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.
Friday, September 30, 2016
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)