly. Large, proud, and making it. Day by day, waddling step by waddling step, lol. Doing my best to keep my sarcasm directed at those who earn it and can handle it and my pregnancy hormones from making me even more insane than I already am. 10 weeks and 5 days left until due date, little man. Hang in there, not much time left before we meet face-to-face!
Friday, September 30, 2016
24 and 26 Weeks
Well, preggo brain has run rampant this pregnancy and I haven't been as consistent as I'd wanted to be about keeping up with posts. I'm trying to be easy with myself, though. This pregnancy in and of itself has been stressful, plus family, work, housework, and finishing up on-line coursework for a certificate for work. Whew! The coursework is done and I'm very relieved to have it finished before Q comes!
So updates! I saw the MFM (high risk doctor) at 24 weeks (9/12) for another ultrasound. This was the follow-up to the gender scan, which was ordered so they could get a better look at Q's heart since he was turned on his side during the gender scan. Not only does his heart look great, it looks so good the doctor asked if he could use some of the ultrasound pictures in his lectures! My blood pressure was lower, which was great news. And apparently Q is an over-achiever! I was 24 weeks exactly at the scan, but he measured 25 weeks 4 days, so 11 days ahead. That means he gained 5 extra days in the 5 weeks since the gender scan. Go figure! The ultrasound tech saw his measurements and asked if I'd had my blood glucose test yet. My ob/gyn ordered it at 22 weeks, so I had and knew the results. I told her I had and that my results were within normal limits, though I thought they were maybe on the high side. Gestational diabetes can result in larger babies, but my test results indicate that I don't have it. She said that my ob/gyn may want to re-run the test later to be sure it doesn't develop later on. For now, though, no pre-eclampsia, no gestational diabetes, and a big, healthy baby with a perfect heart. Couldn't have been a better appointment!
I then saw my ob/gyn at 26 weeks (9/26). He measured me and confirmed that I'm bigger than usual for my gestation, which confirms that Q is measuring big. He said my glucose results weren't even on the high side of normal, they were just straight up normal and he didn't mention wanting to re-run the test. Yay!!! My blood pressure was lower again, so still no pre-eclampsia! This also means no need to induce Q early. The doctor said he can't/won't induce before 39 weeks for size alone, so we are looking good for natural childbirth. If my blood pressure spikes up later on in the pregnancy, we may need to induce as early as 37-38 weeks. I wouldn't mind if Q comes early for various reasons, but I'd much rather he comes on his own when he is ready. We'll see what happens!
Personally, J and I are starting to look at prenatal classes. We've enrolled M in a "Big Brother, Big Sister" class our hospital offers and she is very excited. I don't think we're going to take any classes this time around...maybe, but I doubt it. We are hoping to schedule a tour of the maternity ward soon. I'm starting to think about writing out our birth plan, making a list of what to pack in the hospital bag, and pre-registering with the hospital (saved us so much time with M). I'm slowly but surely getting projects done around the house, though there is still a LOT left to do. We'll have family in town around Thanksgiving and I know they'll be up to the challenge of helping us finish out projects that need doing. I'm trying to get a jump on Christmas shopping so I can have it all done just in case he comes before Christmas. My mother has already volunteered to help with gift wrapping, which is a huge help! Lots of preparations, but we still have 13ish weeks left.
This is a fun place to be on the road, for the most part. It is starting to become more real, though hope is still not a solid, assured thing. I'm letting myself prepare more, believe more. I feel like the pace has picked up, though I'm not going any faster (time has a funny way of acting like that sometimes). There is always time to stop and remember, though. Always time for Puff, Luke, and Bunny. They are always with me and always will be, a huge part of what carries me down the road and keeps me walking ever forward towards meeting Q.
So updates! I saw the MFM (high risk doctor) at 24 weeks (9/12) for another ultrasound. This was the follow-up to the gender scan, which was ordered so they could get a better look at Q's heart since he was turned on his side during the gender scan. Not only does his heart look great, it looks so good the doctor asked if he could use some of the ultrasound pictures in his lectures! My blood pressure was lower, which was great news. And apparently Q is an over-achiever! I was 24 weeks exactly at the scan, but he measured 25 weeks 4 days, so 11 days ahead. That means he gained 5 extra days in the 5 weeks since the gender scan. Go figure! The ultrasound tech saw his measurements and asked if I'd had my blood glucose test yet. My ob/gyn ordered it at 22 weeks, so I had and knew the results. I told her I had and that my results were within normal limits, though I thought they were maybe on the high side. Gestational diabetes can result in larger babies, but my test results indicate that I don't have it. She said that my ob/gyn may want to re-run the test later to be sure it doesn't develop later on. For now, though, no pre-eclampsia, no gestational diabetes, and a big, healthy baby with a perfect heart. Couldn't have been a better appointment!
I then saw my ob/gyn at 26 weeks (9/26). He measured me and confirmed that I'm bigger than usual for my gestation, which confirms that Q is measuring big. He said my glucose results weren't even on the high side of normal, they were just straight up normal and he didn't mention wanting to re-run the test. Yay!!! My blood pressure was lower again, so still no pre-eclampsia! This also means no need to induce Q early. The doctor said he can't/won't induce before 39 weeks for size alone, so we are looking good for natural childbirth. If my blood pressure spikes up later on in the pregnancy, we may need to induce as early as 37-38 weeks. I wouldn't mind if Q comes early for various reasons, but I'd much rather he comes on his own when he is ready. We'll see what happens!
Personally, J and I are starting to look at prenatal classes. We've enrolled M in a "Big Brother, Big Sister" class our hospital offers and she is very excited. I don't think we're going to take any classes this time around...maybe, but I doubt it. We are hoping to schedule a tour of the maternity ward soon. I'm starting to think about writing out our birth plan, making a list of what to pack in the hospital bag, and pre-registering with the hospital (saved us so much time with M). I'm slowly but surely getting projects done around the house, though there is still a LOT left to do. We'll have family in town around Thanksgiving and I know they'll be up to the challenge of helping us finish out projects that need doing. I'm trying to get a jump on Christmas shopping so I can have it all done just in case he comes before Christmas. My mother has already volunteered to help with gift wrapping, which is a huge help! Lots of preparations, but we still have 13ish weeks left.
This is a fun place to be on the road, for the most part. It is starting to become more real, though hope is still not a solid, assured thing. I'm letting myself prepare more, believe more. I feel like the pace has picked up, though I'm not going any faster (time has a funny way of acting like that sometimes). There is always time to stop and remember, though. Always time for Puff, Luke, and Bunny. They are always with me and always will be, a huge part of what carries me down the road and keeps me walking ever forward towards meeting Q.
Wednesday, September 28, 2016
Deep Breaths
I'm just past 26 weeks pregnant. I've imagined and dreamed about this phase of pregnancy, where I'd only ever been once before with M. Q is now and has been for 6 weeks, older than Puff when he died. Passing Luke's and Bunny's milestones was relieving, but they were so soon (6 and 8 weeks respectively), that it wasn't as much of a relief as I'd thought. I was still in the dangerous 1st trimester, though having had a 2nd trimester loss and knowing too many people with 3rd trimester losses, I know that there is no "safe point" in a pregnancy all too well.
Honestly, some people may expect that I'll relax more now. Q is past the point where Puff died. Surely that is a huge relief. Puff's death was a fluke. I know all that and it is a relief. I am more relaxed this pregnancy that a lot of the women I know who are going through or have gone through pregnancies after loss (commonly abbreviated PAL). I am a member of an on-line support group on Facebook for women who are pregnant after a second trimester loss, so I do have some frame of reference for how I'm doing. Overall, I think I'm doing well. I am not fully relaxed. There are still rough days where anxiety threatens to get the best of me. I still qualify statements in my mind. The baby is doing well "for now." We are very excited "and hope nothing goes wrong." We should sign up for a tour of the maternity ward since the hospital opened a new one since Puff was born "and I hope we don't have the crying heart on our door this time." The support group has helped me see that this is totally normal. Pretty much all of us ladies in the group feel that way and most, if not all, of the ladies who have gone on to have healthy happy babies felt that way until they held their babies and even beyond. As I've said before, though maybe not on this blog, "there ain't no paranoia like loss mom paranoia." It just seeps in to you.
That isn't to say that I'm not joyful and hopeful. I've simply learned that hope doesn't always look like I used to think. Hope isn't a blind determination that everything will be ok. Hope is continuing to walk the path even though you know it might not be ok, even though it hasn't been ok in the past. Hope is taking steps forward, looking past the anxiety, even when you want to give up. Hope is sometimes sitting down in the road, taking a break and letting the tears flow before getting up to take the next step. I've stayed on the road. I have hope. Trust me, there is no greater joy than seeing/feeling my baby moving, hearing the doctor tell me all about him as we watch him on an ultrasound. Hope doesn't necessarily cast away the fears and anxieties, but it does put them in their place. Hope tells them that I'm going to keep walking, no matter what they say. Hope tells me that I don't have to do more than I'm ready for, that it is ok if I'm having a rough day, because I can keep going anyway. Hope isn't always a strong, lighthouse beacon in the night. Sometimes, hope is knowing that your eyes will adjust to the darkness so you can keep going. Hope is also the sliver of light to which your eyes adjust. Most days are wonderful. Q is a relatively active baby, at least compared to M, and I'm grateful for that (and no, I don't think I'll eat those words when he is born...I know the worse-case alternative and I'll take an active, rambunctious boy over that every single time). Most days, he is kicking and active and there is no doubt that he is fine. Other days, he is quiet and resting...which is normal, but I have to remind myself actively and often of the normalcy of it. And both of those days are ok. The quiet days get fewer and farther between the bigger he gets.
Please believe me, friends and family, I am not always as relaxed and confident as I seem. I sometimes keep up a facade because I need to. I need to act as though it is all ok because that helps me hang on to my hope. A very dear friend who is also pregnant after losses right now and I were talking. She said that she was having trouble holding on to hope. I told her I'd hold hers for her when she couldn't carry it herself if she'd do the same. She immediately understood what I meant and agreed. It is the greatest gift we can give each other, to hold on to hope for each other in the dark times. Other close friends offered to have a shower for me. I love and need the confidence that they have that Q will be fine. Know it or not, they help me hold my hope. I am not ready for a shower just yet (which is also common in the PAL community...a lot of women don't have "showers" until after their babies are born), but their unquestioning confidence was bolstering and happened to come on a day when I'd been having a particularly tough time with anxiety.
A few weeks ago, I came out of M's room and looked at the clock in the kitchen. I realized that I was 19 weeks, 6 days and that it was 8:30 pm exactly...the exact time gestationally that Puff was born into the arms of angels. The next morning, when I felt Q move for the first time of the day, I took a deep breath and sighed. That, my friends, is hope. This little man has made it farther down the road than any of his siblings except for M. May he ever follow in her joyful, happy footsteps and may the sound of them one day fill our ears and our home.
Honestly, some people may expect that I'll relax more now. Q is past the point where Puff died. Surely that is a huge relief. Puff's death was a fluke. I know all that and it is a relief. I am more relaxed this pregnancy that a lot of the women I know who are going through or have gone through pregnancies after loss (commonly abbreviated PAL). I am a member of an on-line support group on Facebook for women who are pregnant after a second trimester loss, so I do have some frame of reference for how I'm doing. Overall, I think I'm doing well. I am not fully relaxed. There are still rough days where anxiety threatens to get the best of me. I still qualify statements in my mind. The baby is doing well "for now." We are very excited "and hope nothing goes wrong." We should sign up for a tour of the maternity ward since the hospital opened a new one since Puff was born "and I hope we don't have the crying heart on our door this time." The support group has helped me see that this is totally normal. Pretty much all of us ladies in the group feel that way and most, if not all, of the ladies who have gone on to have healthy happy babies felt that way until they held their babies and even beyond. As I've said before, though maybe not on this blog, "there ain't no paranoia like loss mom paranoia." It just seeps in to you.
That isn't to say that I'm not joyful and hopeful. I've simply learned that hope doesn't always look like I used to think. Hope isn't a blind determination that everything will be ok. Hope is continuing to walk the path even though you know it might not be ok, even though it hasn't been ok in the past. Hope is taking steps forward, looking past the anxiety, even when you want to give up. Hope is sometimes sitting down in the road, taking a break and letting the tears flow before getting up to take the next step. I've stayed on the road. I have hope. Trust me, there is no greater joy than seeing/feeling my baby moving, hearing the doctor tell me all about him as we watch him on an ultrasound. Hope doesn't necessarily cast away the fears and anxieties, but it does put them in their place. Hope tells them that I'm going to keep walking, no matter what they say. Hope tells me that I don't have to do more than I'm ready for, that it is ok if I'm having a rough day, because I can keep going anyway. Hope isn't always a strong, lighthouse beacon in the night. Sometimes, hope is knowing that your eyes will adjust to the darkness so you can keep going. Hope is also the sliver of light to which your eyes adjust. Most days are wonderful. Q is a relatively active baby, at least compared to M, and I'm grateful for that (and no, I don't think I'll eat those words when he is born...I know the worse-case alternative and I'll take an active, rambunctious boy over that every single time). Most days, he is kicking and active and there is no doubt that he is fine. Other days, he is quiet and resting...which is normal, but I have to remind myself actively and often of the normalcy of it. And both of those days are ok. The quiet days get fewer and farther between the bigger he gets.
Please believe me, friends and family, I am not always as relaxed and confident as I seem. I sometimes keep up a facade because I need to. I need to act as though it is all ok because that helps me hang on to my hope. A very dear friend who is also pregnant after losses right now and I were talking. She said that she was having trouble holding on to hope. I told her I'd hold hers for her when she couldn't carry it herself if she'd do the same. She immediately understood what I meant and agreed. It is the greatest gift we can give each other, to hold on to hope for each other in the dark times. Other close friends offered to have a shower for me. I love and need the confidence that they have that Q will be fine. Know it or not, they help me hold my hope. I am not ready for a shower just yet (which is also common in the PAL community...a lot of women don't have "showers" until after their babies are born), but their unquestioning confidence was bolstering and happened to come on a day when I'd been having a particularly tough time with anxiety.
A few weeks ago, I came out of M's room and looked at the clock in the kitchen. I realized that I was 19 weeks, 6 days and that it was 8:30 pm exactly...the exact time gestationally that Puff was born into the arms of angels. The next morning, when I felt Q move for the first time of the day, I took a deep breath and sighed. That, my friends, is hope. This little man has made it farther down the road than any of his siblings except for M. May he ever follow in her joyful, happy footsteps and may the sound of them one day fill our ears and our home.
Monday, August 29, 2016
It's A ... BABY!!!
Well, here we are. 22 weeks exactly today. Wow...I can now say that this is as pregnant as I've been since M. Puff was born at 19 weeks 6 days, just 3.5 hours short of the 20 week mark, though he'd passed several days before that. It is an amazing feeling, though the caution, trepidation, and qualifying statements (mostly in my head) haven't evaporated over night.
The biggest thing to announce is that I went to the doctor three weeks ago. I'm sorry this post is so late, but most of you already saw our FB post about this. For those of you who haven't...IT'S A BOY!!! We are thrilled and so is M. Initially, she wanted a sister so she could get bunk beds like her best friends (who are sisters). Once she realized it would take a few years before the baby could sleep in a bunk bed, she decided she'd rather have a brother so she wouldn't have to share her toys. No worries, we explained that she'll have to share her toys no matter what! She still wanted a brother because it means she won't have to share her nicer jewelry, lol! On my blog, he will be referred to as Q. For privacy's sake, though no one really reads this except family and friends, I don't use the first names of my husband and living children. Most of you will have seen the Facebook announcement that will go up at the same time as this blog post, so you'll already know his full name.
The ultrasound with the MFM revealed that he seems to be in perfect health. If anything, he is a bit on the bigger side. The MFM said that was a good sign, though I may not appreciate it as much when I reach term, lol! He measured at 19 weeks 6 days for size when I was 19 weeks and he weighed 12 oz (though weight can be off a good bit...most of us probably have stories about that). I was especially glad to hear that he was a bit above target for size since I haven't gained any significant weight yet. I lost weight with Puff and I'd always wondered if that might have had something to do with his death. My ob/gyn had assured me it didn't, that we did everything right and that he'd never been concerned about my weight loss (especially since I'm a bigger girl). Q's health and...ahem...vigor have removed any doubt I had. He was laying on his left side, facing my left arm (if he'd been able to see through me, he'd have been looking at Daddy through the ultrasound. He was very cooperative and let the MFM see everything he wanted to see except outflow on the left side of his heart. The MFM said he could cheat and tell that it was ok, but he wanted to see me back in 5 weeks for another ultrasound just to get a clearer picture. I don't know if it was truly to see Q's heart or if it was to set my mind more at ease, but I don't really care. I could have sat there all day and looked at him.
The MFM was fantastic about pointing out everything they were looking at and why. "See this? This is the cerebellum. See how it is shaped like a dumbbell? That's good! If it were shaped like a banana, that is indicative of spina bifida." "See his foot? It is in proportion with his arms and legs. If it wasn't, that could be an indicator of Down syndrome." He went on to point out the present nasal bone (can indicate Down syndrome if absent), appropriate neck thickness (can also indicate Down syndrome if too thick), and his intact lips (no signs of cleft lip or palate). So everything looked great! The MFMwants me to do a baseline protein test due to my still elevated blood pressure. He said I do not have pre-eclampsia now, but might develop it later on, so he wants to see a baseline measure now to have a comparison. My blood pressure was much lower when I saw my ob/gyn after the ultrasound (imagine that...), but he agreed with the MFM. It certainly won't hurt anything to have it done. My ob/gyn was happy with all the results and scans, with my overall progress, and wants to see me back in three weeks (two now) for the protein test and my glucose check. So I go back to my ob/gyn today for those tests and to the MFM in two weeks for the ultrasound to see the left side of Q's heart.
The biggest thing to announce is that I went to the doctor three weeks ago. I'm sorry this post is so late, but most of you already saw our FB post about this. For those of you who haven't...IT'S A BOY!!! We are thrilled and so is M. Initially, she wanted a sister so she could get bunk beds like her best friends (who are sisters). Once she realized it would take a few years before the baby could sleep in a bunk bed, she decided she'd rather have a brother so she wouldn't have to share her toys. No worries, we explained that she'll have to share her toys no matter what! She still wanted a brother because it means she won't have to share her nicer jewelry, lol! On my blog, he will be referred to as Q. For privacy's sake, though no one really reads this except family and friends, I don't use the first names of my husband and living children. Most of you will have seen the Facebook announcement that will go up at the same time as this blog post, so you'll already know his full name.
The ultrasound with the MFM revealed that he seems to be in perfect health. If anything, he is a bit on the bigger side. The MFM said that was a good sign, though I may not appreciate it as much when I reach term, lol! He measured at 19 weeks 6 days for size when I was 19 weeks and he weighed 12 oz (though weight can be off a good bit...most of us probably have stories about that). I was especially glad to hear that he was a bit above target for size since I haven't gained any significant weight yet. I lost weight with Puff and I'd always wondered if that might have had something to do with his death. My ob/gyn had assured me it didn't, that we did everything right and that he'd never been concerned about my weight loss (especially since I'm a bigger girl). Q's health and...ahem...vigor have removed any doubt I had. He was laying on his left side, facing my left arm (if he'd been able to see through me, he'd have been looking at Daddy through the ultrasound. He was very cooperative and let the MFM see everything he wanted to see except outflow on the left side of his heart. The MFM said he could cheat and tell that it was ok, but he wanted to see me back in 5 weeks for another ultrasound just to get a clearer picture. I don't know if it was truly to see Q's heart or if it was to set my mind more at ease, but I don't really care. I could have sat there all day and looked at him.
The MFM was fantastic about pointing out everything they were looking at and why. "See this? This is the cerebellum. See how it is shaped like a dumbbell? That's good! If it were shaped like a banana, that is indicative of spina bifida." "See his foot? It is in proportion with his arms and legs. If it wasn't, that could be an indicator of Down syndrome." He went on to point out the present nasal bone (can indicate Down syndrome if absent), appropriate neck thickness (can also indicate Down syndrome if too thick), and his intact lips (no signs of cleft lip or palate). So everything looked great! The MFMwants me to do a baseline protein test due to my still elevated blood pressure. He said I do not have pre-eclampsia now, but might develop it later on, so he wants to see a baseline measure now to have a comparison. My blood pressure was much lower when I saw my ob/gyn after the ultrasound (imagine that...), but he agreed with the MFM. It certainly won't hurt anything to have it done. My ob/gyn was happy with all the results and scans, with my overall progress, and wants to see me back in three weeks (two now) for the protein test and my glucose check. So I go back to my ob/gyn today for those tests and to the MFM in two weeks for the ultrasound to see the left side of Q's heart.
Tuesday, July 12, 2016
Time Travel Updates
Everything is fine. :) I often start my conversations with my mother in this way. I know she is anxious about me, J, M, and the baby...especially the baby right now. So I figured if it is good enough for my mother, it is good enough for my blog.
I wanted to talk a bit about my 10 week ultrasound before I get to my doctor's appointment yesterday (see first sentence if you're the anxious type). I have remarked before that I have been mostly calm during this pregnancy...more than I had expected, anyway. However, if you catch me on the morning of a doctor's appointment, my heart is hammering in my ears and I'm so anxious I feel sick to my stomach. The 10 week ultrasound was no exception. The nurse at the MFM's office called me back to get my blood pressure and weight before the ultrasound. My blood pressure was so high, an alarm on the machine sounded. Apparently, it showed I was having a stroke. Obviously, I wasn't, so I took a few deep breaths and we tried again. Much better the second time, but still high. Well, duh! I'm a nervous wreck here! I'm having trouble breathing at all, let alone deeply and calmly! So anyway, I went back to wait with J for them to call us for the ultrasound. It seemed like forever, but we were finally called back. The ultrasound began and I almost immediately saw my baby's heartbeat. There were huge sighs of relief, face-splitting smiles, and a few tears (well, J didn't cry, but I did). Through the whole ultrasound, the baby kicked its tiny feet and waved its tiny hand. It looked like one of the golden cat statues I always associate with Chinese restaurants. The little hand kept bobbing up and down. "Looks like baby is saying hi," the MFM noted. "Hi, baby! We love you so much!" Heartbeat was a strong 160. MFM told us that with a strong heartbeat and such an active baby, he did not expect any problems for us. "You're miscarriage chance at this point is, in my estimation, as low as anyone else's. At 10 weeks with these good signs, I doubt you will miscarry. I'm so sorry for your earlier losses, but it is likely that your first (Puff) was a fluke accident. I don't think there is much chance at all that it would happen again." I have rarely heard sweeter words. My ob/gyn concurred and we were sent home smiling with pictures of our kicking, waving baby.
I'll write more about the in-between time, as I've come to think about it, in another blog soon. Time travel to yesterday morning (7/11/16). I had a 15 week check-up with my ob-gyn. No ultrasound, just a routine follow-up. J decided to head to work unless I got to anxious and needed him there. I figured I'd be fine and sent him to work. I've requested morning appointments so that I can get it over with and not be anxious. Yesterday was no exception with anxiety. I was nervous to the point of trembling hands and feeling sick. The nurse called me back and began asking the standard questions. She reached for the blood pressure cuff and stethoscope. "Can we please do the Doppler first? My blood pressure will be sky high until I hear the heartbeat." "Oh, of course!" Thank heavens! The nurse began prodding around, looking for the heartbeat but only finding mine. I knew it was my heartbeat because the sounds on the Doppler matched the thumping in my ears. Then, a buzzing noise came from the intercom. "I'm so sorry. The doctor needs me," the nurse said as she rushed out the door. "I'll be right back."
Honestly, in those moments lying alone on that table with her not able to find my baby's heartbeat, I had a major flashback. There were a few moments when the doctor and nurse left me in the exam room while they went to find other equipment and, I assume, consult about not finding Puff's heartbeat. I thought the same thing yesterday that I did then. "This will either be the best ending or the worst." I fought back tears and prayed. "Lord, I don't think I can do this again. I don't have much choice at this point, but I'll walk the road You have for me." It is a very lonely, aching, desperate place to be.
As the nurse walked back through the door, she immediately apologized. "I'm an idiot! I've been off for a week and you're my first Doppler back. It should be routine by now, but I completely forgot to check where your uterus is (not as dumb as it sounds, since it grows and moves throughout pregnancy). I'm so sorry." Two seconds of poking my belly and two seconds positioning the Doppler and there it was. A strong whoshing noise, faster than before. Baby's heartbeat!!! A nice, solid 156. I didn't cry, but I came VERY close. I laughed in relief and asked her if I could stay there all day listening. "Oh, honey, I know. I'd let you if I could. I'm so sorry for the stress I caused earlier."
The rest of the appointment was pretty routine. My blood pressure was down from 10 weeks, but still a bit elevated. My doctor doesn't want me to change anything (I walk at least a mile each day with our dog and haven't gained a pound yet), but he is going to keep an eye on it. If it stays elevated or gets higher, he may recommend intervention and we would likely deliver baby early. But that isn't a major concern now as it was only slightly elevated. Other than that, I'm doing well and so is baby. Even typing that, I just sighed in relief.
My next appointment is the gender/anatomy ultrasound at 19 weeks with the MFM on August 8, 2016. I'll follow-up with my ob/gyn after. I know I'll probably be even more nervous than usual since we found out Puff had died at a 19 week appointment. It will be a relief, though, to not just hear the heartbeat, but also to see the baby moving on the ultrasound and to learn its gender. I'll definitely ask the MFM's nurse to do my blood pressure AFTER the ultrasound this time! :)
So we keep walking. Through the dark, bumpy patches of anxiety and fear. Through the smooth stretches where we step in time with a tiny heartbeat, drumming our hope. We walk, always one day, one step, one heartbeat closer to our sweet baby.
Monday, June 20, 2016
First Ultrasound (5/9/2016)
Here is another post written pre-public announcement of our pregnancy.
Well, our new baby is due January 2, 2017! As of the day I am writing this (May 9, 2016), I am exactly six weeks pregnant. My ob/gyn decided he wanted to see me early, around 7 weeks, as he wants to keep a closer eye on this pregnancy. His amazing staff scheduled an ultrasound at the MFM's office and a follow-up with him after. One perk of having the ultrasounds with the MFM is that the doctor is present during the ultrasound. The suite my ob/gyn uses is in a separate office and is only ultrasound techs. Nothing against technicians, but given my history, I am glad to have a doctor who specializes in high risk pregnancies looking at the ultrasounds too.
That's right...he wanted to see me at 7 weeks, we went today, and I said that I'm six weeks pregnant. Using traditional dating methods, I would be 7 weeks and 1 day pregnant. However, the ultrasound revealed that the baby was not as big as we thought, so the due date was pushed back to 1/2/17, putting us at 6 weeks pregnant. That happened with M too, except her due date was pushed back two weeks! She was born three days ahead of the later due date, so it was definitely right. Other than that, though, the MFM said everything looked great. No signs of subchorionic hemorrhage (Bunny's cause of death)! And best of all, we got to see and hear the baby's heartbeat!!! Heart rate is 124, which both doctors agreed is a good sign. MFM said that my progesterone should be good, based on the ultrasound, but ordered labs just to be sure. My ob/gyn put me on a dose of progesterone as soon as we got the positive test, but the MFM said he would increase it if he needed to. However, the labs came back and my levels were great.
It was super comforting when, in the follow-up with him, my ob/gyn started talking about expectations for labor and delivery based on my experience with M, about getting a TDAP shot at 32 weeks, etc. Hearing him talk about the future of this pregnancy with such certainty really drove it home. There is no reason why this pregnancy shouldn't get that far. There are no indications at this point that there is anything wrong. All the signs point to a healthy pregnancy and baby...and definitely to a happy Mama, Daddy, and Big Sister! Both doctors and their staffs were supportive, caring, and all-around fantastic. We couldn't ask for better care. Both doctors, independent of each other, agreed that I should come back in four weeks for another ultrasound and follow-up. They want to keep a close eye on this pregnancy, given our history. Technically, I haven't been classified as "high risk" at this point, but since the MFM's office will be doing my ultrasounds, he wanted to stay involved. I'm not sure how involved he will be in the long run. I don't know if they will want to continue doing more frequent ultrasounds just to be sure or if the next one will be the last until the gender/anatomy scan around 20 weeks. We will have to wait and see.
But tonight, my steps down the road are a little lighter and the path seems a little brighter. Even if it is just for this moment, even if the darkness closes in again soon (as I know all too well that it can), I am going to enjoy this moment. Tonight, as we travel down our path, we skip, we run, we sing, and we dance. Tonight is a night for joy.
Well, our new baby is due January 2, 2017! As of the day I am writing this (May 9, 2016), I am exactly six weeks pregnant. My ob/gyn decided he wanted to see me early, around 7 weeks, as he wants to keep a closer eye on this pregnancy. His amazing staff scheduled an ultrasound at the MFM's office and a follow-up with him after. One perk of having the ultrasounds with the MFM is that the doctor is present during the ultrasound. The suite my ob/gyn uses is in a separate office and is only ultrasound techs. Nothing against technicians, but given my history, I am glad to have a doctor who specializes in high risk pregnancies looking at the ultrasounds too.
That's right...he wanted to see me at 7 weeks, we went today, and I said that I'm six weeks pregnant. Using traditional dating methods, I would be 7 weeks and 1 day pregnant. However, the ultrasound revealed that the baby was not as big as we thought, so the due date was pushed back to 1/2/17, putting us at 6 weeks pregnant. That happened with M too, except her due date was pushed back two weeks! She was born three days ahead of the later due date, so it was definitely right. Other than that, though, the MFM said everything looked great. No signs of subchorionic hemorrhage (Bunny's cause of death)! And best of all, we got to see and hear the baby's heartbeat!!! Heart rate is 124, which both doctors agreed is a good sign. MFM said that my progesterone should be good, based on the ultrasound, but ordered labs just to be sure. My ob/gyn put me on a dose of progesterone as soon as we got the positive test, but the MFM said he would increase it if he needed to. However, the labs came back and my levels were great.
It was super comforting when, in the follow-up with him, my ob/gyn started talking about expectations for labor and delivery based on my experience with M, about getting a TDAP shot at 32 weeks, etc. Hearing him talk about the future of this pregnancy with such certainty really drove it home. There is no reason why this pregnancy shouldn't get that far. There are no indications at this point that there is anything wrong. All the signs point to a healthy pregnancy and baby...and definitely to a happy Mama, Daddy, and Big Sister! Both doctors and their staffs were supportive, caring, and all-around fantastic. We couldn't ask for better care. Both doctors, independent of each other, agreed that I should come back in four weeks for another ultrasound and follow-up. They want to keep a close eye on this pregnancy, given our history. Technically, I haven't been classified as "high risk" at this point, but since the MFM's office will be doing my ultrasounds, he wanted to stay involved. I'm not sure how involved he will be in the long run. I don't know if they will want to continue doing more frequent ultrasounds just to be sure or if the next one will be the last until the gender/anatomy scan around 20 weeks. We will have to wait and see.
But tonight, my steps down the road are a little lighter and the path seems a little brighter. Even if it is just for this moment, even if the darkness closes in again soon (as I know all too well that it can), I am going to enjoy this moment. Tonight, as we travel down our path, we skip, we run, we sing, and we dance. Tonight is a night for joy.
Monday, June 13, 2016
Gratitude and Comfort
I am writing this blog on April 20th, 2016. I'm noting that because this post won't be published for a while. I don't yet know how long it will be, but there are things that need to be done before I can publish it.
WE'RE PREGNANT!! We found out on April 18th. I'd been having some symptoms, but I tend to be a symptom-seeker, so I try not to get my hopes up. All the signs pointed to it, though, so after a faint if-I-turn-it-just-the-right-way-in-just-the-right-light-it-is-maybe-positive test that morning, I took another test in the afternoon and got a definite positive. I am, on April 20th, 4 weeks and 2 days pregnant. (UPDATE: I was actually only about 3 weeks and 1 day pregnant, baby's scan showed that it is a bit behind. More on that in a later post, but it is nothing to worry about) My doctor has started me on progesterone (which, from what I can tell, may or may not help but won't hurt). I will not see him until the second week in May, when I will be 7 weeks. I don't have an appointment date yet, as scheduling is difficult. My ob/gyn and the MFM who did our testing have agreed (at my request) that I can do my ultrasounds at the MFMs office. The ultrasound suite my ob/gyn uses is where it was confirmed to me that Puff had died, where we learned that something was wrong with the pregnancy with Bunny, and where it was confirmed that the pregnancy with Bunny was not viable. I have strong feelings associated with that office and I am not sure how I would react going back. Both doctors agree that the stress is not worth it, especially since the MFM's office and my ob/gyn's office are both located at the same hospital. I can walk from one to the other...not quickly, but I can. I will remain under the care of my ob/gyn unless complications arise that would necessitate moving to the MFM. So scheduling the ultrasound at the MFM's and the appointment with my ob/gyn has proven tricky.
WE'RE PREGNANT!! We found out on April 18th. I'd been having some symptoms, but I tend to be a symptom-seeker, so I try not to get my hopes up. All the signs pointed to it, though, so after a faint if-I-turn-it-just-the-right-way-in-just-the-right-light-it-is-maybe-positive test that morning, I took another test in the afternoon and got a definite positive. I am, on April 20th, 4 weeks and 2 days pregnant. (UPDATE: I was actually only about 3 weeks and 1 day pregnant, baby's scan showed that it is a bit behind. More on that in a later post, but it is nothing to worry about) My doctor has started me on progesterone (which, from what I can tell, may or may not help but won't hurt). I will not see him until the second week in May, when I will be 7 weeks. I don't have an appointment date yet, as scheduling is difficult. My ob/gyn and the MFM who did our testing have agreed (at my request) that I can do my ultrasounds at the MFMs office. The ultrasound suite my ob/gyn uses is where it was confirmed to me that Puff had died, where we learned that something was wrong with the pregnancy with Bunny, and where it was confirmed that the pregnancy with Bunny was not viable. I have strong feelings associated with that office and I am not sure how I would react going back. Both doctors agree that the stress is not worth it, especially since the MFM's office and my ob/gyn's office are both located at the same hospital. I can walk from one to the other...not quickly, but I can. I will remain under the care of my ob/gyn unless complications arise that would necessitate moving to the MFM. So scheduling the ultrasound at the MFM's and the appointment with my ob/gyn has proven tricky.
Those are the nitty gritty details that people will want to know. They are up-to-date as of the day I'm writing this and I will only edit critical details before I post this. The main reason I'm writing this is because I want to chronicle this part of the journey. J and I don't know when we'll make this baby public. Some family members and close friends know already, but not many. It is still so new. It isn't that we're scared of a loss, though we are. J always says that if people want to rejoice with us, they can mourn with us. If they can't be with us through both, they don't need to be part of our lives. We're just relaxing as much as we can and enjoying this.
Honestly, I have felt more relaxed and calm in the days immediately before and after the positive test than I have since the early days of my pregnancy with Puff. Even before we had a loss of our own, there was always the first trimester angst. It wasn't as intense, but it was there. Anyway, I have caught myself daydreaming about being hugely pregnant and feeling this baby move, or about being home with the baby on maternity leave. It has been comforting to feel more calm. I am having some symptoms, which is the bulk of what I wanted to talk about.
I've had some nausea throughout the day, some sensitivity to smells, some aversions/cravings (similar to the ones I had with Puff...I want spicy food, lol), frequent urination, forgetfulness (my typical tell) and some ligament pain. These are all normal, blessedly, wonderfully normal. I make sure to talk to J about them, to update him throughout the day with how I'm feeling. Mostly, I do this because I find immense comfort in the symptoms, especially the nausea and ligament pain. I know those are there because of higher-than-normal hormone levels. Every time a wave of nausea hits, every time a ligament protests when I move too quickly, every time I have to stop what I'm doing to pee, or try to remember something simple, I say a quick "thank you" prayer. I am so grateful for these symptoms. They bring comfort because they help me remember and rest in the knowledge that I'm still pregnant. Even if this goes wrong later, right now, I'm pregnant and I can enjoy this baby for every minute that it is with me. That is the outlook I want to have.
Throughout this pregnancy, I am going to try to keep this outlook. I am going to try to be grateful for every inconvenience, pain, and sickness. I am going to try to use as many minutes of lost sleep as possible praying for this baby, for my friends and family, and for myself. I am going to try to remember to say "thank you" when each little thing hits. I know how quickly it can go away and how heartbreaking that can be. I've been the woman listening to a thoughtless comment, reading a post complaining about a pregnancy symptoms, etc. and feeling the invisible knife cut my heart, just a little bit deeper because I would give anything except another life to have those symptoms, to have that ignorance of the shattering grief of child loss.
So as we walk this new path on our road, please walk with us. Please hold me accountable to my gratitude, but be sensitive about it. Please understand that, no matter how grateful we are, grief is still a part of our lives and always will be. No baby will replace Puff, Luke, and Bunny nor make me stop longing for them. We walk, hoping for light, straining to glimpse it up ahead, catching it and holding on for dear life whenever we can. Resting in the knowledge that right here, right now, we're pregnant!
Monday, February 29, 2016
Entropy and Loss
I've been avoiding this post. Heck, I've even had this written for several days and left it unpublished. More on that in a minute. Two and a half weeks ago, we went to see the MFM and start testing. Let me start out by saying that the appointment was wonderful. We saw a female doctor in the practice. She was very empathetic, never making us feel rushed while thoroughly answering every question we threw at her (and there were quite a few). She agreed to a test I asked about (TSH) and then suggested another on my list (structural exam) before I had a chance to even bring it up. We were placed in a consultation room that had a comfortable couch and chair, television, lamps, and bookshelves. With the exception of the obstetric and gynecological journals and textbooks on the shelves, there was no indication that we were in an ob/gyn/MFM office. No smiling/sleeping babies, no belly shots of pregnant women, no magazines telling you how to have your perfect pregnancy now. It was neutral and refreshing.
I think that, as a whole, we humans don't do well with entropy. We seem to constantly try to reign in the chaos, to make sense of the world around us and place things into categories. I think we all like some degree of order, structure, guidelines, predictability, etc. Often, we assign reasons or backstory to a situation so that it makes sense to us. Randomness scares us. Chaos is the stuff of nightmares. So, we assign people to categories or roles so that they fit our notions of structure. We invent scenarios to make sense out of what may seem random. Sadly, we don't always do this in the nicest way. That guy who tailgated me, cut me off, and zoomed off way over the speed limit is an impatient jerk rather than someone who might be on his way to his first or last time seeing a loved one. The mother with the screaming kid at the store is someone who doesn't discipline her child effectively, rather than someone who didn't get a lot of sleep because her child has night terrors...and the child is a spoiled brat rather than a kid who is tired and anxious because of terrifying dreams. Losing my job was really only the catalyst to finding my dream job and, in retrospect, was the best thing that could have happened. It was worth the scary, shitty, anxious time of having no job and very little money to find the happiness I have now. Categories, roles, backstory...even imagined or assigned, these things help us make sense of the world around us and help us assign meaning.
How does these two paragraphs relate? Well, those of you who know me know that I have a touch of Obsessive/Compulsive Personality Disorder. Not enough to be diagnosed, but enough to be a bit crazier than most people. As much as humans love order, I REALLY love order. Chaos makes me
I think that, as a whole, we humans don't do well with entropy. We seem to constantly try to reign in the chaos, to make sense of the world around us and place things into categories. I think we all like some degree of order, structure, guidelines, predictability, etc. Often, we assign reasons or backstory to a situation so that it makes sense to us. Randomness scares us. Chaos is the stuff of nightmares. So, we assign people to categories or roles so that they fit our notions of structure. We invent scenarios to make sense out of what may seem random. Sadly, we don't always do this in the nicest way. That guy who tailgated me, cut me off, and zoomed off way over the speed limit is an impatient jerk rather than someone who might be on his way to his first or last time seeing a loved one. The mother with the screaming kid at the store is someone who doesn't discipline her child effectively, rather than someone who didn't get a lot of sleep because her child has night terrors...and the child is a spoiled brat rather than a kid who is tired and anxious because of terrifying dreams. Losing my job was really only the catalyst to finding my dream job and, in retrospect, was the best thing that could have happened. It was worth the scary, shitty, anxious time of having no job and very little money to find the happiness I have now. Categories, roles, backstory...even imagined or assigned, these things help us make sense of the world around us and help us assign meaning.
How does these two paragraphs relate? Well, those of you who know me know that I have a touch of Obsessive/Compulsive Personality Disorder. Not enough to be diagnosed, but enough to be a bit crazier than most people. As much as humans love order, I REALLY love order. Chaos makes me
anxious. I like things in neat rows (not literally...I don't line up pencils...usually). I like categories and data and numbers. I like it when things make sense. I like predictability, stability, and routine. I try to avoid the categorizations I talked about in the previous paragraph, but I do it, too. We all do. So here's my first confession...I'm scared senseless that my losses don't have order, don't fit into neat categories, that the data won't match up. I'm scared because not finding a reason for the losses leaves them without a category, makes them random. I don't do well with random. In a way, I don't believe in random. But if there isn't a reason medical science can find, then I don't know what to do. I don't know how to assign meaning to my losses, to my babies, if the only category for their deaths is "random" or "bad luck."
Here is confession number two. All of the blood tests with the exception of the genetic tests have come back. All of them are within normal ranges, so far as I can tell. We haven't talked to the doctor yet, but through the miracle of electronic health records, I have seen every test result. While this means there isn't anything "unfixable" wrong with me, it also means that our only chance of finding a "reason" for the losses is if there is something genetic or structural wrong. Those are much more serious and more likely to be "unfixable" (though some things are avoidable or can be worked around). So while there was a sense of relief every time I would look at the results and see them within normal ranges or "no mutation found," there was a sense of disappointment, too.
Here is confession number two. All of the blood tests with the exception of the genetic tests have come back. All of them are within normal ranges, so far as I can tell. We haven't talked to the doctor yet, but through the miracle of electronic health records, I have seen every test result. While this means there isn't anything "unfixable" wrong with me, it also means that our only chance of finding a "reason" for the losses is if there is something genetic or structural wrong. Those are much more serious and more likely to be "unfixable" (though some things are avoidable or can be worked around). So while there was a sense of relief every time I would look at the results and see them within normal ranges or "no mutation found," there was a sense of disappointment, too.
It seems beyond fathomable that 75% of my pregnancies have ended in death, but there is no medical reason. I can't understand how I'm supposed to find hope enough to keep trying, hope that I'll ever hold another biological child if 75% of my pregnancies end in unexplained death. Those are really, really terrible odds. Not the worst, but pretty darn bad. Knowing that there is a 75% chance that a future pregnancy will end in death, is it irresponsible to keep trying? Is it cruel to subject babies to those kinds of odds if I get pregnant again? I don't worry about myself or J. We want to keep trying. We are not at the point that we cannot take having the hope dashed again, that the risk is not worth the reward. But I wonder still. I don't have good answers to the questions. There aren't any. All I can say to anyone else facing them is that you have to do the best you can with what you have. Right now, if there is no "reason," we are willing to take the chance on another pregnancy. If that baby dies, I don't know what we'll do, if we'll keep trying. Eventually, there comes a point where people simply cannot keep trying. We'll know when we get there and that choice isn't one anyone else can, or should, make for us. Thankfully, we are surrounded by loving people who support us and our choices.
This part of the road is particularly agonizing as we try to find order and meaning in the midst of unyielding chaos and questions. But still, we stay on the path. Sometimes staggering beneath the weight of it all, sometimes bearing it with more grace and dignity, but always forward. Even when we seem to be taking a step back, it is still a step that influences our journey forward.
Monday, February 1, 2016
What to Expect When You're Testing
One week from now, I will (hopefully) be back at the high risk doctor with J for our testing. While this is not the topic of the blog post, a few people have asked, so I thought I'd share what tests the doctor plans to order. We'll both be doing a genetic karyotype to ensure neither of us is carrying a genetic disorder that could cause miscarriages. The rest of the tests are just for me, lucky girl that I am. They'll run an Antinuclear Antibody test to check for autoimmune disorders; MTHFR, which is a genetic mutation that leads to clotting disorders; Factor V Leiden thrombophilia, another genetic disorder that leads to problems with clotting; Proteins S and C levels, which are associated with excessive clotting; prothrombin/INR time tests, which look at how long it takes my blood to clot; and finally, homocysteine levels, which is associated with B12/Folic Acid deficiencies and clotting problems. I am also going to ask for a thyroid panel while we are there...as well as anything else they can/will do. Notice a trend? Lots of clotting disorder tests on the books.
We know Bunny died due to two large subchorionic hemorrhages. We know we had a threatened miscarriage with Luke before the actual miscarriage, but we don't know why. We know Puff was born with a tight nuchal cord, but we don't know why. Nuchal cord at his gestational age is incredibly rare. My research put the statistics at under a 6% likelihood, with NO statistics available about nuchal cord causing death at that gestational age. We also know that with *only* three miscarriages, the tests are unlikely to reveal anything. I have been on a prenatal vitamin since June of 2014 and took extra folic acid with at least Luke and Bunny, so a deficiency isn't likely as treatment is taking extra folic acid. I have been on an 81mg aspirin regimen since my early 20s due to my history of hemisensory migraines and family history of heart problems. According to my ob/gyn, that is the typical first line treatment for clotting problems, so that is unlikely also. Neither J, M, or I have any symptoms of genetic abnormalities, so that, too, is unlikely. I also started progesterone right after we got the positive test with Bunny.
So yeah, there are lots of things that are unlikely, but possible. The losses were all so different and I know that both my ob/gyn and MFM think that they are probably not related. However, J and I agree that we can't wait for another loss to do testing. I know the doctors think we are likely to go on to have a healthy pregnancy. We simply aren't willing to risk the life of yet another of our children. Insurance will pay for testing after three miscarriages, we're getting the testing after three miscarriages. If nothing comes of it, we'll at least have that knowledge. If something does, then we'll either be able to do something to improve our odds of a healthy pregnancy or we won't but we'll know what we're up against. No matter what, we want as much information as possible to make the best, most well-informed decision possible. From here, we can work with my ob/gyn and MFM to make a plan for the next pregnancy.
In several different conversations with friends about the testing, the same awkward moment comes up. People don't know if they should hope the tests find something or not. I can understand both viewpoints. On one hand, finding something means that there is something wrong with (most likely) me and my friends are likely afraid I might blame myself. On the other hand, finding nothing means that we have no idea why we lost 75% of our pregnancies and those stats don't forecast happy days ahead, no matter what the doctors say. So here's my hope. I hope we find something. Even if it is something that can't be compensated for, fixed, or eradicated, at least I'll have a reason. At least then, the losses won't be random, "bad luck," etc. Maybe I'll blame myself a bit, but I have a cognitive understanding that I didn't know about the problem and couldn't possibly have done anything about it. I understand that I did as much as I could as soon as I could and I honored my babies by getting the testing so that we could do as much as possible for a better ending next time. To me, the worse of the two options is not knowing, having to face the possibility of trying again and again just to end up in the same dark hole until we finally have to stop. I know that is the most likely outcome, not finding anything, and it is the scariest for me. But regardless, I have to try. I have to give any biological children we might go on to have the best chance I can, even though it means facing down and likely living through, one of my worst fears.
While hope isn't exactly is strong supply at this moment, it comes and goes. But hope is always there or we wouldn't go for testing at all, we wouldn't keep trying, we wouldn't keep fighting. Maybe it is more accurate to say that my hope is more hard-fought than ever before in my life. It isn't that it isn't there, but rather that I've been able to take it for granted in the past. Now that I have to fight for every scrap of hope for a healthy baby, I feel the loss of that innocence, of the free and limitless supply of hope I used to have. But hope remains, and so we walk down the path that will lead to our redemption, not knowing what the road holds, but trusting in the One who holds us.
We know Bunny died due to two large subchorionic hemorrhages. We know we had a threatened miscarriage with Luke before the actual miscarriage, but we don't know why. We know Puff was born with a tight nuchal cord, but we don't know why. Nuchal cord at his gestational age is incredibly rare. My research put the statistics at under a 6% likelihood, with NO statistics available about nuchal cord causing death at that gestational age. We also know that with *only* three miscarriages, the tests are unlikely to reveal anything. I have been on a prenatal vitamin since June of 2014 and took extra folic acid with at least Luke and Bunny, so a deficiency isn't likely as treatment is taking extra folic acid. I have been on an 81mg aspirin regimen since my early 20s due to my history of hemisensory migraines and family history of heart problems. According to my ob/gyn, that is the typical first line treatment for clotting problems, so that is unlikely also. Neither J, M, or I have any symptoms of genetic abnormalities, so that, too, is unlikely. I also started progesterone right after we got the positive test with Bunny.
So yeah, there are lots of things that are unlikely, but possible. The losses were all so different and I know that both my ob/gyn and MFM think that they are probably not related. However, J and I agree that we can't wait for another loss to do testing. I know the doctors think we are likely to go on to have a healthy pregnancy. We simply aren't willing to risk the life of yet another of our children. Insurance will pay for testing after three miscarriages, we're getting the testing after three miscarriages. If nothing comes of it, we'll at least have that knowledge. If something does, then we'll either be able to do something to improve our odds of a healthy pregnancy or we won't but we'll know what we're up against. No matter what, we want as much information as possible to make the best, most well-informed decision possible. From here, we can work with my ob/gyn and MFM to make a plan for the next pregnancy.
In several different conversations with friends about the testing, the same awkward moment comes up. People don't know if they should hope the tests find something or not. I can understand both viewpoints. On one hand, finding something means that there is something wrong with (most likely) me and my friends are likely afraid I might blame myself. On the other hand, finding nothing means that we have no idea why we lost 75% of our pregnancies and those stats don't forecast happy days ahead, no matter what the doctors say. So here's my hope. I hope we find something. Even if it is something that can't be compensated for, fixed, or eradicated, at least I'll have a reason. At least then, the losses won't be random, "bad luck," etc. Maybe I'll blame myself a bit, but I have a cognitive understanding that I didn't know about the problem and couldn't possibly have done anything about it. I understand that I did as much as I could as soon as I could and I honored my babies by getting the testing so that we could do as much as possible for a better ending next time. To me, the worse of the two options is not knowing, having to face the possibility of trying again and again just to end up in the same dark hole until we finally have to stop. I know that is the most likely outcome, not finding anything, and it is the scariest for me. But regardless, I have to try. I have to give any biological children we might go on to have the best chance I can, even though it means facing down and likely living through, one of my worst fears.
While hope isn't exactly is strong supply at this moment, it comes and goes. But hope is always there or we wouldn't go for testing at all, we wouldn't keep trying, we wouldn't keep fighting. Maybe it is more accurate to say that my hope is more hard-fought than ever before in my life. It isn't that it isn't there, but rather that I've been able to take it for granted in the past. Now that I have to fight for every scrap of hope for a healthy baby, I feel the loss of that innocence, of the free and limitless supply of hope I used to have. But hope remains, and so we walk down the path that will lead to our redemption, not knowing what the road holds, but trusting in the One who holds us.
Friday, January 8, 2016
Gone
So this post is going to be REALLY hard to write. Please know that and be generous with me. It may also be hard to read, as it is the long-overdue story of Puff's birthday. Puff's first birthday was 12/10/15. I wrote a post on 12/8, which was the one year anniversary of finding out he had died, but 12/10 was the day he was born. I will never forget that day.
J and I drove up to the hospital with my mom. J's mom stayed with M all day, until my mom came back to get her ready for bed. We checked in on the exact same floor in the same hospital where M was born. We were just a few rooms down, at the end of the hall in a corner. We later learned that the nurses often put loss families there because it is quieter and more secluded. A paper with a purple heart and a tear was placed on our door so everyone who came in would know what was going on. We had two nurses on day shift. They were wonderful. We couldn't have asked for better care. They loved us and Puff so well that day. They administered the first round induction meds at 9:00 am. J read to Mom and me throughout the day from a Jim Gaffigan book to help keep our minds occupied and bring some much needed laughter to a horrible day. Our nurses came in and out, giving us pieces of information in small doses so we could process, think, and (when needed) decide at our own pace. They brought us choices of clothing for our baby, choosing more gender neutral items, since we didn't know the sex. They told us what the hospital had to offer us, which was so much more than most families get. They laughed and even cried with us throughout the day.
At around 3:30, we thought labor was starting. My ob/gyn's office is attached to the hospital, so he rushed down to deliver our baby. Turns out, it was a false start. I remember getting two rounds of pain meds throughout the process, though I had a drug-free labor and delivery with M. As the nurses, J, and my mom kept telling me, there was no need to be a hero. I still wonder about that. He was gone, yes, but I pushed through the pain with M and not with him. No sense dwelling on it, though. I made the best choice at the time and I think I would do the same thing again. As the day wore on, we began discussing when Mom should head home to put M to bed. She was going to take my car, which had been sitting in a parking garage on the other side of the hospital complex since J took me home from the doctor's after finding out Puff had died. She didn't know how to get to the other garage, though. We asked the nurses, who volunteered to come back after they got off shift at 7pm and changed to pick Mom up and walk her to my car. It was close to where they parked, but still...this extra level of care meant the world to us. After Mom and our nurses left, we got another extraordinary nurse. She hadn't been with us long when I felt Puff coming. After all day of nothing, once he was coming, there was no stopping it. There wasn't even time for the on-call doctor to make it to the hospital, so the doctor in-residence delivered our firstborn son. He told us it was a boy, then looked me in the eyes and said,"I want you to know...I truly believe your son is in Heaven right now." Then, he called J down. "You need to see this," he said as he showed J the tight nuchal cord that likely took our son from us. We will probably never know exactly why Puff died, but that is the most likely culprit at this point.
Our nurse gave him to us. I'll be honest, it was hard. He'd been gone for a few days, so deterioration had started. But he was my baby and I held him as long as I was allowed. I was and am so proud of him. I'll never forget his perfect fingers, his tiny feet and toes, his eyes, his mouth. We weren't sure if we wanted pictures, but our nurse insisted. "You can always put them away and never look at them, but if we don't take them now, you'll never get this chance again." God bless her...she was so right. She worked so hard, making sure we had pictures, a beautiful outfit, a memory box, a teddy bear, a duplicate of the blanket they gave him, and even handprints and footprints. She let J give him a bath, which has been his job with M until recently. Our priest came and prayed a blessing over us and Puff. We had a few more moments with him before the hospital staff had to take him away. I cherish the memory of those moments with him and the pictures we have. My love for him is every bit as all-encompassing as my love for M.
That is a big reason why walking this road has been so hard. Every step is a step closer to seeing him again, but every step is a step away from him also. Every step feels wrong because it is without him. My sweet baby should be 8 months old. Cutting teeth, sitting up, crawling, working on walking and talking. We should be introducing new solid food and having bedtime nursing snuggles. Instead, we are still waiting for a baby who will come home, waiting for testing, for the unlikely possibility of answers. As I said to a friend earlier today, it is a tough place to be, but it is the only place I have. So sometimes, I stop, stand still for a moment, and remember with joy and pain. And sometimes, I walk, slowly, down the path. Time moves inexorably onward, and so we move ever farther down the road.
J and I drove up to the hospital with my mom. J's mom stayed with M all day, until my mom came back to get her ready for bed. We checked in on the exact same floor in the same hospital where M was born. We were just a few rooms down, at the end of the hall in a corner. We later learned that the nurses often put loss families there because it is quieter and more secluded. A paper with a purple heart and a tear was placed on our door so everyone who came in would know what was going on. We had two nurses on day shift. They were wonderful. We couldn't have asked for better care. They loved us and Puff so well that day. They administered the first round induction meds at 9:00 am. J read to Mom and me throughout the day from a Jim Gaffigan book to help keep our minds occupied and bring some much needed laughter to a horrible day. Our nurses came in and out, giving us pieces of information in small doses so we could process, think, and (when needed) decide at our own pace. They brought us choices of clothing for our baby, choosing more gender neutral items, since we didn't know the sex. They told us what the hospital had to offer us, which was so much more than most families get. They laughed and even cried with us throughout the day.
At around 3:30, we thought labor was starting. My ob/gyn's office is attached to the hospital, so he rushed down to deliver our baby. Turns out, it was a false start. I remember getting two rounds of pain meds throughout the process, though I had a drug-free labor and delivery with M. As the nurses, J, and my mom kept telling me, there was no need to be a hero. I still wonder about that. He was gone, yes, but I pushed through the pain with M and not with him. No sense dwelling on it, though. I made the best choice at the time and I think I would do the same thing again. As the day wore on, we began discussing when Mom should head home to put M to bed. She was going to take my car, which had been sitting in a parking garage on the other side of the hospital complex since J took me home from the doctor's after finding out Puff had died. She didn't know how to get to the other garage, though. We asked the nurses, who volunteered to come back after they got off shift at 7pm and changed to pick Mom up and walk her to my car. It was close to where they parked, but still...this extra level of care meant the world to us. After Mom and our nurses left, we got another extraordinary nurse. She hadn't been with us long when I felt Puff coming. After all day of nothing, once he was coming, there was no stopping it. There wasn't even time for the on-call doctor to make it to the hospital, so the doctor in-residence delivered our firstborn son. He told us it was a boy, then looked me in the eyes and said,"I want you to know...I truly believe your son is in Heaven right now." Then, he called J down. "You need to see this," he said as he showed J the tight nuchal cord that likely took our son from us. We will probably never know exactly why Puff died, but that is the most likely culprit at this point.
Our nurse gave him to us. I'll be honest, it was hard. He'd been gone for a few days, so deterioration had started. But he was my baby and I held him as long as I was allowed. I was and am so proud of him. I'll never forget his perfect fingers, his tiny feet and toes, his eyes, his mouth. We weren't sure if we wanted pictures, but our nurse insisted. "You can always put them away and never look at them, but if we don't take them now, you'll never get this chance again." God bless her...she was so right. She worked so hard, making sure we had pictures, a beautiful outfit, a memory box, a teddy bear, a duplicate of the blanket they gave him, and even handprints and footprints. She let J give him a bath, which has been his job with M until recently. Our priest came and prayed a blessing over us and Puff. We had a few more moments with him before the hospital staff had to take him away. I cherish the memory of those moments with him and the pictures we have. My love for him is every bit as all-encompassing as my love for M.
That is a big reason why walking this road has been so hard. Every step is a step closer to seeing him again, but every step is a step away from him also. Every step feels wrong because it is without him. My sweet baby should be 8 months old. Cutting teeth, sitting up, crawling, working on walking and talking. We should be introducing new solid food and having bedtime nursing snuggles. Instead, we are still waiting for a baby who will come home, waiting for testing, for the unlikely possibility of answers. As I said to a friend earlier today, it is a tough place to be, but it is the only place I have. So sometimes, I stop, stand still for a moment, and remember with joy and pain. And sometimes, I walk, slowly, down the path. Time moves inexorably onward, and so we move ever farther down the road.
Monday, January 4, 2016
Fitting In
I know I've been absent for a while. I wanted to take a bit of time today to write about something seasonal, sort of. I've always thought "We Three Kings" was an odd song. The strangely haunting melody seems somewhat out of place with the rest of the Christmas carols we sing. Plus, you often only sing the first and last, sometimes second, verses. However, in the year plus since Puff died, I've come to really appreciate this song and how little I understood about it growing up.
I think the true power in this song is only revealed when you sing all the verses. So why don't we? Let's be honest, that fourth verse is kinda creepy.
Myrrh is mine: it's bitter perfume
Breathes a life of gathering gloom.
Sorrowing, sighing, bleeding, dying
Sealed in a stone-cold tomb.
Not exactly what we like to think about at Christmas. Call me morbid, but having lost three children, I have a much greater appreciation for this verse. It calls us to remember that this baby isn't just a cute, cuddly baby. This baby is the King of kings. But that doesn't mean He won't face hardship. This baby brings about our "happily ever after," but the story certainly has it's dark plot points. We can't look at this baby and forget the cross. This verse speaks to me in a way it didn't before. I feel like I can relate to the "sorrowing, sighing, bleeding, dying" bits...it resonates strongly with how I felt after the deaths of Puff, Luke, and Bunny. I've felt the "gathering gloom" waiting for the doctor to confirm the losses of Luke and Bunny. I've stood graveside and lowered an urn with Puff's ashes and his and Luke's memorial blankets. There is a stone-cold marker commemorating my babies in a grave in Georgia. I still have days that seem scented with a bitter perfume.
The fifth verse soars into a glorious statement of the "happily ever after," but it means so much more coming after the third verse.
Glorious now behold Him arise,
King and God and Sacrifice
Alleluia, Alleluia!
Sounds through the earth and skies.
Even this verse speaks to the fact that this baby is a King, this baby is God...but this baby is a Sacrifice, born to die. This baby, though, rises. This King gives Himself on behalf of His beloved. This sacrifice fully atones for the sins of the whole world. Because of the truths in these two verses, I remember that I have a God who truly understands the fourth verse. I remember that He sees me and loves me as I am, enough to send His Son so that pain of sin and loss may be temporary, so that I can have hope to see all of my children again.
The holidays have been hard, I won't lie. This Christmas was easier than last year, but not by much. I am so grateful to the friends who took time out to ask me how I was and wanted an honest answer. I am grateful to the people who didn't ignore, didn't forget, didn't give platitudes or gloss over how much this season hurts. I am grateful to those who saw me going ever so slightly insane this year and rode it out. "We Three Kings" may not seem to quite fit in with the other, often more popular, kids on the Christmas Carol playground. This year, I didn't feel like I quite fit in during the holidays either. But there is hope.
And so we move down the path, remembering our babies who died, remembering a baby born to die and live again. One step at a time.
I think the true power in this song is only revealed when you sing all the verses. So why don't we? Let's be honest, that fourth verse is kinda creepy.
Myrrh is mine: it's bitter perfume
Breathes a life of gathering gloom.
Sorrowing, sighing, bleeding, dying
Sealed in a stone-cold tomb.
Not exactly what we like to think about at Christmas. Call me morbid, but having lost three children, I have a much greater appreciation for this verse. It calls us to remember that this baby isn't just a cute, cuddly baby. This baby is the King of kings. But that doesn't mean He won't face hardship. This baby brings about our "happily ever after," but the story certainly has it's dark plot points. We can't look at this baby and forget the cross. This verse speaks to me in a way it didn't before. I feel like I can relate to the "sorrowing, sighing, bleeding, dying" bits...it resonates strongly with how I felt after the deaths of Puff, Luke, and Bunny. I've felt the "gathering gloom" waiting for the doctor to confirm the losses of Luke and Bunny. I've stood graveside and lowered an urn with Puff's ashes and his and Luke's memorial blankets. There is a stone-cold marker commemorating my babies in a grave in Georgia. I still have days that seem scented with a bitter perfume.
The fifth verse soars into a glorious statement of the "happily ever after," but it means so much more coming after the third verse.
Glorious now behold Him arise,
King and God and Sacrifice
Alleluia, Alleluia!
Sounds through the earth and skies.
Even this verse speaks to the fact that this baby is a King, this baby is God...but this baby is a Sacrifice, born to die. This baby, though, rises. This King gives Himself on behalf of His beloved. This sacrifice fully atones for the sins of the whole world. Because of the truths in these two verses, I remember that I have a God who truly understands the fourth verse. I remember that He sees me and loves me as I am, enough to send His Son so that pain of sin and loss may be temporary, so that I can have hope to see all of my children again.
The holidays have been hard, I won't lie. This Christmas was easier than last year, but not by much. I am so grateful to the friends who took time out to ask me how I was and wanted an honest answer. I am grateful to the people who didn't ignore, didn't forget, didn't give platitudes or gloss over how much this season hurts. I am grateful to those who saw me going ever so slightly insane this year and rode it out. "We Three Kings" may not seem to quite fit in with the other, often more popular, kids on the Christmas Carol playground. This year, I didn't feel like I quite fit in during the holidays either. But there is hope.
And so we move down the path, remembering our babies who died, remembering a baby born to die and live again. One step at a time.
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