Trying to have a baby that lives

time to move on

2007-10-23T16:31:00.000-07:00

it felt like time for a change. either i'd kill this blog off completely by slowly starving it of writing and readers or i'd find a new place and a new angle and a new reason to write this shit down. once i found a title, i found a reason for its being.
so here
it is.

still here

2007-09-13T16:18:00.001-07:00

Where to begin? I miss blogging but I cant seem to find the time or to devote my little bit of free time to it. Having three kids is like playing whack-a-mole; two are down, one pops up, three are up, one is down, you get the idea. Somebody is always up. Often all three are “up” and they all want something right now. Its exhausting. I should give up ever having time to myself. This is where hired help comes in. I am all for having as much help as one can afford. My martyr, we shouldn’t spend the money days are over. As a wise girlfriend used to say, “get off the cross, somebody needs the wood.”

I’m writing this while LG (the baby) is screaming. She tends to wake up 40 minutes into a given nap for no apparent reason. My other daughter did this too. Just realized other daughters initials are ME. That is so appropriate. Turns out the sleep sorceress didn’t solve all of our problems and I spend a few weeks OBSESSING over every single nap. Things deteriorated until I finally swaddled her butt up again and then she finally started napping again. That was short-lived. Just as well because many of her days are spent getting in and out of the car as we drop off LA (my 6 year old son). I cant seem to come up with good identifying, short names for these kids for the purpose of the blog. Anyway the other day: get 3 kids out door, two of them, ready for school (clothed, teeth brushed, shoes on, lunches and snacks made, baby ready,) LA too school at 8 (siblings in tow), kill time, ME to school at 9, off to chiropractor to fix my neck which is killing me from side-lying, co-sleeping), home at 10:45, no time for nap in basket, out at 11:15 to get LA, kill time, ME at 1:00, home. This crazy schedule has kept me up many a night trying to figure out how it would work and how LG would sleep in the process. I have long been a believer in proper naps at home, not on my person.

So that what we’ve been up to. Its working out better than I thought it would. Guess i catastrophized so much that the reality of the situation isn’t as bad as I’d imagined. It helps a lot that LG is so darn cute and SWEET. She is not the best napper and likes to wake up on the hour at night sometimes but all things considered the best single word descriptor of her is SWEET. She smiles from ear to ear and coos and squeaks. This time around, on my third baby, I really looked forward to the smiles. The first three months were pretty hellish and I was closer to the edge of a bottomless, hopeless pit of depression than I’ve ever been in my life. It doesn’t matter that I wanted this baby so very much, the reality is that not sleeping makes you crazy, miserable, depressed, hopeless, resentful, you name it.

I’m still not sleeping much. A typical night involves LG down for the night at 7, up at 1 or so (sometimes 2, lately more like 11), then up again at 3 or so and frequently up again at 4 and 5 and 6. She is sleeping right next to me. This is part of the problem. How can she be expected tosleep with her face right next to my bulging breasts? Trouble is if I just sleep and nurse at the same time, I don’t wake up as much as if I had to get her from her basket and put her back (or get RM to do it?) this is where “the truest thing ever said about parenting comes into play.” Listen up: there are actually two very true things. One is: with kids, its either pay now or pay later.” 6 years into parenting, man is that true. The other one is this little gem: “With kids, the days are long, the years are short.”
So very, very true. I digress.

I’m still reading blogs for news of new parents, babies getting ready to be born, and babies being made. I am really enjoying the new parents blogs especially Jennifer and bri. I just don’t seem to be able to do one of my own. Blogging for me was a way to express my angst and fury and terror and have compassionate wise women bear witness and weigh in. I guess I don’t need it anymore but I do miss it. I don’t think I have the energy to write a parenting blog that will be worth my while. I need the angst or the controversy or something interesting.

There are lots of interesting things that happen with three kids and with my own personal journey. Yesterday my three-year-old asked, on her way to preschool, “when we die, will we be back together?” when I asked “will who be back together?” she named herself and her brother and baby sister. Woah.

LA and ME love their sister. Over 3 months into it, they think she’s the greatest. They STORM up the stairs to see her first rolling over, they delight in her doing grabbing her blanket or inadvertently whacking them in the head. They operate on her with their doctor kit, they stamp her with a stamper, they dance and sing for her, they talk to her in saccharine-sweet, high-pitched voices, they fight over who gets to sit closest to her. It’s pretty cute.

Time to get back to it. Robbing peter to pay paul. Day in. Day out.

Return from newborn hell

2007-07-23T21:48:00.000-07:00

I think I am out of newborn hell. My computer is on and i am attmepting a post for the firsttime in weeks. i've been busy jiggling, swaddling, shhshing, bouncing, reswaddling, and basically carrying a baby that only wants to slept when she is being held. all this while trying to care for my two other kids. we had two weeks of getting out early to take my son to camp. it was hell. hmm. how to get two kids dressed, fed, teeth brushed (my teeth are optional), shoes on, lunches made, my own self dressed and fed a little but not cafeinated sadly, while dealing with a fussy baby and out the door by 8:30. into the car, out of the car, back in then out again. repeat later on all with ababy who criesthru it all some days. it sucked. carrying her all day was a drag. trying to pump breastmilk when i am off dairy? maybe impossible. no creature comforts happening.

fortunately i still had the phone number of the sleep consultant that we used when my first daughter wouldnt sleep. the sleep consultant/sorceress has changed our lives i think. she said thet LS needs al that holding because we've taught her to need it. one day later i am putting her down awake and unswaddled and walking away. walking. not tiptoeing, hoping for three minutes before she starts wailing. so far it is working. amen. more on that later. i may have gotten an easy baby after all. ironic that it may have been me making her into a difficult baby.

LS is 8 weeks old tomorrow. it's been a whirlwind. she is just starting to smile. she smiles heartily at picture frames and the blinds. not so much at us but soon i'm sure. i am already enjoying her more now that i am not frantically trying to get her to sleep or figuring out how to do what i need do to do while holding her.

LS had a tiny pink spot on her head when she was born. i asked the pediatrician in the hospital, "that's not going to turn out to be a hemangioma is it?" we both shook it off as me being jaded and paranoid. turns out i was right. that tiny pink spot has grown into a bright red, angry looking mass that is approaching the size of a dime, right on the top of her forehead, just into her hairline. it's growing pretty quickly and is likely to keep growing for six months to a year. after that it will ikely start to involute or go back in. by age 3 or 5 it may be nearly gone.

its a mass of blood vessels basically i guess. i lose some sleep over how big it is going to get. its a drag to wonder what people think when they see it. kids always ask, adults almost never do, even my friends.

on the one had, i am so grateful that she is here, perfectly healthy and beautiful. i know that we are so very lucky. period.

on the other hand, i am bummed to be dealing with this. i try to refocus my attention on the rest of her adorable self that i just want to inhale and be amazed at. perhaps its a good lesson for me to not focus on the negative, the one thing that isnt quite right. (she also has an umbilical hernia that is huge and her protruding belly button looks like the top of the shaft of a penis. seriously. it will apparently heal itself as the small hole in her ab muscles close up; she may end up with a serious outie belly button. there is very very very little chance of complications from this situation).

our peditrician said to leave the hemangioma on her head alone, it will take care of itself in two, three years or so. i am having trouble staying resolved to do that. a person (trainee, resident? at a specialist's office said to leave it alone; we only talked on the phone. i have an appt there in two months where they will probably say the same thing unless it takes a turn for the worse.

i am struggling with the hemangioma situation. big picture, it doesnt matter. little picture, its a drag. dealing with people's reactions or lack of reaction that they must be having inside. what gets me the most is wondering how big it will get. i am guessing about the size of a quarter and big and blood-blistery looking. i worry about it at night sometimes and the next morning when i see her, it almost always looks smaller than it seemed in the middle of the night. her hair might cover it up a little unless it gets so tall that it sticks out from the hair. then again my elder daughter still hasnt had her bangs cut and she is three. she has been basically bald until recently.

not sure what else to say here. she is gorgeous and sweet and i am crazy about her. time for bed. i wonder if anyone is still reading.

oh and just so you know, people who emailed for her name. i only responded to the people i "know" because i thought what is the point of keeping a confidential blog if i email her name to complete strangers. it doesnt really make sense and what difference does it make if you know her name but the why did i keep all of our names confidential. anyway i am sorry that i didnt respond to the lurkers who emailed for her name. i appreciated the interest and i felt like somewhat of a tool about it.

Where have all the widgets gone?

2007-06-25T16:58:00.000-07:00

I had a few minutes to do a little housecleaning so I took down my tickers and widgets. (No danger of me doing any real housecleaning.) My blog looks so.... black without them. It's bittersweet to be done growing a baby. I'll never, ever do it again. I feel a little sad about that. But it feels GREAT to box up my maternity clothes! Can't wait to drop those off at the secondhand store.

Still here

2007-06-25T16:44:00.000-07:00

I’m here. I won’t stop writing. Where else would I do all my complaining? Why, to my husband of course. Poor guy.

I’ve got lots of things to say and no time to say them. I remember the ol’ “okay I have a sleeping baby, do I have one minute to work with or three hours, what should I do first?” Things are different this time around because when I achieve that sleeping baby state I am likely to walk out of the sleeping baby room and run smack into a little boy that needs me to find the sword that his playmobil guy dropped when his sister bumped into him in the driveway. Okayyy, that doesn’t seem important to me, wouldn’t have made my list of the top 500 things I’d like to do with one minute or three hours.

Suddenly I am #4 on the list of people whose needs need to be met. Poor rocket man. He comes in last and he’s got all FOUR of us on his list before him. But he does get to get into his car everyday and drive the hell away from us for many, many hours. Thank god or otherwise he might try to leave all of us in the wilderness. Or he might pull a cartoon-action move where he flees the house, leaving a rocket man shaped hole in the door.

The baby is doing great. I marvel over her very existence constantly. I can hardly believe that she is here. Her brother and sister LOVE her. She is just starting to notice us. I imagine that she is thinking something like, "Okay, you people again, I get it." She is still sleeping most of the time, double-swaddled, looking like a tiny sarcophagus.

MOST IMPORTANT THING TO LEARN ABOUT NEWBORNS, BEFORE YOU LEAVE THE HOSPITAL: a good swaddle, scratch that. An EXCELLENT swaddle. If your swaddle sucks, despite your best efforts, then get the Kiddopotamus. It’s a little fleecy, Velcro contraption that goes over the blanket swaddle. All three of our kids have really dug the swaddle. And the swaddled combined with the little foam positioners that keep them from rolling over? Even better. And put the baby’s head up against the bumper or whatver. I have a burp rag making a bumper in my moses basket. She loves it.

Ooh my new favorite thing I have discovered: wearing a bra in the shower so my nipples, which feel like hamburger meat by the way, are protected from the piercing-feeling of the water. Otherwise I have to cover them with my hands which is both difficult and impractical. A tank bra works great. It is a little disorienting though and I often feel like there is a good chance that I have forgotten to take off my underwear.

I bought a tube top (the belly tube) at mimi maternity and wondered why the hell I spent my money on that? I thought I might use it to girdle my belly a little but I am using it in the shower for a bra and, even better, at night so I just have to pull it down to access a boob and the rest of the night it collects the milk that leaks out.

What else? I’m giving the baby, when I remember, lactobacillus to help her digestion and avoid the dreaded “3-5 a.m. grunting, squeaking, longest attempt to crap in recorded history.” I don’t know if it helps. Three a.m. was also a bad time for my other two. More on that later when i can complete a thought.

One of my kids has just returned from his last outing with my dad, who leaves TOMORROW AFTER SLAVING AWAY ON MY BEHALF FOR THE LAST SIX MONTHS. The other has just gotten up from her nap and is about to tell me that she is hungry. Gotta run.

Where to go from here?

2007-06-10T11:28:00.000-07:00

So… what do I do now? I will be faithfully reading your blogs, waiting for each of you in turn to have your long-awaited happy endings. I will also be reading about the new babies and how things are going in life-after-the-big-day.

I am trying to decide what to write about here. Maybe… how it feels weird to have finally had the long-awaited baby. This journey to live baby has been such a huge part of my life. What do I do now? Where will I place all of my free-floating anxiety?

Should I write about the birth in detail? As incredible as LS’s arrival was, I’ve been lamenting the parts that didn’t go well, like being in tremendous pain for days and not being able to get a handle on it despite everything I’ve learned about questioning medical professionals and advocating for myself. I’m tempted to give advice to those of you whose births are yet to come.

I also wonder if any of you feel guilty that you were disappointed in your birth even though the baby is beautifully perfect and healthy. Do I just need something to complain about or am I afraid that was my last chance to be taken care of as a new mom and I blew it by not being pro-active enough?

Does everybody have birth disappointment to deal with? I don’t remember having much with Thing 1 and Thing 2. I didn’t want to leave the hospital they took SUCH good care of me.

Is somebody going to tell me to fuck off because I am complaining again ALREADY? I hope not because I am a little emotional already.

I could write a bit about being bummed that RM’s time at home is over. After our stay in the hospital and one short week at home, which he had to use vacation days for, RM is back to work tomorrow. I will have help for a few more weeks, thank God, but his leave time has ended. I was hoping that we, the five of us, would have some relaxing and even idyllic (what a fool I am), moments reveling in our new family member. Dumb.

I KNOW very well that I have a problem with high expectations and the nearly inevitable disappointment that follows. I tried to be realistic about RM’s leave time. For the most part it was hectic and frustrating and stressful. There was always something that needed to be done and rarely time to just hang out. The free moments that we did have were at let’s see… a pool party where RM juggled two non-swimmers, one who was constantly bitching about the splashing and the other who needed to jump into the pool at least 50 times with zero ability to keep herself afloat. I was busy with LS who has snapped out of her constant slumber in favor of constant nursing interspersed with fussing. Then Thing 1 fell on the stairs and scraped himself up, producing an EPOCH hysterical fit that lasted 20 minutes. He didn’t care at all that all of his tball buddies, were watching from the pool where there were swimming independently. I am so glad that he wasn’t ashamed of his fit or his non-swimming at nearly age six but still. He wears a big, spiderman suit/flotation device.

It was a pretty stressful party, partly because I was so stressed at what a shitty time RM was having. Between the two of us, we don’t handle much without one of us getting worked up. We need to get a collective grip in order to survive having three kids, especially if we ever want to have a decent time. It might help to remember that they wont be little forever and what a special time this is. It would help more to hire a part-time nanny.

I could write about breastfeeding and the importance of a good latches. HUGE! But a blog about parenting and breastfeeding and other such things? I’d have to change the title and probably the black background. Would anybody read that? I have learned a thing or two about being a parent but still.

I could finish the story of LC’s birth and the next deadbabydisaster but is that what I want to focus on? Probably not.

I could write about how I wish I could be more grateful and focus on the myriad good things in my life instead of the disappointing things. That’s not to say that I am not thrilled that our baby arrived safely. I am awe-struck by her and Things 1 and 2 are loving her and basically everything is going well.

It’s just that I have always been a glass-half-empty person. Actually it’s more like why-didn’t-somebody-help-me-fill-the-glass. No that’s too whiny. It’s more like the-glass-is-half-empty-and-I-am-taking-it-personally. I’m probably not making sense. What’s the situation with your “glasses”?

Hmm. I am tired of being disappointed by people in my life. On the outside I am tough and irreverent and outspoken. On the inside, really deep down, I am fragile and I take everything personally and I let the things that are missing or lacking overshadow the many gifts I have been given. It’s time for me to grow the hell up but I don’t know how to do it. It takes something like the fulfillment of my heart’s desire (LS’s arrival) and finding that I am still the same person who dwells on the negative to make me see, once again, how much I need to learn about grace.

It’s not enough to read about the struggles of others; that produces only temporary gratitude. How does one really become a grateful person who sees and feels the positive in life? Is there a book? A mantra? A tattoo? A… church??!! An upbringing? Is it too late for me? Electroshock therapy?

I want to set a good example for my kids. I want to bring my husband up instead of down. I want my obituary to say really nice things about me that are completely true. I want to find grace or for it to find me.

I hope this post isn't met with a big, fat silence.

Here she is!

2007-06-05T13:25:00.000-07:00

Here is my sweet girl! LS has been sleeping her tiny butt off. She pretty much sleeps all the time with short breaks for nursing and having a look around. I wonder what will happen when I go off the pain meds. Yikes. I am kind of, a little bit getting used to this. I do my thing and she sleeps in her Moses basket. Neither one of my other kids was this easy at one week of age.

One week. LS is one week old today. I really want to post her name. Her name is so beautiful. Email me at livebabyhopes@gmail.com if you really want to know her name.

Today is the first day that I am not in quite a lot of pain. Until today I've been on 2 percoset/every 6 hours around the clock. I hate the idea that she is getting some of that in my breastmilk but up until now I haven't felt like I've had a choice. Seems like it is time to suck it up a little, not that I am going to let myself suffer. No worries there. I am reminded of my friend Victoria's line, "Get off the cross woman, somebody needs the wood." Somebody needs the wood and I need to be relatively pain-free.

I'm still in full-on baby bliss here. She is so incredible. I marvel, when I get the chance, at every face she makes. I marvel at how, when her arms and hands go waving around, she looks like a tiny wizard casting a spell. Her butt is so small; it's pretty bony and red and saggy with extra skin that will soon be grown into. A butt only a mother could love.

She's incredible. My left boob is killing me. I'm hungry for some SOFT, gooey, possibly bacteria-or-whatever-the-hell-laden CHEESE!!

At last, some quality time with my computer

2007-06-04T19:33:00.000-07:00

I have just turned on my computer for the first time since the baby's birth. I apologize for the lack of an update. There was no internet access at the hospital and I needed RM's help constantly since I couldn't do anything besides nurse the baby.

The baby (LS-I feel weird about posting her name since I haven’t posted my other two kids’ names) is perfectly perfect in every way! She is teeny tiny and so beautiful. We brought her home from the hospital on Saturday afternoon and were welcomed with signs, balloons, streamers, and a crew of family and neighbors. I've waited so very long for the day when we would bring a baby to this home. It was everything i hoped it would be and more. Leaving the hospital with her in the backseat was quite a moment!

For her first two days at home, little LS decided she wouldn't nap unless she was being held. So RM and I were holding her constantly. We were a little scared of the newfound bad habit and I had flashbacks from three months of carrying my older daughter in a sling all day. Thanks to the advice of a friend, she is now sleeping in her Moses basket and freeing us up to take showers and check email. Whew. She is sleeping great at night! It's way too early to make the call but so far she has been quite mellow.

My kids are overjoyed with their baby sister. We were taking bets on when they would want her to be returned to the hospital. My almost-five year old son surprised us by being the first to request that we return her. She was only home for two hours when he announced that he no longer wanted a baby sister!! I think we've recovered from that and my daughter shows zero signs of waning enthusiasm. One of my favorite moments was, at the hospital, my daughter was admiring LS she said, "Can I live with her?"

RM is keeping busy taking care of all four of us. My recovery has been alot more painful than I expected so I am not much help. I have abandoned the couch in favor of RM's new chair; much more comfortable for nursing and a welcome change of scenery.

My dad has gone on a well-deserved vacation with my mom and will return in 2 weeks. They'll stay for a week and then return to life as they knew it before we launched Operation Get Baby Here Safely.

The birth was as wonderful as a C-section can be. I got to listen to my "Delivery Mix" on the ipod which kept me in a happy place as the surgery got underway and while I got stitched up. (My doctor was able to remove the cerclage so I won't have to go back for another epidural and surgery to remove it- thank God!!) The C-section is a pretty weird way to go; pretty clinical and scary. Fortunately I had RM and Charlotte holding my hand and it wasn't long before I heard that beautiful cry that I'd been waiting for. Then I joined in with a huge snotty cry of my own. The baby's cry sounded like a cat's. She was loud enough to reassure me but not so loud that i wondered if we'd have another holy terror on our hands. She was put on my chest after a few minutes and I got to admire her close-up as she pretty much went back to sleep! Amazing!

Our five days in the hospital were harder than I had expected. I've been in alot more pain than after previous C-sections; I have heard that this might happen with subsequent surgeries. Months of bedrest are probably contributing to my discomfort There were several missteps with my pain medication which didn't help my case at all. That part was a bummer but having a beautiful, sleeping baby to marvel at made it all better. At least we got a nice, big room and plenty of quiet time in between visits from our kids! We also had long-awaited meals of the best sushi ever, lox bagels, and champagne and caviar!! Yum!

It still seems a little surreal. LS sleeps so much, for now, that I need to go and look at her every now and then. When she actually wakes up, I marvel over her very existence all over again. She is so tiny but so much a little person. She looks around, looks at me for a few seconds, her little arms go waving around. She is just incredible. It’s even more fun to have her brother and sister sharing the incredibleness. They’re all, “Look, she touched my arm” or “Look, she yawned!” It’s a whole different experience with two of them. Not that it isnt challenging to have to reign them in as they try to wake her up, touch her eyes, elbow me in the boob as I am nursing her, etc. I will definitely be cherishing my time alone with her.

There is so much more to say but I’d figure I’d get this up for now. I’ll put up a picture in the next day or so.

Redemption

2007-05-30T20:58:00.000-07:00

Charlotte here from dosmamas posting at WTF’s request. First of all IT’S ALL GOOD. I don’t know what I am going to say…I’m still in an altered state after the birth and I am nervous to fill WTF’s writing shoes. Her wit and gritty realism are effortless. Anyhoo, she wants me to post about the birth on her behalf, so here goes, but first I must say thank you to them. I must get very mushy and tell WTF and her husband that I am blessed a million times over to have witnessed their darkest and most joyful experiences, to be their friends, and to accept their graciousness as they help us create new life for our family. OK, onto Tuesday.

Baby L is beautiful, and a whopping 6 lbs 4 oz, the biggest baby EVER in the WTF Rocket Man clan (they ARE now a clan, or a troupe, or something). We all kept expressing our disbelief at this LARGE baby. Heh. She looks just like their son, and is perfectly perfect in every way.

PTSD & THE LAST TIME

The last time I was at that hospital was to help them deliver LC (deadbaby). I experienced a bit of PTSD after that birth, so I started having flashbacks the moment I set foot in the parking lot of the hospital.

WTF in a hospital bed. The Lobby. The waiting room where I wept to my wife and my mom. Passing the nurse who helped us bathe WTF in alcohol and fan her 106 degree body. The room where she gave birth (of course without the small red rose they had taped to her door which meant “this baby will die: don’t say congratulations”).

Rocket Man and I overheard Fancy doc explain WTFs situation to the doctor who arrived to assist him in the C section. When he got to the part about WTF’s uterine infection, he said “she almost lost her life”, and I felt like I got punched in the throat. She did. She really almost died last year. Thank god it was sunny and daytime and not a stormy, rainy, scary hell night from hell. No, it was happy, lovely and entirely different. But WTF needed to hear her baby cry, before she could believe this was really going to happen.

GETTING READY

I was so excited. Rocket Man and I got to wear *scrubs*. SCRUBS! It was totally thrilling (I am easily entertained). But my excitement was soon dashed, when WTF said I looked like a LUNCH LADY. She then had a ginormous belly laugh when I exclaimed “WHY do I look like the lunch lady while Rocket Man looks like a surgeon???”. I think you had to be there, seeing us both in our weird blue paperfabric scrubs including blue paperfabric shower caps, to appreciate the hilarity. I digress.

Rocket Man and I waited for 15 minutes outside the OR, while WTF got her epidural and got sliced open. We waited in a chair similar to the chairs that Rocket Man has waited in before, twice, for their other two kids. He started getting nervous. Rocket Man is so solid, it is strange to see him vulnerable. He kinda looked like a lunch lady too, until he put on his surgical mask. I was happy he wasn’t sitting there alone.

Waiting, waiting, waiting. Suddenly the door opened (just like Rocket Man said it would), and we were SPEEDILY ushered in (just like Rocket Man said we would) and it was ON.

REDEMPTION

We were all there. Almost. The original crew from Little Charlotte’s birth, ready.

1. The fabulous nurse who helped us all emotionally and medically. Nurse Kickass, I’ll call her. She has this way of petting a forehead that just makes you feel like everything will be okay in the end. Thank the stars for her. She pulled a double shift and slept at the hospital to be there for this birth.

2. Fancy Doc. How can I describe this man? 60ish. Short. Cocky. Kind. He showed up wearing some yellow tinted sunglasses one would find on a 20 year old, and brown leather shoes you would find on a gay man. He has an accent. Where the hell is he from? Germany? I think so. Anyway he’s a character, and his scrubs were very form fitting. Oh, and he’s really THE BEST at what he does.

3. Rocket Man. Dear lord this man is calm. He has to be, to be married to WTF, but still. I have grown to love him as I witness his unending love for WTF. He was sitting to my right, and we were both next to WTF’s head, behind the sterile field fabric (you’ve seen this on medical TV show right?)

4. Me. This was the third birth I have been at. Four if you count my son’s birth. My very first C section. I was the video person. That was my job. I did an OK job, all things considered. But I was so incredibly present in the moment, and worried about holding WTF’s hand at all times, so I was not as focused on the video as I could have been.

After much cutting, tugging, pulling, yanking and more cutting, she was born. Baby L. Rocket Man and I stood up and witnessed her emergence. Unbelievable. WTF needs to post herself about what it was like for her...I can only imagine.

I will post on my site this week about how gory and fascinating it was to see WTF’s uterus lifted onto her stomach, sewn up, and put back in (and her cerclage successfully removed). What a miracle the whole thing was. For anyone who wonders if a scheduled C section is any less miraculous than a vaginal birth, let me tell you (having seen both) that IT WAS JUST AS FUCKING AMAZING.

Within reason, WTF got everything she wanted: two people present for her C section, her own music playing during the whole thing, a big private room, and finally, at last, a scream.

A live baby put right on her chest.

Redemption.

100th post

2007-05-27T14:57:00.001-07:00

I sent this email to family and friends today. Figured I’d post it also despite some redundancy.

"It's official. The amnio on Friday showed beautifully mature lungs. Tuesday morning at around 10 a.m. we will be meeting our daughter!

She's ready. I AM READY! Fancy doc is ready; this man, who is one of the best in the world with cerclages, has maintained excellent humor during all of my questioning and second-guessing. He says that he will miss me, as I am his most "entertaining" patient. He thinks I should keep the stitch in so we can have another baby. I tell him that if he wants to see me again that badly, we can have lunch.

The critical care nurse who took such good care of me when we lost LC, has switched off the night shift to do my C-section. This woman was so great that we sent her homemade cookies and a thank you note after the disaster. She has known my doctor for years and they are both very excited to see this journey come full circle with us.

Between my doctor and the critical care nurse we figure we can talk the anesthesiologist into making a few exceptions on our behalf. We plan to have my dear, dear friend, Charlotte, with us in the OR for the C-section; she was with us when LC was born and we are looking forward to a big, snotty cry together when we hear this baby scream! We'd also like to have some music; we've been unsuccessful in past attempts to convince the anesthesiologist to allow music. Fancy doc also said he would talk to the nurses about allowing me to hold the baby right after she gets wrapped up! In the past, I haven't held our babies until they were brought to the recovery room which is about an hour later. I had given up hope of holding the baby right away.

So it looks like this is really going to happen. Since the critical care nurse called to say that she was going to be there for my C-section, I've stopped wishing for early labor. Tuesday morning sounds great. I've waited this long, I can wait a few more days. Actually now it's less than 48 hours! Holy crap!

The hospital doesn't have internet access so nobody worry if you don't hear from us on Tuesday. At the same time I hate to leave anyone hanging after I've dragged you along on this tumultuous journey. We'll certainly make some phone calls but we'll also want to just be in the moment enjoying getting to know our daughter. Maybe Rocket Man can get an email off from a nearby coffee shop on Tuesday night. Once again I am baffled by the failings of modern technology, cell phones, crackberry and all. We'll really try to send an email by Wednesday p.m.

My son and daughter will be meeting their baby sister early Tuesday afternoon. Imagining that epoch event has sustained me through some worrisome times.

I'm signing off now to work on my "to-do-before-we-go-have-the-baby-on-Tuesday" list. Pretty standard stuff. Sterilize baby bottles and breast pump parts, pack up the cameras, try to get RM to install bicycle hooks on the garage ceiling so we can make some room in there. That last one is a little nutty. Call me irrational. I call it biological imperative.

I also need to have some carefully staged last-minute, giant belly photos taken. Absolutely no double chins, squishy arms, or excessive love handlage allowed. No small task indeed.

Thanks again for riding with us on this can't-even-come-up-with-the-right-adjective journey. Someday I'll probably wonder why I shared so much, okay too much, information with all of you nice people. For now I will take comfort in knowing that I did it because I needed to.

Fondly,”

WTF

It’s a go

2007-05-25T17:13:00.000-07:00

Well the amnio results came back and the lungs are beautifully mature. The amnio was a piece of cake. The first of two test results came in before I even got off the fetal monitor. The second set came a few hours later.

So it looks like we’ll be meeting our daughter on Tuesday morning at around 10 a.m. Unless I go into labor sooner. I am really starting to believe that we are going all the way to the appointment. I’ve thought for so long that I wouldn’t make it that far. I can’t help but feel that way when I feel so much pressure and strain on the stitch.

So it’s Friday afternoon and we have a three-day weekend between now and the delivery. Woah. Tomorrow, we have two birthday parties for the kids and a block party with neighbors. A visit with friends on Sunday morning. Some last minute nesting business. Time to move the dresser/changing table out of my daughter’s room into our room. Time to move the rocking chair also but I’m not sure how my daughter will handle that. Breastfeeding gear needs to be sterilized. We need to choose a CD; music to be born to, tough call.

I put tiny baby clothes in the dresser yesterday. Diapers have been purchased. Stacks of burp cloths and blankets are ready to go. My bag for the hospital is almost packed. Big brother and sister gifts have been purchased. Fancy doc’s cashmere scarf needs to be ironed so it will uncurl. Cameras need to be charged up.

The hospital doesn’t have internet access. Hmm. I’m not sure how and when I’ll get a post up. Don’t worry if the news doesn’t come on Tuesday. We’ll be trying to balance being in the moment and making phone calls, sending emails, etc. I could have Charlotte post for me when she gets home but I already feel like I want to be the one to post the news. Thoughts? Suggestions? Personal experiences?

I have a similar dilemma with family and friends. Lots of people will be anxious for the news. However, I would rather share the news on the phone than through email. Not with everybody of course. I guess we’ll just see how it goes and we’ll make whatever calls we feel like making the first day. I guess we should probably have an email out by the end of the day? I don’t know. It’s much more fun to share the news on the phone but I don’t want to spend the day on the phone. I don’t plan to ever do this again and I want to enjoy every second of it. Hmmm. Nice problem to have, for sure.

One week to go

2007-05-22T12:02:00.000-07:00

Today I am a little paranoid. Lately I’ve been worrying about things that can still go wrong. The cycle started this weekend when Rocket man and I went off for a little R&R or, I should say, pampering and decadence. It was a really lovely weekend and most of the time I felt like we were reveling in the last days of this pregnancy.

I started to worry when we got to the spa for our massages. This was the same spa/hotel where we stayed shortly before we lost LC. Back then I was big and pregnant and we were loving our two nights in a fancy hotel. I had a massage, pedicure and facial at the hotel’s fabulous spa. I had recently had my emergency cerclage put in so I was on modified bedrest but I was resting at a beautiful hotel. Disaster struck a week later, right after Christmas. Looking back at our time at the hotel, I had no clue of course what was coming my way.

So this weekend we went back to the same spa. It hadn’t really occurred to me that I could do without the trip down memory lane. When I caught a glimpse of myself in the robe with my big old belly, walking out of the locker room, it took me back to walking that path just before the disaster.

I was doing okay with it until halfway through my massage. I was laying on my stomach, which was supported by a big, foam belly support. I was really comfortable and loving being on my stomach, getting my back massaged. And then I started worrying. My belly was pressing against the table. The supports didn’t leave the belly suspended so there was pressure on it. I started to wonder what if I squashing the umbilical cord. Cord compression for 30 minutes? Could that cause brain damage? Was it reasonable to think that the cord could’ve been compressed by me laying on it? Did I need to start worrying about discovering brain damage at birth? Too late, I was already there. Kind of took some of the fun out of the rest of the massage.

At this point, I am still worried. Not so much specifically about the possible cord compression but about anything that could go wrong at this point. It’s like I am on guard, wondering if something awful will happen. I’ve heard so many horrific stories about full-term births that go horribly awry without warning. I know that something could still go wrong or be wrong with the baby.

I don’t want to worry about this but being at the same spa reminded me of how completely clueless I was about the shock I was in for. There’s no way I could’ve seen that coming. There’s no way to ever see it coming but having been there I can’t help but try to spot the danger.

I’ve been shocked so many times. By two surprise 11-week deadbaby ultrasounds, by a “surprise you’ll probably lose your baby blood clot”, by a disappearing cervix, and most of all by the infection that forced delivery of LC at 23 weeks. Is there another shock coming? I know that no amount of disaster protects us from another one.

What if there is something wrong with her that will be discovered at birth? What if our happy ending doesn’t come? This is my last shot at this? Three tries for our third. That’s all I’ve got.

It helps to think about my kids. When I think about how excited they are, I have to believe in the happy ending. I can almost believe in it for them. Almost.

Maybe once I post this, it will be out of my system a little. I have one week, or less, of pregnancy left. I’d like to enjoy some of it. I really did enjoy a lot of the weekend. It was fun to be out in the world, waddling around dressed up with an enormous belly. Today I am too exhausted to have much fun but I have plans for the next few days that should be fun.

I’m officially off bedrest but I am quite limited by how uncomfortable I am. Gradually I am getting out and about. Hopefully I’ll get a little strength back. God knows I’ll be needing it.

The C-section is scheduled for 10 a.m. on Tuesday may 29th. Less than one week from right now. Fancy doc said he might not be able to get the cerclage out because there might be too much swelling. That wouldn’t surprise me, given how I feel downtown, but I wish he hadn’t told me that. I have ZERO interest in going back in a few months for another surgery, with epidural and all, to get this thing out. NO WAY am I keeping it in indefinitely. The infection from my first cerclage nearly killed me. NFW!! Fortunately I’ll have Charlotte, and a good anesthesiologist, to help me through the cerclage removal attempt that will follow the C-section.

Fancy said that the baby can go on my chest once she’s checked out and wrapped up. He will be a strong advocate for us and help us get the birth that we want. We’ll try for a third time to have some music playing. Charlotte will be with us. Fancy and the nurse that we liked so much will try to get us a double room. The stage is set for a full circle, happy ending. Now it just needs to happen.

13 days to go

2007-05-16T15:32:00.000-07:00

Assuming that the amnio on May 25th shows mature lungs, I’ll be meeting my daughter on Tuesday May 29th at approximately 10 a.m. 13 days from now. I’ll be 37 weeks, 5 days.

Given that my son was 6 lbs., 2 oz. at 38 ½ weeks and my daughter was 5 lbs, 14 oz at 39 weeks, I am expecting the baby will be quite small. Hopefully she’ll be big enough to breathe perfectly and latch on well.

I have some slight doubts about whether scheduling the delivery early, so fancy doc can do it, is the right thing to do. I know that he is the best person to take out my somewhat complicated cerclage so that’s a concern for my well-being. But mostly I want him to do it for sentimental reasons. He’ll be away from 38-39 ½ weeks and I don’t want to wait that long. I want to deliver before anything can go wrong and before I go into labor with a cerclage in, which could be quite painful.

Basically I am trying to justify doing the delivery early. I’m pretty much okay with it and am counting the days, the half days. I’d count the hours if I could do the math.

I am really starting to imagine hearing a crying baby. I’ve turned my attention to getting things ready at home, organizing, packing my stuff, planning when my kids will come and meet their little sister. I’m doing the normal things that people do when they are getting ready to have a baby. This might be the only part of my pregnancy that feels normal at all, aside from the bedrest and the discomfort.

I know that something could still go wrong but I don’t think about that much. However, I will breathe a major sigh of relief when all of her systems check out and she appears perfectly healthy.

Yesterday I called the nurse who took care of me when I was in intensive care during the big nightmare. She remembered me; I figured she would. She was so happy to hear that we were coming back soon to bring things full circle. She said she’d try to switch from the night shift so she could be present for the delivery. The nurses were so amazing. There are two others that I’d also like to see again. It’s pretty exciting to be thinking about the delivery and hospital stay. I am so looking forward to chilling in the hospital and marveling over the baby.

It doesn’t seem real that this is going to happen. With my other two kids, it didn’t really hit me until I heard them cry. It was only then that the baby seemed like a baby, a whole separate person and not a part of my body anymore.

This next paragraph is from an email that I sent to family and friends recently. It’s easier to explain that than try to make the font match.

"I can imagine hearing her first cry. I've been waiting for that moment since that awful day in December 2005 when my doctor told me that LC had to be delivered even though she was too little to live. There was a baby being born right across the hall at that very moment. Somehow when I was hearing that baby's first cries I was blessed with the certainty that that would be us again someday, hearing our baby cry for the first time. It must have been grace visiting me in that moment, helping me bear the utter heartbreak of it all. That faith has been with me all along, it's just been buried under a layer of terror in a futile effort to protect me from more grief."

On a sad note, I am so bummed that the dosmamas may be losing their baby. Aside from my personal involvement, it just completely sucks that this is happening to them. I hoped they would never lose their deadbabyvirginity. I find that I don’t know what to say despite all of my experience with dead babies and people who don’t know what to say about them. The trouble is that I want to make them feel better and that is simply not within my power. One of the best things anybody ever said to me was simply, “How’s today?” (Too bad that was Evil Shadow Pregnancy and she later bailed out of my life in a most spectacularly godawful way.)

Back to the mamas, I am selfishly bummed that Charlotte may be at my delivery full of sadness instead of joy. I know that she’ll be present and thrilled and all of that but I know that she’ll have mixed feelings. I wish for all of us that our birth could coincide with them being 10 weeks along and full of happiness.

I couldn’t seem to finish that thought. I needed a curse word but couldn’t find the right one. I am reminded of how it felt, described above, when we got the bad news about LC while the baby was being born across the hall. I can only wish for the mamas that they feel the certainty that I did that one day they’ll be hearing their baby cry for the first time. Without that faith, I would have been hopelessly lost, not that I didn’t feel hopelessly lost most of the time anyway.

On a happier note, I’ve got less than two weeks to enjoy my last pregnancy ever. Tomorrow I’ll see fancy doc and I expect to be released from bedrest. At 36 weeks the chance of a NICU admission has dropped significantly and I can wish for my water to break with a clear conscience. Hopefully I’ll last through the weekend however so Rocket Man and I can enjoy a night in the city, some serious spa treatments, and a couple of great meals. Lord knows we deserve the pampering and decadence.

13 days.

20 days to go

2007-05-08T20:06:00.000-07:00

Saw fancy doc today. He checked my cervix and he finally told me something that seems in line with what I’m feeling. He said that my cervix is softening and that he can feel the baby’s head pressing on the stitch. Yes, that makes sense. That’s why I feel like I’m carrying a bowling ball way down low and that it’s being held in only by a stitch in my cervix. Ouch.

I’m sure everybody in my life is tired of hearing me complain. Lord knows I am tired of it but bottom line is still that it really, really hurts. When I do lug my ass out of this couch, I can barely walk around. I stagger. I pant. I heave and groan. My uterus is constantly seized up with a contraction, especially when I am up and around. My left labia is throbbing and feels like it might explode (that’s kind of an unrelated gripe). When on the couch, now I need a pillow between my thighs and behind my back to ease the discomfort. Going to sleep has become something to face at the end of the day. I’m a wreck.

I am so damn uncomfortable. The medication is helping a little but not so much during the day. The contractions are pretty frequent during the day especially when I am up. At night, they still wake me up, four, five, six times a night. I dream about having one and then wake up in the middle of it. Funny how they say that you need to stay well-hydrated to minimize the contractions but a contraction on a full bladder….those are the worst. They are approaching labor contractions which can best be described, as far as I’m concerned, as feeling like a giant is wringing out the lower part of the uterus like a dishtowel. The pain is sharper and it lasts a good two minutes. I have trouble going back to sleep and then only to get woken up by another contraction.

I’m 35 weeks on Thursday, thank the lord. Fancy still hasn’t sprung me from bedrest, not that it matters much at this point. I can barely get around my house, let alone out and about.

At this point it’s all about the secondary gain. If I can hang in there for one more week (I can), then the chance of a NICU stay goes down by 40%. I didn’t come all this way, through nearly two years of hell and terror and deadbabies, to have to visit my daughter in the NICU or to have to her fed through a tube or a bottle because she’s too little to latch on properly. As it is, I’ll have to wait an hour to hold her while I get stitched up and she gets carted off to the nursery.

21 days. Almost 20 now because it’s 7 p.m. here.

I try to remind myself that I am doing this for my daughter. It’s hard to wrap my brain around that because until recently I haven’t believed that she would even live. It’s been hard to connect with her.

I’ve been going through a lot of baby clothes and that has helped me to imagine a baby in them. A live baby. The kind that comes home in a carseat. Not a box of ashes. I think I’m really getting there; that is, I am pretty optimistic everything will be okay and three weeks from this morning I’ll be meeting the baby I waited so long for.

34 weeks, 5 days and I am just now believing that she is going to be okay. Not that I don’t think about things that could go wrong from here. But I don’t think about them much. She has to be okay. I have little choice but to believe that.

I packed some clothes for her to come home in. Teeny, tiny ones for 5-7 lb. babies. They are so darn cute. I need to pick a CD for the C-section. I need to pack my stuff.

I am looking forward to the birth obviously and then the PEACE AND QUIET of the hospital. After we had our daughter, it was like being on vacation. It’s a great hospital. The nurses were so great we didn’t want to leave after either of our kids was born. Hell, the nurses were so great, we sent them cookies and a thank-you note even after we had a dead baby. Now that’s sayin’ somethin’.

I can hardly wait to have my body back, sort of, and to not be in pain anymore. I’ve had three C-section surgeries (1st was to remove a fibroid) and I would gladly swap that discomfort for this. At least pain meds can take away incision pain; this pain and discomfort is round the clock and really can’t be relieved except by having the baby and it’s been weeks. C-section?! Bring it on. Except not yet.

20 days. 20 days. 20 days. Almost 19 and that’s in the teens. Less than three weeks. 20 days. 20 days. 20 days til I meet my daughter.

Off the ledge, again

2007-05-02T10:11:00.000-07:00

Okay, okay I’m back. Sanity and equilibrium have been restored. Two nights of sleep helps also. A good talk with Charlotte (at dosmamas) and a heart-to-heart with fancy doc and we’re back in business.

Let’s just say I was sleep-deprived for one. Waking up at 1 with really painful contractions that kept me up, panting, worrying, experiencing aftershocks, having more contractions really sucked. I would stay up til 5 or so, read myself back to sleep and then get some rest until 8 or so, in between more contractions. I seriously felt like I was in early labor, FOR DAYS. My lower back hurt, I had period-like cramps, I could barely walk around without staggering. It wasn’t pretty. Still isn’t actually.

I saw fancy doc on Monday. The non-stress test nurse confirmed that nighttime is, inexplicably, the worst time for contractions in women trying to hold off pre-term labor.

Not sleeping was making everything worse. That’s when I started to think, “let’s just have the baby already because I’ll get more sleep with a newborn and I wont be in so much pain, even with a c-section recovery."

After seeing fancy doc on Monday, I was convinced that I should take the procardia and I have had two decent sleeps. Ahhhh.

The procardia doesn’t seem to have much effect on my daytime contractions and I am still REALLY uncomfortable when I’m up and around. Maybe it takes a day or so to have an effect. At least it is helping at night.

In bigger news, WE HAVE A DELIVERY DATE!! If not sooner, then on Tuesday May 29th our daughter will be delivered by C-section, no doubt sometime in the morning. The baby will be 38 weeks minus two days. Fancy doc will do the delivery and leave, two days later, for wherever the hell he is going.

It really helps me to have an end in sight and a date on the calendar. Our previous plan was a little too uncertain. So on Friday May 25th we’ll do an amnio to check lung maturity. Fingers crossed for that. The baby will be 37 weeks, 1 day so hopefully her lungs will look ready.

The delivery is 27 days away. I can deal with 27 days. I can’t deal with "maybe we'll do it, maybe not, maybe a doctor I’ve never met will do it while fancy is away." True, the lungs might be ready but for now I’ll just believe that they will be.

I had another non-stress test and my traitor uterus produced one contraction. I had them constantly after I stood up and walked out of his office. Figures. Fancy did get to feel one and I at least got to here him say, “Yep. That’s a contraction.” As if.

Fancy believes that I am contracting like crazy. I think that’s why he agreed to schedule the delivery. Upon examination, my cervix still feels good. I am finally realizing that my cervix, despite how damn uncomfortable it feels to me, is going to continue to feel good to him until I am actually in labor. I have ceased to expect that he will ever frown and say “hmm” or anything like that. That stitch is so strong and it apparently is no match for even my worst contractions.

What else? Charlotte was able to remind me how much I don’t want to have my baby go straight to the NICU after her birth and that I don’t want to have to visit her there or bring her brother and sister in there and have to leave the hospital without her. After all of this, I at least want her to go straight to her daddy’s arms and then to me in the recovery room. I lost sight of that goal and I’ve got it back thankfully. I know how sad and disappointed I’d be with a stay in the NICU especially if I’d given up trying to avoid it.

I am just now wondering if she might have to go to the NICU at 37 weeks, 5 days. Hmm.

I’ve been so damn uncomfortable that my weekly outings are not much fun. I skipped last week’s preschool drop-off and mommy-and-me because I just didn’t have the strength or energy. I did go to a tball game but was really uncomfortable even in my stupid-ass lawnchair.
My outings, and the promise of future outings, were what was keeping me going. Getting off bedrest and being out and about was one of the carrots dangling in front of me. I was living for it actually. For that and a live baby.

Hopefully with some good sleeps and reduced contractions, I’ll be able to get up and out a little and celebrate the end of a LONG road. I had a beautiful shower with wonderful friends, I have incredible pictures of me and my big belly with my kids, I have some fond memories of my kids “playing” with their sister. I have a very busy little girl living inside of me who does not like having a laptop resting on her. Hopefully I can add a few more pleasant pregnant experiences and then be done with pregnancy FOREVER.

There are a few end-of-the-school-year festivities that I’d like to make it to. On Friday, my son will literally dance around a maypole with a bunch of other little people and then we will picnic. Can’t miss that. Next weekend is the preschool auction, the event of the year. I’ve been hoping to make it to that. There’s a beach day the week after. Not sure how I would traverse a sandy beach in this condition but some facetime with the big blue would do wonders for my frame-of-mind.

Then there will be my son’s “celebration” at school where he crosses the rainbow bridge, a metaphor for giving up his angel wings and choosing to be born to us. Oh jesus, crying already. Must not miss that. Actually it would be rescheduled if need be. There’s no way I’ll miss that if they have to wheel me in there on a stretcher.

So lots to look forward to in the next few weeks. And we have to get ready for the baby. Time to wash some tiny clothes. Holy crap, we’re havin’ a baby.

Shot of pitocin please

2007-04-29T18:02:00.000-07:00

I just posted the following at sidelines, a bedrest support group. i posted there because i thought i might get some desperately needed support, attitude adjustment, anything. i'm posting it here too for the same reasons.

i'm seriously a woman on the verge.

"anytime anybody asks me if i need anything i say, "shot of pitocin?" seriously i am over it. i'm 33 1/2 weeks, serious bedrest since 26, modified since forever.

i have so many d**n contractions that i havent bothered even going to l&d. my doc checks my cervix and it feels fine, NOT TO ME IT DOESNT. somehow the cerclage is holding. the ctnxs hurt now. been havin them for months but they are getting worse. i really need to breathe thru them and my whole lower torso seizes up, clear out the vagina and other lower orifice. ouch. they wake me up and keep me up. i had one non-stress test and of course had no strong contractions during the 30 minute test.

called my doc the other day and his asst prescribed procardia, on his behalf of course, but i didnt fill the prescription bec i wanted to dicuss it in person. he was off for the day so i couldnt see him.

i feel like i've been going into labor for weeks but it never goes full-blown or more than five or six ctnxns an hour. i'm just exhausted esp from bedrest. i seriously get winded brushing my teeth and i feel like my water is about to break. there is so much pressure and discomfort.

i'm having a c-section, hopefully at 38 if the amnio shows the lungs to be mature. my doc will be away from 38-39 1/2 weeks. i cant stand the idea of going to 39 1/2. i'm afraid the contractions are going to cause the cerclage to tear out of my flesh.

i am struggling to remember that i'll never do this again and i might miss it when its over and the baby really needs more time but it isn't really helping. i feel like a selfish brat but i am SOOO uncomfortable. i've been pregnant since summer of 2005 (long, awful story). check my blog at

http://www.tryingtohaveababythatlives.blogspot.com/

it's not pretty but it's honest.

somebody please help me remember/realize why i need to make it a few more weeks. i was holding on so i could get a bedrest reprieve at 35 weeks but i can barely walk around at all without being incredibly uncomfortable. my uterus is constantly seized up and it feels like i've got a bowling ball in there. i dont think i'm going to fulfill the fantasy of being pregnant and cute and out and about. i cant sit at a table without sitting on a big red donut cushion and even that hurts.

i saw a slight pink discharge last night and my first reaction was, "yay, maybe that's my mucus plug coming." how warped is that at only 33 1/2 weeks?

i'm going to ask my doctor for a steroid shot so if my water does break the baby will have a good chance at mature lungs. is there a down side to getting the steroid shot? side effects?

help! i've asked lots of questions here. thoughts about any part of this post would be helpful.

Contractions out the ass, literally

2007-04-27T14:27:00.000-07:00

I’m not up for much typing because it annoys the shit out of me by making me more uncomfortable. Laying on my side twisted so I can type while a laptop lays on my belly. Everything annoys me lately.

My contractions have been getting worse and worse. They leave me short of breath and needing to try to breathe my way through them. I get REALLY hot and feel like ripping off my top. My uterus gets as hard as a cinder block. My lower back aches all the time and I often feel period-like cramping down low in the belly. The contractions are getting longer and more painful.

Last night I was up at 1, 1:30, 2, 2 something, 3, 3:30, 4, and so on. They weren’t super-frequent but they hurt a lot and they woke me up. At about 4, I stopped going back to sleep. Last night things were feeling pretty weird so I thought this might be it.

Turns out fancy doc is off today. Trusty assistant called back to say that he wants to put me on procardia to stop the contractions. I told her about my other symptoms and she was underwhelmed. She said she’d call in the prescription.

I googled procardia and it’s FDA schedule C and causes hideous problems in animal fetuses. The pharmacy cant get it anyway until Monday but it’s just as well because I’m not going to take it. I don’t feel comfortable starting a drug like that without discussing it first. With my doctor. It’s a blood pressure drug. How do they know that my contractions aren’t caused by a need for more blood in the uterus, placenta, baby, whatever. Lowering the blood flow? I’m no doctor but I am somewhat paranoid and screw that. And my blood pressure is on the low side to begin with.

I was annoyed that trusty didn’t want me to come in but I didnt push it because fancy isn’t even there. He knows what my cervix feels like and it didn’t seem worth it to drag ass into the city to see somebody else.

I am the little girl who cried contraction. And nobody is listening. Because, say it with me now… "if the contractions aren’t causing a change to the cervix, then they really dont fucking matter." They are wearing me out, night and day. That’s for fucking sure.

Walking around I feel like my water could break any minute. I feel the stitch. I feel like I am carrying a bowling ball around. Last night I felt something that felt like it could be the bag of waters pressing against me, way up near the cervix. Something leaked out of me, not a lot but enough to go through underwear and a skirt onto what I was sitting on. I feel little feet or hands, way down low. I feel the vibrations out the vagina. Oh yeah, forget to mention that when I have these contractions, I feel them reverberating straight down the vaginal canal and straight out my ass. It’s like my vaginal and ass canal seize up. Good times.

Sometimes I want to go into labor so a) I can get this over with and b) so I can say “I told you so, fucker.” How fucked up is that? I am ashamed to admit that and I dont really mean it but I cant stand this much longer.

Oh yeah and i didnt go to mommy and me with my daughter because i was feelin so awful. So my dad did the school drop off and then called to check in and then went without me. And for what? So i could get talk to trusty for 4 minutes about a prescription that i dont want.

A few times this week my daughter has stopped what she was doing and announced, "Mama I gonna tell you a secret." Then she ran over and pressed her cheek to my cheek (she doesnt understand exactly how secrets even work yet) and she whispered, "we going to go to side-by-side on friday." She is that happy and excited that I was planning to go with her. Three times this week she brought it up out of the blue. I thought about this after they went without me and I had another big, snotty, huge, cry. I thought about her nestling her little butt in my dads lap and not mine (in my lawnchair). She only says her name in the what's-your-name song when I'm with her. I thought about her not saying her name because I wasn't there. (she didnt say it). I cried and cried.

This whole thing really sucks a big one.

33 week update

2007-04-25T18:38:00.000-07:00

I've had a hard time posting because typing is so damn uncomfortable and the baby kicks like hell at the computer resting on her turf. I managed to write this email for family and friends; I haven't sent them an update since 28 weeks. It's a pretty good update so I've pasted it below.

Hi folks,

Okay I admit it. When I was first pondering what bedrest would be like, I thought, "Not only does that sound pretty good to me but I think I am well-suited for it." I mean, I can lay around with the best of 'em. I would be happy to lay on my couch and knit, watch movies, answer a few emails, chat on the phone. Once I discovered that sudoku requires no adding or subtracting, I was hooked. Filling up the time is no problem. Piece of cake.

It's the couch time that is a drag. For the last SEVEN weeks, I've been under doctor's order to get up for no longer than 20 minutes at a time and leave the house for doctor's appointments only. Before that it was a month or so of limited outings and half the day on the couch.

After a while I stopped wondering, "Hey what are we doin' today? Oh yeah, nothing." Sure I get out of all the mundane tasks, of which there are many but the catch is that I don't get to do anything fun either. I don't get to be out in the world, pregnant in a cute outfit. Eating for two is no fun when you are lying on the couch feeling like a beached sea lion. Pregnant burping is VILE, for HOURS, when you can't sit upright after a meal. I'm constantly uncomfortable. My back and hips hurt from laying down all the time. The kids go fun places like the zoo and the beach without me. The kids come in (thank god they GO OUT) like tornadoes, wreaking havoc on my tiny couch world, spilling my drinks, mangling my glasses, inspecting my tray to see if they've missed out on a tasty snack, eating anything that is left, pressing buttons on my laptop, climbing on me, giving the baby the occasional sonic elbow, absconding constantly with my knitting scissors, unraveling my yarn, swiping my carefully placed pillows. (Actually that's my nutty daughter that does pretty much all of those things.) I could go on, but I won't.

I just recently got a pass to do one thing each week that I want to do. WOO-HOO!! I've used my pass to go with my dad and the kids to drop my son off at school and then take my daughter to her mommy-and-me class. It's crazy how exciting it is to go on this outing! Spring has sprung, there are lots of people around, the sun is shining. Feels like I have emerged from a cave.

This week I have an extra pass to go out to dinner. Sitting upright in a chair is wicked uncomfortable and I'll burp up my dinner for seven hours afterwards but I am optimistic that it will be worth it. Hey was that optimism?! Go figure.

There was a real low-point back in March when I had to miss the opening day parade of my son's Little League. He was in the parade. My little guy riding in the back of a pickup truck with his tball team. In his ADORABLE uniform. And there were firetrucks in the parade. When he told me about the firetrucks, I fully burst into tears and could not stop crying. I'd never missed anything in his whole life and I missed him riding in a parade. After all, I learned quickly that tball is ALL ABOUT the parade. And the uniform of course. That was a real low point.

I did defy my doctor's orders later that day and went to the opening day game. I reclined on my lawn chair and watched him play his first tball game. I didn't even mind that people walked by and said things like, "Well don't you look comfortable" and "Hey, you brought your living room." I am happy to look like a fool to see my kid play tball.

I'm 33 weeks tomorrow!! On their first birthdays, babies born at 32 or 33 weeks look the same as full-term babies. Generally there are no lasting effects of the early arrival. WHEW. We are out of the woods.

Recently I have started to think that we are most likely going to have a baby. A live, kicking and screaming baby. Up until now, there was no convincing me of this but lately I am starting to believe it. After being pregnant basically since July 2005, it's hard to really believe that a baby is coming. Fortunately she has proven to be quite a robust fetus and regularly thrashes around like a wildcat trapped in a burlap sack. Not super comfortable but at least I know she is alive!

My thoughts have turned from questions of the baby's survival to "Maybe I should pack a bag for the hospital (so the baby has just the right outfit for her homecoming, of course) and then jumping ahead to "How the hell am I going to pick up two kids from two different schools at virtually the same time with a baby in tow?"

It's a welcome change that's for sure. I've pretty much been terrified this entire pregnancy. I would've been petrified anyway because of my three disasters. But add to that the rollercoaster of the plummeting progesterone, a suspicious cyst on my ovary, a gut-wrenching episode of spotting and cramping, the cerclage surgery, fears of infection, Christmas and the anniversary of losing LC, a funky genetic test result that compelled an amnio, a godawful wait for results, a third "no-longer-due-date," contractions starting at 16 weeks, a funneling cervix at 26 weeks, bedrest, fear, fear and more fear.

Now here I am, seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. Only I am stuck on the couch so I have to look at the light from here. Don't get me wrong, I do go outside to lay on a lawn chair people. I'm no fool. And of course it will all be completely worth it when the little darling makes her grand entrance.

Regarding when that entrance will be, the plan is this: At around 36 or 37 weeks, I will have an amnio (fluid drawn out of the placenta with a big long needle) to see if the baby's lungs are mature. If there are mature or mature enough (97% chance of maturity) AND my cervix is showing ANY signs of readiness, then my doctor will deliver the baby by scheduled C-section just before 38 weeks. That's May 30 or so.

The reason to do the C-section at just before 38 weeks is that my doctor is leaving town from 38 weeks to 39 ½ weeks. I only very recently got up the courage to inquire about the delivery. Didn't want to jinx it. Turns out he'll be away during a crucial point.

I DO NOT want to go to 39 ½ weeks. I have ZERO interest in going into labor with this bootlace holding things together downtown. Normally a cerclage is removed at 36 weeks but mine is a more complicated type of stitch and requires serious anesthesia for removal so we are leaving it in until the C-section. My doctor is most capable at removing this type of stitch so I want him to do it before he goes. I also want this baby out of here before there's a chance for anything else to go wrong. I also want my happy ending to come with this doctor who saw us through two heartbreaks. So we'll see.

So for now I will remain on the couch, occasionally timing the contractions that are getting stronger and stronger (somehow they haven't escalated into labor). If things look good at 34 weeks, I'll be up and around a little more so I can regain a little strength. It's scary how quickly I get winded when I am up. It won't be easy recovering from my fourth major abdominal surgery (1st one was to remove a fibroid which is the reason I must have C-sections to being with) and months of bedrest.

It'll all be worth it when I hear this baby cry. Speaking of the tiny tot, I've attached a really cool photo of her at 30 weeks. I could fill an album with her ultrasound photos but this one should go in a frame.

I've also attached a photo of my daughter and me, taken a few weeks ago. I was determined to have lovely professional photos taken and I am so glad I did. The pictures will leave me with memories of the joy of growing a baby with a big brother and sister reveling in the process. The kids' infectious and unbridled enthusiasm has buoyed me up through these trying times.

Now that I have written the great American novel, I'll sign off. If all goes as planned (do I dare put that in print?), I'll update again when a delivery date is set. If not, we'll email whenever we can.

Holy crap, we're havin' a baby.

Next email could be from the hospital!

Thanks again for all of your support and well-wishes, not to mention your willingness to hang in there with us and to read this whole damn email. Having such a great support system has helped us get through this.

Big shout out to my dad who has been with us for 3 1/2 MONTHS, working night and day, putting up with my grumpiness, to help ensure that his granddaughter arrives safely and that the kids are well-cared-for in the process. We are fortunate indeed.

XO,

wtf

No news is good news

2007-04-17T19:23:00.000-07:00

Sorry for being such a slacker. I have posts percolating in my head but haven't managed to make the effort to write them. Here's alittle bit of all of them.

Here's a picture of our daughter at 30 weeks. 4-D scans are friggin' unbelievable. I look at this picture to make myself believe that there is a real live baby in my belly. She is very active and I feel her moving all the time but I still have a hard time connecting the dots. WIth my son and daughter, it wasn't until I heard them cry that I REALLY got it. Sounds crazy probably.

Recently, I am starting to believe that she will most likely be born and live and come home with us. I am thinking about packing a bag for the hospital, mostly so I'll have a cute outfit for her to come home in. I might also wash some clothes for her soon. Her accomodations pretty much consist of a crib in our bedroom. She'll sleep in bed with us until she starts making an unreasonable amount of noise and then we'll reevaluate. We could put her bassinet in our bathroon; our bathroom is beautiful and has the best feng shui of any room in the house.

My dreams have been crazy. A few nights ago I made the acquaintance of the grim reaper, then the next night it was multiple near-death-experiences in Mexico. Last night I was about to get bussed off to prison for six months when Tina Fey saved my ass on the basis of a positive blood test of some sort. Fortunately I have learned that, in the dream world, dying is actually more about rebirth and than it is about death. Still.

Sticking with the death theme, I am feeling ready to deal with the two boxes of ashes sitting in my kitchen cabinet. It's time to release them, the ashes that is, not the babies. The babies are long gone. If I ever get around to finishing the story of the Big Fucking Nightmare, I will elaborate on how, after LC died, she was gone, gone. It seemed like she shot out of my life in a flash and left nothing behind. Her ashes never felt at all like they had much to do with her. The thread between us broke when we gave her back to the nurse. MAybe I haven't allowed myself to feel her presence. Who knows.

So I have a question. I have been thinking a little about whether I should keep a tiny bit of her ashes, and her tiny, baby brother's. Anyone have any thoughts about this? I am somewhat inclined to let the ocean lap them all up and take them away. But I don't want to have regrets. I have pictures, handprints, footprints, an impossibly tiny hospital band. My jizo statue is on the way, finally.

Should I keep some ashes? Any insights from personal experiences would be most welcome.

Maybe after I release the ashes, my heart will open more fully to the little acrobat in my belly. I'll sign off for now so she'll stop trying to kick the computer off my belly.

If anything dramatic happens, like I go into labor or my water breaks, I will have a friend post for me. So no news really is good news.

I am 32 weeks on Thursday! This is the first milestone that seems like it will feel good. The baby will most likely be fine if she insists on being born. Every day and week after is shaving off NICU time and increasing the likelihood that she goes straight to her daddy's arms.

I see fancy doc on thursday and i will demand that we have a detailed discussion of the plan for my delivery. I'll give him some more shit about scheduling a vacation during my 38-39 1/2 week period. I know he really wants to be there so giving him shit will be satisfying. I'd like to talk seriously about having a C-section before he leaves. I know that he has some concern about who removes my cerclage. Any one of his partners could do the section but I'd love for it to be him. At any rate, he isn't putting me off again with any bullshit about superstition. I need to know whatever is knowable about the plan for my delivery.

Christ this kid is still thrashing around like a wildcat in a burlap sack. Feels like she is doing backflips with my right hipbone as a her launching pad. Gadzooks.

There is a crib in my bedroom

2007-04-07T19:29:00.000-07:00

On Wednesday, we bought our neighbor’s crib and it was put in our garage. On Thursday, it was assembled and now it is in our bedroom. I was thinking that seeing the crib in the bedroom might help me picture a baby in it. As it is now, I look at the crib and think, “Is this really going to happen?” “If a baby ends up in this crib, will she be healthy?” “Are we going to have a happy ending?”

I guess the heart of the matter is the question of the happy ending. After being pregnant for so long, after two disasters, it’s a leap for me to believe that this will end well. It’s not that I think it will end badly. I just don’t trust the universe when it comes to babies. I’ve lived a few horror stories and heard many, many more. The baby got the hiccups for the first time the other day and the thought that leapt into my mind was, “Jesus I hope it’s not cord compression.”

Call me negative. I call it jaded. I know too much and a lot of it isn’t good. And I was no little miss sunshine even before I lost my deadbabyvirginity. Please spare me any comments about how I should focus on the positive. I already know that there is a very bright side here and that I would help me to pay closer attention to it. Being able to feel gratitude helped me survive the Big Fucking Nightmare. After the next disaster, I was just pissed. And bitter. Being grateful felt better. I digress.

I started this blog so I could vent about my experiences and find some community in the process. Angst is what inspires me to post. Notice that most of my posts are about fear and anxiety and catastrophizing. I don’t feel that way all the time or I would be posting more frequently. After I post a big, gnarly rant about whatever, I generally feel better. Catharsis, I believe it’s called. I’d rather give the negativity, or whatever, a voice and release it into cyberspace than let it eat away at me while I try to stuff it down. I like the old “trying to keep the beach ball under the water” analogy. It’s exhausting falling off that ball all the time and trying to climb back on. Here, my beach ball is all over the place.

Having empathic readers who leave empathic comments feels good. Having somebody tell me to pull up my skirt and quit bitching is not so helpful. My dad did that as I grew up with a very depressed and abusive mother. I am trying to re-parent myself by listening to my inner 5-year-old instead of telling her to rise above it. We all need to be seen as we are and loved as we are in order to have a shot at feeling anything but self-loathing. I digress again.

I get that other people have it worse than me. Lots of them. My life is full of riches and beauty and treasure. I am constantly awe-struck by my children. I live in wonder that my husband, the most decent and generous person I know, really and truly loves me. I am blessed in myriad ways.

But I still need a place to complain and that place is here. I appreciate the comments defending my right to complain. I didn’t get involved in the discussion because I feel very certain that not only am I justified in griping but that it’s good for me.

So back to griping. I’m finding it hard to trust that my happy ending is coming. At the same time, every ounce of my being rebels at the notion of some sort of disaster. I’m in limbo.

I saw fancy doc on Thursday. At that point I had two weeks of house-bound, I shouldn’t be up for longer than 20 minutes bedrest under my belt. He said that I should continue that way for 2 more weeks and then we’ll reevaluate. However, he did give me a pass for one outing a week and I will use it to take my son to school and then my daughter to her mommy-and-me class. I’ll bring my lawn chair to the class.

The stitch is holding my cervix steady at 3 cm. I’m always surprised by that but I guess the only way for the cervix to shorten is if the stitch slips. The stitch feels very pinchy like there is a uterus full of baby sitting right on it, which of course there is. The baby looks good. The fluid looks good, the cord is not wrapped and seems to be attached properly and in a good spot.

The contractions are getting more painful but I haven’t had more than three painful ones in an hour. I just sneezed and felt like I about blew the stitch right out of me. Often I feel like my water could break any minute now. This morning I had crampy pains and aches in my lower back. But so far none of these symptoms has escalated into anything that caused me to consider calling fancy doc’s office.

Oh yeah so fancy is gong to be away from end of May’ish until June 8th. That is week 38 for me and part of 39. We hadn’t discussed “the delivery” earlier for fear of the dreaded jinx. I asked him if we’d do the C-section at 38 weeks before he left on vacation and he said no. Regarding what the actual plan will be, he said it’s too early to talk about and that we should discuss it at 34 weeks. My world-renowned, cerclage-expert, fancy doctor is too superstitious to go there.

So I guess that leaves me delivering, if not sooner, than at 39 ½ weeks. I’m not thrilled about that especially since my cerclage will still be in. Given how uncomfortable that little mother is right now, I am not too psyched about going any longer than necessary. A 38-week delivery would work for me. So we’ll see.

In the meantime, there is a crib in my bedroom. Maybe I’ll put some tiny clothes in there along with her little cowboy booties. To help me get in happy-ending, live-baby mode. And I am moving into full-on, this is the last several, or few, weeks that I will ever be pregnant and so I intend to enjoy some of it mode.

Oh yeah and I have the “consent for sterilization” form. It needs to be signed at least 30 days before the C-section; there is a waiting period of sorts. I would’ve preferred that the form say “consent for tubal ligation.” Sterilization. That’s a little intense.

To answer the question of why I am having a C-section: In 1999, I had a large fibroid removed from the wall of my uterus. Since it was embedded in the wall and then removed, a vaginal delivery carries a 10% chance of a uterine rupture. My ex-doctor was adamant that a vaginal delivery would be too risky. (She didn’t bother to tell me that a LEEP procedure, aka lopping off 25% of my cervix, might cause an incompetent cervix but that’s another story). So it’s scheduled C-sections for me. It’s not so bad especially when they are scheduled so there is no labor. More on that some other time.

Even cowgirls get the blues

2007-03-30T11:53:00.000-07:00

I haven’t been posting because I am miserable and unmotivated. Times are tough here, on the couch. Let’s see. Where do I start? I’m 29 weeks. I thought it would feel good to get here but it doesn’t. It feels like I climbed to the top of a peak only to find there is a much higher one still to be climbed. And the drop-off where I stand looks precipitous. In other words, if our baby is born today she will have an 85% chance of survival, according to whom I have no idea. If she lived, she’d surely be in the NICU for weeks and would be likely to have long-term health problems. 29 weeks is not a good time to have a baby. I know I should be grateful for high-rate of survival but after the long road to get here I have a vision of holding this baby when she is born.

Being stuck on the couch sucks. Being stuck on the couch and unable to leave my house while a tile saw or a wood saw or currently a metal saw is constantly rattling my frayed nerves extra sucks. I KNOW that the project was my idea and the yard looks great but still. The saw is about ten feet from my spot and it’s been going on for three full weeks and I can’t get away from it. Last week the tile saw was going for, I shit you not, six-and-a-half hours. In a row. And I can’t get away from it.

I can’t sit outside except on Sundays. Being inside all the time is probably contributing to my state-of-mind. The blinds are closed so I’m not eyeball-to-eyeball with Jose all day. Just because this was my idea doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck listening to it all day, everyday.

What else? Last night was the first night that when I got in my bed, my hips protested. I think I heard them saying, “You can’t be fucking serious, you are laying down again. Still? How ‘bout a few minutes without laying on one of us please? How does a ball-and-socket joint get a break around here for chrissake?” Seriously, laying on my side all day is slowly pulverizing my hip bones. Reclining on my back affects my circulation and makes the burping worse. Screw the “mommy makeover,” I’m going to need a hip replacement when this is over

Oh the burping. Burping is an issue when you’re pregnant anyway, especially at 29 weeks. But imagine if you will, eating anything and then having to lay down. EVERYTHING comes back up repeatedly and for hours after eating. Nothing passes the test of “hmm, how will it be to burp this up for hours on end?” Nothing. Not smoothies with not a lot of berries, not a bowl of cheerios, not a bagel and cream cheese and not friggin’ cookies and milk. Nothing tastes good when it’s rancid. Eating is no fun.

It’s hard to enjoy eating anyway when I am going to lay on my couch afterwards. Not just because I might burp utter vileness into my throat. But because I probably require 75 calories a day to lay on the couch. What fun is it to eat chocolate peanut butter ice cream when I know that it is going straight to the inside of my knees? Fat on the knees, you ask? Yes, fat on the knees. And being post-natal in June? With a pool membership? ARGHHHH.

Eating is also no fun because my dad gives me shit about what I eat. He does this repeatedly. It started the day after the stomach flu when I fixed a half a bagel at about 9 p.m. “Heh, heh you’re really eating for two there aren’t you?” Half a bagel after a stomach flu induced fast?! To a pregnant woman who had only recently stopped feeling like puking all the time?! Swear to God. Then it was comments like, “Heh, heh you really have a big appetite there?” to my soup, salad, and half a sandwich.” “It’s a good thing _____ mooches your food all the time, it’ll keep your weight down.” “Maybe the chicken would be a better choice for you than that hot dog.” “You should probably pass on that piece of sausage, it’s not good for the baby.”

This one is a favorite: “you should probably get on an exercise program in about a month after the baby is born.” No extra time off to recover form a third C-section? Not a few extra weeks to recover from months laying on the couch? No special allowance for having a newborn and being up half the night, not to mention the rigors of caring for the other two kids?

I swear I’m not making this shit up. And he wonders why I don’t want to talk to him. But yet he is here all day and all day I feel like an asshole for not talking to him but my inner child, and adolescent, and teenager has her arms folded and wants to say, “Screw you. You never listened to me while I was growing up. You just rationalized and invalidated anything I ever told you. Regarding my mother who was unable to care for us because she was too depressed and who slapped me in the face regularly and called me an ungrateful brat and told me flat-out that a divorce would be my fault and who constantly had operations and slept in a hospital bed in the living room and who pretended to be super-mom when anybody was around and who had the emotional maturity of a three-year-old?”

What did he say to that? Once again, I shit you not, “At least she wasn’t a drug dealer.” Other favorites: “Be bigger than her (to a five-year-old), “rise above it” and “do you remember that time when she talked about how grandma treated her (yeah, that one time when I was 20)?” Other than that it was NEVER to be spoken of in front of her. Never. Toxic denial. Fun for the whole family.

We actually had a conversation the other day and once again he played the “at least she wasn’t a drug dealer” card. Nice standards for your kids. Yet I was never good enough because I wasn’t a fucking Rhodes Scholar. Movin’ on.

It’s hard having my dad here because of all the baggage. I know that I should be grateful for his help. He is working very hard and does a great job with the kids and he is getting little appreciation from me because I am all clenched up inside.

Let’s see. What else? I feel like I’ve been pregnant forever. I HAVE been pregnant forever. 63 weeks in fact. I got pregnant with LC last summer. Not this past summer of 2006 that was eight months ago.

Summer of 2005.

Pregnant until December 30, 2006. Then some time off for recovering from the infection and the birth and the death and the mortuary and the hip sockets and femurs in her tiny bag of ashes.

Pregnant again in April (I know, I chose this, I was desperate to restore the state of pregnancy). Eleven weeks of terror followed by a big deadbabysurprise on June 30, 2006. No forewarning whatsoever. I’d seen the heartbeat twice.

Nightmare followed. Absolute fucking nightmare. Not like with LC. Completely different and with very few people around to help pick up the pieces. Can’t go there now. Pregnant again in August 2006. 29 weeks later, here I am.

Yes I know I should be grateful for being wildly fertile. I am grateful. It would’ve taken me 15 years to have all these babies, 2 live ones and three dead ones, if I had trouble conceiving. This way I packed ‘em all into 7 years.

So it’s no wonder I feel like I’ve been pregnant forever. I know cry me a river. I have two beautiful kids. I went for a third. Greedy? But why shouldn’t I have three kids? How many of you had three in your family? It’s not like I’m going for number 16 here. I digress. Clearly I am conflicted about all of my griping. It just adds to my torment.

One other problem about being pregnant for so long is that I can barely bring myself to believe that we are having a baby. I’ve been pregnant for a year-and-a-half and still no baby. My brain knows that a baby is most likely coming but try telling that to my psyche. And my heart.

Now that I’ve started trying to call the baby by a name that we are trying on, I find that the name that comes to my mind or lips isn’t the right name. It’s LC that pops into place before I can catch myself. That is some sad shit right there. Maybe that’s partly why I preferred a boy; that is so I could separate the pregnancies and the babies. The last time I had a person living in my body that kicked and thumped around, it was LC. It’s hard to separate the unfinished pregnancy from this one. Movin’ on.

This afternoon I am going to see Evil Shadow Pregnancy. At a birthday party. A small party in a small backyard. This woman has been the bane of my existence since last summer. I have actively dreaded seeing her since I last ran into her on Halloween. That was right before the email exchange that made it all worse. I don’t even know what to do with this. I think I can’t even think about it because I am so overloaded with other shit. UGH.

I’m losing momentum here. This morning I thought of at least ten things that really suck about this situation. Here is one thing that is great: my daughter is beside herself with excitement. She who has no fear is overflowing with joy at the prospect of her baby sister.

She sings songs to the baby. Full songs like every single verse of “Farmin’ in the dell.” She shares her binky with the baby. She brings crackers and offers sips from her cup. She talks in that instinctive baby-talk. She tries to pick her up. She says, “I see my baby” and then pulls up my shirt and inquires, “Hi baby. How your sleep?”

She is living in the moment because she hasn’t learned any other way to live. It is pure joy to watch her in action. In those moments alone, I picture us with a baby.

I think I’ll end it here. Enough bitching for one morning. Maybe I’ll add a few more gripes later. Here’s a little preview:

--The social challenges of being on bedrest when you already feel like a deadbabyleper (thanks charlotte for this useful term)

--The social challenges of relying on blogland for your support system

--The emotional challenge of feeling like your water is going to break any second now and the conflicting emotions that result when you realize that you might actually be relieved, but only for five seconds because then you’ll end up in the hospital and your baby will end up in the NICU if she’s lucky

ARGHHH. Enough. Movin’ on.

There’s no crying in T-ball or is there?

2007-03-24T17:32:00.000-07:00

On Thursday, my 37th birthday, I had my big outing for the week. I drove to the city to see Fancy Doc. Rocket Man met me there and we saw the little darling on the u/s. She is measuring perfectly and all of her organs look great. Placenta, umbilical cord, fluid level, all good. My cervix is 3 cm, thanks to the bootlace holding it together. Funneling is minimal. I didn’t have a contraction so we didn’t see the funneling that happened two weeks ago during a contraction.

Fancy doc checked my cervix. It still feels “softish”. The pressure on it isn’t significant. He is very glad that he put the more elaborate type of cerclage in because without it, we’d be screwed. Clearly my cervix is not to be trusted.

We talked quite a bit about what my restrictions are. I told him that I would like to go to my son’s first T-ball game and that I would like to accompany my daughter and my dad to her mommy-and-me type class. Naturally, I would take my trusty lawn chair and lay in it during both events. I would go straight to the car and then to the chair. Fancy received my questions, examined me, and said he would return with an answer once I was dressed.

He came back in and said no. No t-ball games, no mommy-and-me. No leaving the house until my next appointment in two weeks. When I get up, I can stay up for no longer than 20 minutes. At 32 weeks, we will reconsider the game plan. Four weeks of confinement.

He did give me clearance to go to a neighbor’s little girl’s birthday party. With my lawn chair. Ew, Evil Shadow Pregnancy is going to be at the party. Can’t go there now.

Since I last saw him, the day of the building evacuation, I’ve been wondering why Fancy Doc changed his tune from yeah-I-think-four-hours-of-bedrest-is-a-good-idea to fairly-strict-bedrest. Was he just agreeing with Partner Doc? Just to be on the safe side? Did he suddenly become a believer in bedrest? I asked these questions, not in so many words. The answer is basically that he was concerned by the funneling seen on the u/s during the contraction. I think seeing that, he really got that the cerclage was the only thing holding my cervix together. I got that weeks before because I can feel it. It feels like a bootlace is holding my cervix together and that the weight of the uterus, etc. is sitting right on it.

So no outings. I got a massage in my living room on my birthday. Naturally right when I got naked and on the table, the jackhammer began dismantling our backyard landing and stairs. The masseuse sent the guy away, confused. I should’ve warned the foreman but I foolishly thought they had enough quiet landscaping work for the morning.

The massage was pretty good. RM made a great dinner and we ate with the kids and then had two kinds of birthday cake. My kids are old enough to know that a true birthday cake has to have chocolate in it so we had chocolate and a lime-chiffon. Little bit of champagne. Yum.

Too bad I was my usual cranky self about my presents. RM went to the trouble of buying me some presents; after years of blowing off occasions, on both our parts, we are back to buying each other presents again. It’s a good thing too because I needed some presents this year. My dad got me a shovel. Yep, a shovel, like a big one that is used in one’s yard.

RM got me some fabulous chocolates, with nuts, a new booklight so I don’t go blind reading all night when I can’t sleep, and an array of maternity clothes. Unfortunately I was shocked by the price tags, $125 for a tank top that I will wear a few times and $95 for yoga pants. I can’t even leave my house. Maybe I’d wear the top a few times. NO WAY was I going to keep the pants and have them hemmed when my old navy pair is just fine. I am such a FREAK about stuff like this.

I got all worked up about the prices and the slim chance that I would get good use of the clothes AND pea-in-the-stupid-ass-pod’s COMPLETE lack of a return policy. You can exchange for store credit but no returns, no money-back, NEVER EVER. I still can’t believe it despite hearing it from RM that night and the saleslady the next morning.

So basically I was a jerk about the clothes and not at all gracious or appreciative. Nice example to set for my kids about “it’s the thought that counts.” Way to fucking go.

Then I felt like a big a-hole. RM worked so hard to make a nice dinner and give me some very thoughtful presents. I would have found the guilt completely intolerable but fortunately, as we were going to bed, I was able to surprise a defeated RM with his repaired dresser drawers. Two of his big, heavy drawers fall down when they are opened and I’d been secretly working on finding the parts and arranging for a repair. Furniture guy fixed them that afternoon. Whew. Not that that made up for my bad behavior.

It’s not easy being me.

This post was supposed to be about the big, snotty cry I had this morning when my little boy told me about baseball/t-ball opening day parade that I missed. A firetruck was mentioned and I promptly burst into tears. My 5½ year-old little guy rode in the back of a pick-up truck, in his adorable uniform, with his first ever team, and there were firetrucks and police cars, and they drove on the cutest little downtown street ever. Then all the players assembled on the field with their teams for the opening day ceremony. Then they ate donuts. My daughter ate the chocolate off her donut and then tried to exchange it, naturally, for another one. And I missed all of it. I HATE missing things. I have never even tried to conceive of missing something for one of my kids. I haven’t missed anything in his life. Brutal.

Don’t get me wrong, I have ZERO qualms about being on bedrest. I KNOW why we are doing this and I know that it will be worth it. It’s already worth it. I’ve held two dead babies. I’m a believer.

I’ll do whatever needs to be done. I just wasn’t prepared to feel like I am robbing peter to pay paul. I know that my kids aren’t nearly as upset about me missing things as I am. That’s good. If they were upset, I might need to call my therapist.

My son knows all too well why I need to be resting. My daughter goes bounding out the door to mommy (pop pop)-and-me and comes home with treats and a chubby fistful of flowers. They are both fine.

The dead babies had a much greater impact on all of us. And this is only temporary. Yeah, that’s it. And once the baby is born… holy shit, we’ll have a newborn. That sounds scary and oh so challenging. Three kids, recovering from bedrest and a C-section, I’ll be on my own, sleepless nights…. Ohmygod, somebody stop me. Stop me before I kill again. Hormones, I am playing the hormone card here. I am crazy. Mayor of crazytown crazy.

Heartbeat but little movement

2007-03-20T10:55:00.000-07:00

Last night, I was reading, well skimming, Sarah Bilston’s Bedrest, when I realized that I hadn’t felt much baby movement during the day. Usually bedtime for me is gymnastics time for baby /LG but I still didn’t feel much of anything. I was considering going downstairs for the Doppler when I felt a little thump. Somehow that was enough to put my mind at ease and I skimmed the rest of the book and went to sleep.

In the morning, after I rolled over, I felt nothing. Usually rolling over wakes up the little tyke. I started to worry and rolled over again. I poked. I prodded. I inquired about whether or not she was okay. Nothing. I got the hell out of bed and went downstairs to check the heartbeat. Heartbeat found. Whew.

Thank God for the Doppler. Really. I was initially reluctant to rent one and wondered if it would do more harm than good. Having a Doppler has been so great for my anxiety level. I would’ve been WIGGING this morning if I didn’t hear that heartbeat. It sounds normal. I can’t tell how many BPM because it’s too hard to count and watch the clock. Pregnancy retardation has hit me pretty hard as usual.

Around 10 a.m., I drank some Gatorade and laid down to see if any action would result. Eventually I felt some bumps and thumps, more than ten, within 20 or so minutes. The movements feel feeble though, not as robust as usual. That combined with the lack of movement last night and this morning? I called the nurse on call. Trusty assistant is away for the week.

The nurse called back immediately and said I could come in for a non-stress test. She was reassured however that I felt plenty of movement within a short period of time. With that and a heartbeat, she assured me there is no cause for concern. I figured fancy would rather that I stay put than drive into the city for a NST. The nurse said that the baby might have switched positions and is kicking the placenta instead of the uterine wall, making them harder to feel. Sooo I think everything is fine. I am still a little concerned that movement has been minimal but I will stay tuned in for the rest of the day and can always call back or go get the NST.

Btw, I cancelled my massage. Thanks for the “tough love”/ words-of-wisdom. I can get somebody to come to my house. No sense taking chances. God knows I would never forgive myself if something happened.

On Thursday I will get clear with fancy what his vision of my bedrest is exactly. I will also have an u/s so we’ll get a look at the funneling, as well as cervical length.

My favorite mamas, at Dosmamas, got a BFN on 11 dpo. ☹ Go give them some love or empathy or curse words or maybe all three. I don’t know what will help, if anything.

I know that we are committed to continuing to donate RM’s sperm to them. Next up: some testing for RM, most of which was probably done at his recent life insurance physical. Then a few well-timed trips to the clinic for some IUI’s. One step at a time, hopefully we’ll all get there.

I can’t fathom how much it sucks having to depend on somebody who is not your partner to provide you with the means to have a baby. All I know is that we are completely willing to do the IUI’s.

We are not about to bail out on you ladies because of a minor inconvenience. Lord knows Charlotte has driven her ass, and toddler, up here repeatedly to help me cope with various stages of the processes of losing two babies. That wasn’t convenient I am sure but I was in need so it didn’t matter. It doesn’t matter to us either. Capiche?

Man am I boring

2007-03-19T18:25:00.000-07:00

I get annoyed when I check blogs repeatedly only to find no new posts. I even get all, "WTF? How 'bout a new post already?" And here I am commiting the very offense that annoys me. I have no news, nothing exciting, nothing to report really.

I did just have a few PAINFUL contractions but only two and then they stopped. They stopped before I could start to panic. I define painful as: feels like the uterus is being wrung out like a... dishtowel.

That's what it felt like when I was in labor with LC. I'm not saying I think that is happening here NOT AT ALL. NOT EVEN CLOSE.

RM scheduled a massage for me on Thursday, my 37th birthday and my official 28 week milestone. The spa has inquired in the past about whether the pregnancy was high-risk. RM and I were debating about the possible downside of saying no to that question. I called fancy doc's office to investigate and he said no massage. Not because it’s dangerous but because I can’t leave my house.

I am surprised that he is that serious about the bedrest. I am actually not certain what his vision is of my bedresting. I will inquire when I see him on Thursday. After all, it wasn’t really his idea to move from 4 hours of rest to a full day. Who knows, whatever, blah blah.

I think I will get the massage anyway. The spa is five minutes from my house. The masseuse does pre-natal so she’ll know to stay away from my ankles and heel. I’ll be laying down for chrissake. I think that net-net it will be good for my well-being to have a little pampering.

On the other hand, maybe I’ll call a masseuse I know who does housecalls. Don’t want to piss off the gods of pre-term labor. That is just like me to be concerned that a doctor isn’t worried enough and then not listen to him when he restricts me.

Seriously though you all know how cavalier fancy has been. Is he really worried now? When we talked last Tuesday, after the building evacuation, he didn’t seem too concerned and he said to come back in two weeks. My scheduling choices turned out to be 9 days or 2 ½ weeks, so I opted for the 9 days. Hmm. Maybe he didn’t wanting me driving into the city for the appointment. I think he is just not super-worried and feels pretty good about my chances here.

Aren’t you glad I updated with this boring shit? It’s so boring that it bores me too. At this point, however, boring is good.

On Thursday, I’ll be 28 weeks. Now that I am almost there, I don’t feel much safer. It’s still way too early. Survival is not a sure thing. 90% some sites say, others say 90% is at 30 weeks.

Almost reaching 28 weeks feels like I did when my dad was teaching me how to swim. This is SO typical of his parenting style and general approach to life. As I struggled mightily to swim to him, he kept backing up. Yep, that’s right. He kept backing up. To challenge me, I am sure but what he really achieved was creating a sense for me that I would never be good enough and never reach the goal he set for me. Nice huh? This is the same guy who had this approach later on:

“What a B on you report card? What happened?”

“Oh straight A’s, well that’s good but I’ve seen you study. You are cramming for tests, you’re not really learning anything.”

When that wasn’t enough he’d say, “Well I never see you pick up a newspaper. You have no idea what’s going on in the world.”

You get the picture. Naturally I internalized that impossible standard and rarely is anything good enough and I am just as critical of myself as he was of me.

So what’s the point? Oh right. 28 weeks doesn’t feel as good as I thought it would. I can’t really “pat myself on the back” (high praise from my dad). 28 weeks feels like my baby might not even live and if she does it will be a big, fat NICU nightmare especially since I have tiny babies anyway.

I’m sorry if I am bringing anybody down with my shitty attitude. I just posted at sidelines (a bedrest support community) and was reluctant to do so because I often present such a dark cloud of negativity .

Maybe if I give voice to the fear, then it’ll free me up to celebrate reaching this milestone. And it’s my birthday on Thursday/28 week day, for chrissake.

Exciting times in the stirrups

2007-03-13T19:52:00.000-07:00

How is it possible to have exciting times in the stirrups? Before imaginations get carried away, let me tell you. Fancy doc comes in, we chat, he answers my questions, we go over our game plan and then I go in the stirrups. Time for a cervix check.

Fancy was literally knuckle-deep in my vagina, making those funny, cervix-assessing faces that he makes when, I shit you not, a screeching alarm comes on and a man’s voice enters the room via intercom, “This is the building manager. There is a fire emergency. You must evacuate the building immediately.”

Fancy is unimpressed and declares it to be a drill that doesn’t apply to us since he is currently “with a patient.” With a patient, I’ll say. He completes his face-making and pronounces my cervix to be “softish but good.” The building manager, having been charged with the safety of the occupants, is appropriately persistent comes back on and repeats, “This is a fire emergency. All occupants must evacuate the building immediately.”

Trusty assistant confirmed that the evacuation would be including us despite me being half-naked and spread-eagled. I pretty much thought, “Sweet Jesus, please let me put my clothes on. No way am I going outside in this oversized paper towel.” I threw my clothes on and off we went.

Trusty assistant was pretty put out that she had several pre-term, high-risk patients schlepping down the stairs, spilling onto the city streets. She was surprisingly protective of me and didn’t want me crossing the street to the official rendezvous location. She searched in vain for a place for me to sit.

A fire truck, the hook-and-ladder no less, came screaming up the one-way street. My son would’ve loved that. He wanted to come but had stayed home sick from a school so no dice.

Trusty continued to fret because it was windy and cold where we were standing. With fancy’s blessing, we trekked up a short hill to a sunny corner. We met up with Partner Doc. Fancy and Partner briefly discussed the funneling of my cervix in last week’s u/s. (Having just arrived back in town, Fancy obviously hadn’t had sufficient opportunity to catch up on things.)

Fancy and Partner apologized for the inconvenience. I assured them both that I had been looking forward to the outing and that, with the added bonus of a bonafide evacuation, my expectations had been wildly exceeded. I’m tellin’ you, thrills come cheaply when you live on your couch.

A third partner came over. We stood in the brilliant sunshine and speculated about whether or not the building would burn to the ground. I was feeling cute, despite my take-my-word-for-it-HAIRY legs, in a polka-dot tank top and a brown skirt that bordered on flouncy. I lamented to the trio of docs, “Crap. I’ve got three great medical minds stranded with me on a street corner and I already ran through my entire list of questions. I’ve got nothing.”

Then we were called back into the building and trusty shepherded me to the front of the crowd waiting like lemmings for the elevator. We got back just in time for my glucose-loaded blood to be drawn. Good times.

On to more serious matters, Fancy concurs with Partner that we have a relatively serious situation on our hands with the “softish” cervix that funnels during contractions. He suggested that I continue the full-time rest and abstain from outings for at least the next few weeks. We skipped the u/s and the fFN. We’re pretty much doing everything we can.

Next u/s on March 23, 28 weeks, 1 day.

Oh and he said my belly is measuring a week or two ahead of schedule. No surprise here. He also assured me that I shouldn’t go home and google hydroencephalitis.

All in all, it was a good day. My five-year-old son just came home from his first T-ball practice in an oversized jersey and a navy blue cap. He is looks beyond adorable and had a really great time at his first ever sports practice of any sort.

Opening day parade in two weeks. I will be there, resting on a lounge chair. No effin’ way am I missing seeing him in a parade. Word on the street is that T-ball is ALL about the parade and the uniform. I am inclined to agree already.

big outing today

2007-03-13T12:16:00.000-07:00

i'm off to see fancy doc, my big outing for the week. i find that when i do get to go out i am relatively determined to look cute. this is my LAST pregnancy ever and i want to enjoy some of it. for some reason wearing cute maternity clothes out in the world is important to me.

duh, its probably because of all the dead babies and the myriad times i felt envy and/or resentment when i saw pregnant women and their cute bellies. now i 've arrived there except i am on my couch instead of out in the world. not that i am complaining. i'd do just about anything to get this baby here safely.

blah, blah, enough. i'm going out! unshaved legs and all. at least my closed-toes sandals are hiding my unsightly toenails. suddenly its spring here. time for skirts and tank tops. shame about my arm fat. oh well.

hopefully fancy doc won't confuse me by contradicting what partner doc said last week. i'll have an u/s so we'll get a look at the stitch and any funneling developments.

i havent written down my questions so i'll write some now while i am planted here with computer and no pen.

-what does fancy think of the funneling?
-can i take my daughter to mommy and me type class? what if that's the only thing i do all week?
-how 'bout skipping the fFN because it sucks?
-what about my average of 3 contractions/hour adding up to about 30/day?
-i can feel my heart pounding often but not always before a contraction. normal?
-how 'bout that i can barely sit at a table without feeling like all of my weight is pushing on the stitch and its pretty damn uncomfortable?

time to go.

Be careful what you ask for

2007-03-07T19:33:00.000-08:00

It's official. I'm on bedrest. Fancy doc's partner looked at my u/s and said he thinks I should be resting pretty much all of the time, as much as possible. The u/s showed my cervix funneling (above the stitch) but it turned out to be a contraction and not the normal state. After the contraction, which I didn't even feel, my cervix went back to just a little funnel.

Partner doc thinks my cervix would have undoubtedly opened already if it weren't for the bootlace holding it together. He agrees with fancy that the pressure and discomfort that I feel is pressure on the stitch. Getting up from the couch and feeling really uncomfortable is an indicator of just how much pressure is being put on the stitch. The stitch is like a purse string through the cervix that gets stitched through and then pulled tight. It's amazing to see how close the baby's head is to the stitch and to the cervix.

Partner doc thinks it bedrest is prudent and a good precautionary measure. He was kind of apologetic about it, like "if it isn't too much trouble, you really should rest as much as possible." I told him I'd been wondering about fancy's not-so-conservative approach. He said that fancy is the cerclage expert for sure but that he trusts his own clinical judgment (he is a high-risk,perinatalogist also) pretty well and he doesn't like what he sees ESPECIALLY at 26 weeks.

So it's nice to have a doctor worrying on my behalf. I will take to my couch for the foreseeable future. I will try not to go crazy with my kids raiding my snacks, putting my cell phone into driving mode, fucking with my knitting, spilling my drinks, climbing on me, refusing to leave the house, acting crazy and giving my dad a constant hard time. I can't watch TV when they are around unfortunately. Typing with a laptop on my belly is a challenge. Playing mah-jong might ruin my eyesight, cause bad mah jong dreams, and give me a big fat headache like the one I have right now.

But like I told partner doc, the impact of bedrest on all of us will be very minimal compared to the impact of another dead baby or a NICU nightmare and long-term health problems due to prematurity. Obviously I have no problem with the concept of making the sacrifice. That doesn't mean I won't complain about actually doing it. Oh yeah and my backyard, which is mere inches from my couch, is being re-done which means there are guys making a shitload of noise in my yard everyday ALL DAY, the kids can't play back there, the freakin' TILESAW is coming next week, and the whole project will last at least a month. AVE MARIA.

No news is good news

2007-03-06T15:45:00.000-08:00

Nothing going on here. I've been onthe couch a lot in the last three weeks since the first positive fFN. Fancy doc is away this week. I'll have an u/s tomorrow and an exam with one of his partners. I wanted to have the u/s so my cervical length can be measured. The exam will be with a doctor who has never felt my cervix before so I'm more confident about the u/s being an objective measurement of my cervix.

Can't wait to have somebody else stick their hand up me. Maybe it will be fancy doc's female partner. I shouldn't complain. It was my idea to have the check-in while fancy is away.

I'm 26 weeks on Thursday. It's such a crucial time. I want to be checked every week. The fFN won't be re-done until next week when fancy is back. Or maybe I'll shake that off since a negative seems unlikely and a positive is not very meaningful.

I just read, "The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay." LOVED IT. I love a well-written book with well-developed characters.

I've heard for years that"The Wire" is one of the best shows on TV ever. I finally started getting it from Netflix and I couldn't agree more. It ranks up there with the quality of The Sopranos and Six Feet Under. I'm hooked.

Charlotte at Dosmamas is right. 30 Rock is funny. Finally caught on to The Office as well. Obviously I 've been logging lots of couch and TV time.

I finally started knitting for the baby. I'm making her a pair of booties to match a dress that will be handed down from her big sister. Cutest friggin' dress ever. Ivory, sleeveless, empire waist with a crocheted I-cord tie.

One other thought: to all of you who are pregnant or will be pregnant soon dammit: GET YOURSELF A BIG FAT EGG CRATE for your bed. It revloutionizes the sleeping while big and pregnant experience. Getting out of bed and rolling over are miraculously no longer painful ordeals. My bottom hip is no longer being crushed under the weight of me. I'm only 26 weeks but I'm as big as a house. I wish I had one with my two full-term pregnancies. The egg crate, a nice thick one, and a king size pillow to rest my belly on and stick between my legs. Fabulous.

What else? Just did some research that revealed that my brand-new nalgene bottle is #7 PC which is about the worst kind of plastic that you can drink from. The plastic contains bisphenol-A, a science project gone wrong, that causes irregular cell division in lab rats and may be a cause of recurrent miscarriages. Ave Maria.

Check your bottles. "1, 4, 5 and 2, all the rest are bad for you." Check out this link.

http://envirotech.blogspot.com/2004/03/studies-show-that-popular-water-bottle.html

That kind of shit pisses me off. Don't even get me started on the containers that I've been microwaving in. I know, I know. I thought that "microwave safe" meant microwave safe. Apparently it only means that the container won't melt or warp in the microwave. I microwave everything. I'm buying pyrex ASAP.

Check this link for stuff NOT to microwave in.

http://www.deliciousorganics.com/Controversies/plastic.htm#tupperware

Off the soapbox.

Another stupid-ass positive

2007-03-01T19:03:00.000-08:00

Well I got another positive, that is a bad result, on the Fetal Fibronectin (fFN) test. What does it mean? I’m not entirely sure. A negative result would’ve meant that there is a 1% chance that I’ll go into labor in the next 7-14 days. A positive result is less clear. There is a 50-50 chance of labor in the next two weeks, I guess. Maybe higher because I have two positives in a row now.

Fancy doc said yesterday that after one positive result, which I had two weeks ago, there is a 66% chance of the next one being negative. I think he really believed it would be negative. I know that he was really hoping it would be, that’s why we did the stupid test.

I was actually thinking it would be negative/good news. I was visualizing, without much effort, trusty assistant calling with good news. It’s rare that I imagine good things happening. Silly me. But it wasn’t good news.

The cerclage may be causing normal inflammation that causes the protein to show up. Simply stated, the fFN tests for a protein that is present in cervical/vaginal mucus when the interface between mother and baby has been disrupted. The way fancy doc put it was that the positive fFn means that I am leaking fibronectin. There’s no telling why.

I had been resting a lot since my last bad result/freakout. It wasn’t long before I started getting REALLY uncomfortable when I did get up. I could barely sit at a table for more than five minutes. For a while I thought, “it’s a good thing I am resting because I am feeling so much pressure and discomfort.” Then after a week or so I thought maybe I am uncomfortable because I’ve been laying around so much. So I started getting up and around a little more and lo and behold I started feeling better. My conclusion: laying on the couch makes one uncomfortable. Can anyone who has been on bedrest or modified bedrest comment on this? Did bedrest make you really uncomfortable?

Trusty assistant said to rest a lot anyway. I didn’t really address this concern with fancy doc when I saw him yesterday. That’s unfortunate because he leaves town tomorrow and I won’t see him until March 13. So I don’t really know what to do. I guess keep resting to be on the safe side and when I get to feeling worse not to panic; it’s probably just that laying around makes me feel worse (when I do get up).

My fear of pre-term labor has diminished somewhat. I am disheartened by the results but I don’t really feel like they mean a whole lot. I guess there is no way to know what’s going to happen. Having my cervix checked once a week is probably sufficient to catch any changes before there is a real problem. Meanwhile I am 25 weeks today. Still way too early. Survivable but far, far from ideal.

Maybe I am becoming immune to the fear. I’m confused. I don’t know what to think or feel at this point. This post probably doesn’t make much sense.

One thing I am clear about is that I don’t love having a male OB. He comes in, we talk, we joke, he empathizes, and then a minute later his face is in my crotch. And after that he’s putting a finger or two IN MY VAGINA. My husband doesn’t even get to do that and frankly I’ve had so much body trauma that I generally don’t want ANYBODY'S fingers in my vagina.

I’ve always had female OB’s and for good reason. I am WAY more self-conscious with a male doctor. I am painfully bush-conscious. Thank God fancy is old and grinchy-looking. I HATE that moment when he says just slide down a little further and then my ass is hanging off the table and I’m in the most vulnerable and exposed position known to womankind and THEN it’s time to spread my legs. UGH.

The fFN test is the reason I have to go in the stirrups every two weeks All that for a test with so many false positives that I can’t figure out if I should be scared or not. Fuck that stupid test.

My 2-Year-Old Daughter is Wearing a Panty Shield: Moments of Levity in a High-Risk Pregnancy

2007-02-26T14:39:00.000-08:00

There haven’t been very many fun moments in this pregnancy but there have been a few. Who says it’s all bad news (and too much information) coming from Little Miss Sunshine? So how did my daughter end up proudly sporting a Carefree Lite Day Pantyshield? Well, those of you with kids who are mobile know you can never go to the bathroom without an audience. If you’re not quite there yet, trust me, you will be.

Bear with me here for a little background information. In order to help prevent another disastrous infection like the one that ended my pregnancy with LC, I have been using an acid gel nightly. Since what goes up must come down, I use pantyshields to absorb the run-off.

Now I rarely have any privacy in the bathroom because Troll Girl (TG) either hears me go in there or her sixth sense that detects when she might me missing something kicks in and she drops her baby like a bad habit and bolts to my side. Yes, I’ve tried locking the door.

She immediately muscles her way to a full view of the situation. Then comes the commentary: “Mama, you go peepee in your underpants? Mama, you NOT get a treat. Or my personal favorite, “Mama, your underpants a little bit broken.” Then she proceeds to demand a pantyshield for herself despite my efforts to dissuade her; I draw the line when she wants them solely for the purpose of sticking them to her arms and legs. She’s allowed one, which she deftly opens, peels back the paper, and expertly places in the crotch of her beloved brother’s hand-me-down, Bob the Builder briefs. Then off she goes, a big-wheel driving, pantyshield-wearing force to be reckoned with. I stand in awe of this child every single day.

The other funny thing that is happening involves Troll Girl’s use of the Doppler, a hand-held gadget used to hear the baby’s heartbeat. I rented one to combat the force of my catastrophic imagination; that is, I use it to confirm that our baby is in fact alive.

TG loves this gadget and almost every day, sometimes more than once a day, she subjects me to this treatment. It goes like this: she comes marching over to my spot in the couch and says, “Mama, I do your heartbeat?” It’s not really a question even though it is posed as such. Then she grabs the tube of goo from my tray o’ crap, unscrews the cap, and squirts some around the base of the wand. She turns on the device, yanks up my shirt, and positions the wand on my belly. She listens ever-so-briefly, not attempting to actually find the heartbeat, then cocks her head and inquires, “All done?” Then, swear to God, she wipes my belly up and with a little prompting trots off to dispose of the gooey tissue.

The thing that amazes me is how she goes, unhesitatingly, through this routine with the practiced hand of a seasoned obstetrician. I started to think this was fairly normal until Rocket Man’s godmother saw her do it and set me straight with, “_____, I’ve never seen a 2-year-old work a Doppler before.” Once again. Awe.

Off the Ledge

2007-02-22T11:15:00.000-08:00

Fancy doc and Rocket Man talked me down and I feel like I am back to my normal? state of being. My cervix looks good on u/s. It’s 3 cm, down from 3.4, which is virtually nothing, taking the margin of error into consideration. The stitch looks fine. The placenta looks great although a problem isn’t necessarily visible; there is nothing whatsoever to suggest a placental problem. Plenty of amniotic fluid. Blood pressure is normal. Urine culture results coming soon. The baby looks great. The 3-D picture are so cute; I need to find a neighbor with a scanner so I can share them.

My cervix feels good to fancy doc. He spent a lot of time with us as he always does even though he’s got 10 patients waiting. He listened to all my questions and concerns and we joked, not condescendingly, about my reading of medical research and abstracts and basically the 10 hours I spent researching fFN. He really has been great with us.

Basically he said he is not super-concerned about the fFN because the protein could be showing up because it hasn’t completely gone away from when it was supposed to be there. In other words, the presence of fFN is normal early in pregnancy and it is supposed to go away by about 22-24 weeks. It could be that it just hasn’t completely gone away yet. It could be there because fFN is leaking from the placenta. In either case, no signs of pre-term labor is a good thing. Apparently my contractions aren’t a sign of PTL nor is the pressure or the discharge. He views PTL as actual labor that occurs pre-term.

We’ll test again on Wednesday, next week, and then it should be gone. Actually he said there is a 66% chance of a negative result after a positive. Yeah right. That should be interesting. Who knows, maybe it will be negative.

Anyway, he said he is concerned enough about the current result to see me every week and check the cervix and re-do the test. He also thinks it’s a good idea to start with modified bed rest, not because he thinks it will prevent pre-term labor but because it will help me feel better. He was all for us getting a second opinion and he gave us a recommendation of his peer at a local university hospital.

I felt much better after talking to him. He assured me that he thinks my cervix is holding up great, the contractions haven’t taken a toll, we’re watching very carefully for changes, I have no history of PTL (pre-term labor), and the stitch is very strong.

We’ll re-do the test in a week, check the cervix again, rest a lot and in the meantime the baby’s chances of survival increases 3% each day after today. If the contractions increase we will consider home monitoring. If I show signs of PTL, we’ll do a steroid injection to help mature the baby’s lungs. If the next fFN is positive, I will be resting more.

So the panic is over. Emotionally I feel much better. I still feel a lot of discomfort and pressure around where I imagine the cervix to be. I get pretty sore after only a little bit of standing. Sitting up at a table is particularly uncomfortable. I’ve gone from sitting in a reclining position on the couch to a more horizontal position because it’s more comfortable. Fancy doc says that the discomfort probably is the stitch and the pressure on it. I am taking it super easy, partly because I am uncomfortable.

I am feeling more connected to the baby. Seeing an actual picture of her face was very cool. She looks so little and sweet. She kicks A LOT; feels like I’ve got a constant companion living in my belly. I’m really rooting for her to grow and develop. My other babies were so little at birth, 6 lbs, 2 ozs and 5 lbs, 14 ozs AT TERM. Doris Foodle needs to grow!!

That’s all I’ve got for now. Yesterday my son said, “Mama you need to rest so the baby doesn’t die.” This needs to happen. There is no alternative.

Time to get off the internet

2007-02-20T19:49:00.000-08:00

UPDATE: I don't have any new information to report. I'm updating to say how frustrated I am with this situation. I've been considering getting on the message boards but I can't bring myself to go there. Maybe it's the atrocious spelling or maybe it's display names like "sweetluvinmama." I'm looking for advice or guidance or help or somebody to tell me that my doctor sounds a little crazy. Message boards and chat rooms are probably not going to help. I probably should be talking to medical professionals, but I don't have very many of them at my disposal. I left a message for my dear friend who is an ob/gyn so I will get another opinion from her. She tends to be very calm and generally advises that I have nothing to worry about.

Trouble is, I'M WORRIED, PEOPLE. I'M REALLY FUCKING WORRIED. I'VE BEEN THROUGH HELL ALREADY AND I DON'T WANT TO GO BACK. IF THIS BABY DIES I AM GOING TO LOSE MY FRIGGIN' MIND.

I'm not sure what I want. I don't know what I want from fancy doc. I think I want him to worry a little, mostly because if he isn't worried a little then what the hell is wrong with him? This guy does more cerclages than anybody else in the world. He is Mr. Cerclage. Is that somehow skewing his frame-of-reference in a way that I don't understand?

Trusting doctors is what got me into this mess to begin with. Maybe I will mention to fancy doc that I am considering getting a second opinion because I am concerned that he isn't being conservative enough. I think that I NEED to do that. Maybe he can consult with one of his more conservative partners. For chrissake, I've got a bootlace holding my cervix together, I've been having contractions for weeks, I've got pressure and discharge and now this positive fFN. When will this man worry? I KNOW he was wigging when my organs were failing in intensive care but for fuck's sake, is it going to take a disaster to get him concerned?

The thing is, fancy doc is a perinatologist. He is the high-risk guy who gets called in AFTER trouble starts. He does not do routine OB or GYN care. He is my OB ONLY because I left my doctor after the LC disaster and I didn't want to find somebody completely new so he took me on. I think I've hit upon the issue with him. He really is a problem-solver. He doesn't do problem-prevention, routinely. I had to remind them that I need to pee in a cup every visit. I need to find out when the glucose loading deal is so I can get that done. Oy.

If I had an OB/GYN, I would have that second opinion. Maybe it was an error in judgment to go just with fancy doc. I thought it would be better to have only one doctor handling my situation instead of two, one of whom would be a complete stranger to me. Where to go from here?

Bottom line: I am really worried. 24 weeks is the mere cusp of viability, a veritable NICU nightmare, if we're lucky. Good lord. This has been the longest 24 weeks of my life. I guess that could've gone without saying.

Baby Drama Tuesday, Back on Schedule

2007-02-20T15:20:00.000-08:00

Goddammit. When trusty assistant called first thing this morning, I asked, “Are we gonna do this the easy way or the hard way?” Naturally, we’re going the hard way.

The Fetal Fibronectin Test (fFN) results came back positive. What does that mean, you ask? Good question. Here is what I have learned. Don’t quote me on any of this.

A negative result means a 1% chance of going into labor in the next two weeks. Negative would’ve been good.

Positive is much less clear. There is a 40-60% chance that I’ll go into labor in the next two weeks. There are lots of false positives. False positives come from having sex, a vaginal u/s, or a manual exam prior to doing the fFn swab. I did none of those things. False positives are also sometimes inexplicable.

The fFN test measures a protein that is present in the cervicovaginal secretions when labor is imminent. The protein “reflects mechanical or inflammatory damage to the membranes or the placenta.”

There are four situations that can cause the damage:

-activation of labor through the hypothalamus-pituitary-adrenal axis, which is brought on by stress; good thing I’m not stressed out by this whole situation
-a problem with the uterus
-a problem with the placenta such as abruption
-my least favorite, infection.

I was not happy to see infection on that list because as you well know, infection is what ended LC’s life at 23 weeks. The cerclage is a breeding ground for infection, being a foreign body and all. My understanding of an infection is that by the time I would have symptoms, it’ll be too late to save the baby.

I wish I’d been having regular urine and even blood cultures done to monitor any signs of an infection brewing. I have an appt. tomorrow and will certainly be asking for cultures to be done. Maybe we can discover an infection before it gets into the placenta where it is untreatable.

The other problem with the cerclage is that it puts me at risk for pre-term labor, as does incompetent cervix and a prior LEEP procedure. The fFN test is more predictive of labor with women who are high-risk and are symptomatic.

Am I symptomatic? The contractions are certainly a concern. I don’t know why I am having them although I know I had them, albeit less frequently and later on, in prior pregnancies. They could be doing damage to the placenta that is causing the protein to show up.

Another reason that fFN shows up is a problem with the placenta. This reminds me that about my elevated hCG level that was 3x normal. Elevated hCG is associated with placental problems. Fancy doc wasn’t concerned about that, naturally, but it makes sense to me that a placental problem could be showing up now via detection of fFN.

The placental problem disaster scenario reminds me that I haven’t had an u/s since early January for the amnio. Things could be happening in there. I have an u/s scheduled for tomorrow. I am most eager to see what’s going on in there. I love the idea that I can actually have a look in there instead of just wondering.

So far the list of things that’ll keep me up tonight:

-positive fFn, as high as 60% chance of labor in the next two weeks
-cerclage breeding infection, infection causing fFn to show up, infection kills baby
-damage to the cerclage from contractions, causing fFn to show up
-elevated hCG coming back to haunt me in the form of a placental problem
-I haven’t had an u/s since early January
-I haven’t had a urine or blood culture since I can’t remember when
-the pinchy, ouchy pressure that I’ve been feeling could be… something, I don’t know what

So fancy doc, once again, is not concerned. Sometimes I wonder what it will take to raise an eyebrow on this guy. Is he just trying to keep me calm? As if. Tomorrow I want to ask him, “If this thing goes south, will there be anything that you regret not doing?” In other words, “Are we doing everything we can to make this happen?”

During the course of my morning’s research, I came across the ACOG practice bulletin’s flowchart for pre-term labor issues. Basically, regarding bedrest, it says something like don’t prescribe it routinely because it doesn’t work. That really discouraged me because resting feels like the only thing that I can do. I feel safer when I am resting. I imagine that I can keep my baby safer if I rest. Bottom line I think is that I can’t. I can’t keep my baby safe. If this is going to happen soon there is nothing that I can do about it. That, my friends, is depressing.

Stream of consciousness

2007-02-17T13:30:00.000-08:00

I'm not quite ready to delve into the details of LC's birth. Sorry to leave anybody hanging. Clearly it ends badly. The motivation to write this shit down comes when I am at my most anxious and out of sorts. Fortunately, recounting the details has been somewhat of an outlet for me. Seems like I have a little less of the burden to carry around with me.

It’s a shame that now all of you have a little burden in the form of your memories of my horror story. I guess we all take that on when we choose to support each other through this journey; it’s not always pretty that’s for sure. I read your stories so that I know where you are coming from. Man, we are coming from some dark and shitty places.

I’ve stopped commenting on newly-pregnant people’s blogs for fear that they will naively stumble into my chamber of deadbabyhorrors.

Many of you have said how you are impressed (that’s not quite the right word) that I have found the strength and courage to get pregnant again. Depressing as it is to say it but this is not my first post-Big Fucking Nightmare pregnancy. I got pregnant again in April 2006. That pregnancy ended very, very badly at 11 weeks. It wasn’t nearly on the epoch-disaster-scale of the BFN but it was really fucking awful and shocking and horrifying in its own way.

Yes, there is another nightmarish tale of pregnancy loss to come. I barely believe it myself sometimes. The next one REALLY got me down. The aftermath was plain ugly.

The really incredible (hopefully not incredibly stupid) thing here is that after the second disaster, I tried again. For months now I have been saying that this is it for me. God forbid this thing goes south, I am done.

On a lighter note, I saw fancy doc on Thursday and he said my cervix feels good. He checks the cervix by sticking his hand up me basically. He says that he thinks his exam is more accurate than an u/s exam.

Still I’d like to have an u/s (it’s been six or seven weeks since my cervix has been measured by u/s) so my cervical length can be measured; his exam assesses pressure on the cervix but not length. Sounds like shortening of the cervix would cause pressure and he would feel that, but still. I have an u/s on Wednesday. I like the idea of actually seeing what the hell is going on in there.

Typical that I would hear perfectly good news and still walk out of his office thinking about how I’d like to see an u/s measurement before I’ll relax a little. As if anything but a lobotomy could lead me to relax.

I also had the Fetal Fibronectin Test (fFN) done. I should’ve expected stirrups and speculum for that to be done. If I never hear, “Could you move a little further down please?” again, it’ll be too soon. Isn’t that just the fucking worst? Could you hang your naked ass and crotch a little further off the edge of the table and then spread your legs way the hell apart while I turn on my spotlight and prepare to jam a speculum up you? UGH. That’s the worst. Holy self-consciousness. To make matters worse I was in need of a trim. Zero bush-confidence happening. Hellooo, trimming makes me scratch like a flea-infested hound dog. Seriously.

So on Tuesday I’ll get the fFn (I’ve no clue why they abbreviate it that way) results. Basically fFN tests for the presence of a protein that is indicative of impending pre-term labor.

A negative result is highly accurate. If it’s negative then there is a 1% chance of delivering in the next two weeks. If it’s positive then there’s a 50% chance or less of delivering in the next two weeks. So negative is great. Positive scares the shit of you, possibly for no good reason.

Usually those results take a day but since it’s a holiday weekend, it’ll take until Tuesday. I’m not really worried about it. I’m taking it super-easy and will continue to do so despite the results.

Naturally a positive result will concern me especially since my dad is gone for 9 days. We are piecing together coverage for the week. This would be bad timing for a scare.

It’s nice to have my dad gone, especially since my mother came to town on Wednesday. They went off for a vacation. As usual I reverted to my surly sixteen-year-old self as soon as she walked in the door. I didn’t have far to regress since I seem to be locked into my sullen eighteen-year-old when my dad is around. There have got to be some of you out there who know what I mean. All good intentions go to shit when one of my parents walks in the door and my psyche seizes up and clamps down on itself. I can’t bring myself to even have a conversation with my mother. It’s quite awkward actually. Then I feel awful afterwards. Argh. More on that later.

I’ll be 24 weeks on Thursday. My tickers always put me a day ahead so maybe Wednesday.

We’re starting to call the baby Doris Foodle. Sounds crazy I’m sure. Doris Foodle is a character in RM’s favorite children’s book, The Teacher from the Black Lagoon.

I’ve often found that the best nicknames are not the ones that we choose but the ones that choose us. We’ll see if it sticks. For now it’s fun to put a name to this busy little girl living in my belly.

It’s actually time to start knitting something. For Doris Foodle. Don't freak, I would never dream of calling her that after she is born. This is strictly an in-utero nickname.

I think I’ll do a pale pink blanket with cables. Never done cables but I hear it’s easy once you get the hang of it. Question is what type of yarn? It has to be soft but wash-and-dryable. It’ll also need to be soft but not fuzzy so she doesn’t get little hairs on her tongue should she be inclined towards sucking on it. Cashmerino? Suggestions?

Day 2 of the BFN, Thursday cont.

2007-02-12T15:27:00.000-08:00

Before I continue with the BFN, I've been thinking about how, during the first night and next morning in the hospital, I had NO CLUE that the pregnancy was in danger. I knew I didn’t have the flu and I reckon we were thinking about an infection but not in my wildest catastrophizing did I imagine how bad it was. I was thinking maybe the cerclage might need to come out and maybe I’d end up on bedrest but these were my worst case scenarios. When fancy doc first told us about the possibility of an infection in the amniotic fluid, I was COMPLETELY SHOCKED.

Back to the BFN, I was on my way to the OR to have the cerclage taken out. When I got in there, I saw what I thought was a carrier for a tiny baby. It turned out not to be. We pretty much were expecting the baby to come flying out once the cerclage was removed. I had the epidural and then got spread-eagled further than I ever thought possible. I distinctly remember the awfulness of having my knees practically at my ears under the bright lights with a bunch of people with their faces in my crotch. I asked for a sedative but whatever they gave me was very mild. Too bad I didn’t have the same anesthesiologist I had this go-round; I would’ve been unconscious. The horror of being in such a vulnerable position knowing that this procedure was the beginning of delivering my daughter is indescribable.

I recall also that I didn’t want to be too heavily sedated because I wanted to be awake and present during the delivery. Even if my baby was going to die, I wanted to remember the delivery. It was all I was going to have left of the pregnancy and I thought it would be my only vaginal delivery.

At some point during the procedure, a nurse came in to tell me that my mother was in the hallway outside the OR and was making a pretty big scene. You can only imagine how this compounded the awfulness of the situation. Frankly I have a hard time even being around my mother and I did not want her at the hospital at all. I had been very clear about that when I told her not to come. She completely ignored me.

The nurse said that she was pretty upset and was waiting to see me when I came out of the OR. She had staked out the door. The nurse took me out a different door so I wouldn’t have to deal with her immediately. Rocket Man had to go talk to her. It makes me angry just thinking about how astonishingly inconsiderate she was being.

When I got back to my room, my dear friend (DF) had arrived. DF had the pleasure of witnessing my mother’s scene outside the OR. Basically my mom had pulled the old “my baby” routine and was going off about how her baby (me) was in there (the OR). DF had to deal with her and explain that I had asked her to be present for the delivery. My mom went off about how my friends had always been more important to me than her. Duh, none of my friends ever slapped me in the face repeatedly when I was a little girl or beat on me when I was running out the door to kindergarten. I could go on here but I won’t.

Basically my mom threw a gigantic “poor me, my daughter doesn’t want me here" scene as she staked out the door to the OR. Then when DF tried to talk to her, she got mad. Then she did the arms folded, puss on her face routine while she tapped her foot and verbally abused the nurses. Unfuckingbelievable.

Rocket Man spent an hour talking to her while I heard about her horrifying scene from DF. Suffice it to say that DF had heard about my mother for five years and she heard many gory details as we went through some very deep personal work in our graduate program. You know when you tell a friend how awful somebody is and then they’re all, “Oh your mom’s not that bad.” Well that didn’t happen. My mother had WILDLY exceeded her expectations and I KNOW that she was expecting a really crazy person. We actually laughed about it. But then I had to talk to her.

She came into the room doing the “I’m sorry, I’m a bad mother, I shouldn’t have come here, I’ll just leave without talking to you, nobody would care if I die, poor me routine.” I asked why she didn’t listen to me when I said, “Do not get into that car (and come here).” She said, I shit you not, “I didn’t get into the car. I took a taxi.” That was her answer. Never mind that she completely disrespected my needs and wishes on the single-worst day of my 35 years, she was pulling some infantile, semantic bullshit in a mind-boggingly, pathetic attempt to justify her behavior. I couldn’t believe it then and I can hardly believe it now. Mercifully, she didn’t stay long and then it was back to the business of delivering the baby so the infection didn’t kill me.

The next thing that I remember was the worst round of shaking and fever. As it did each time, every three or four hours, it came on suddenly. I got really cold and despite the pile of heated blankets, I shivered violently for 20, maybe 30 minutes. I had to keep something in my mouth so my teeth didn’t clank together; it was way too hard to fight the shaking the keep my jaw still. I tried sometimes to stop the shaking by bracing my whole body and resisting with all of my might but it didn’t even work and it was incredibly exhausting. I tried having Rocket Man lay next to me, or was it on me, to keep me from being so cold and to stop the shaking; that didn’t work.

After I stopped shaking, the nurse took my temperature. It was 106.1. The blankets came off and a frantic effort began to bring the fever down. I was at a maternity hospital so they didn’t have a giant ice-pack type thing to put me in. Somebody was dispatched to try to find one. Rocket Man, DF and our current amazing nurse went to work on me.

They stripped me naked and bathed me with cool washcloths. There was some kind of device blowing cool air on me. I think I started to check out a little here but I do remember it. I actually felt very peaceful and much better now that the shaking had stopped. I was staring at the lights on the ceiling and talking about how I saw a Charlie Brown-looking figure in them. I know they probably started to worry about me even more after I said that but I insisted on it and showed RM what I was talking about. He did see it so maybe I wasn’t losing brain cells by the trillions.

The fever scared the shit out of everybody. After it came down, I checked out. RM and DF later said that I was talking complete nonsense alternating with talking to my living daughter who of course wasn’t there. I lost my sense of time and where I was in the room. I recalled things that hadn’t happened. It was the middle of the night when the fever happened but I don’t think any of us slept much after that. Once again they gave me an ativan that didn’t help me sleep at all and the blood-pressure thing checked my bp automatically every 15 minutes. It was another hideously long night. All hell was breaking loose outside. The flood waters were rising on the worst flood our county had seen in 25 years.

The next day was all about waiting for the baby to come out. I was getting all kinds of meds to induce labor but it wasn’t happening. My cervix wasn’t dilating. They didn’t want to do a C-section because of the danger of spilling all of the infected fluid into my intestines, etc. Also, I was in no condition to undergo a major surgery.

Fancy doc was getting extremely nervous and it started to show, not that I noticed. He came back frequently to check my cervix. I was terrified of the prospect of the C-section and I was also afraid that the delivery would coincide with a fit of fever. I kept trying to talk the nurses and doctors into giving me more drugs to keep the fever down. The drugs didn’t help prevent the fever but I thought that they could if we timed them to head off the fever.

A nurse, one of the ones that I didn’t care for, came back on shift and needed to do something with my IV. Maybe she needed to move it, maybe she was actually drawing blood, but she did it as badly as she had when she first put my IV in. That was another time that I cried out in pain. I’d already been through botched catheters, IV insertions, countless needles and blood draws, a thousand blood pressure band tourniquets, an epidural, a surgery to remove the cerclage. I about lost it when she botched whatever she was trying to do with that needle. I started crying. I hadn’t been crying much. I had been in survival-coping mode.

Shortly after the bad needle, I started having trouble breathing but was afraid to tell the nurse because I thought they might do an emergency C. I told her anyway. Shortly after they moved me to intensive care, which was convenient because my organs had started to fail. I didn’t know until later why the nurse kept frowning at the bag of pee coming out of the catheter. There apparently wasn’t much coming out because my kidneys were shutting down. They also kept checking my blood pressure and asking ME if I knew if I had low blood pressure. I thought this was odd since it had been taken a thousand times in the last two days. The alarm kept going off because my blood pressure was so low.

My veins and arteries were constricting. The bacteria had gotten a foothold in my bloodstream and I had gone into septic shock. I didn’t know at the time how serious this was and how easily I could’ve gone into a coma. On the bright side, the intensive care nurse was incredible.

There was a very creepy moment where the intensive care doctor came in and examined my neck. I didn’t know it at the time but he was checking my veins to prepare for putting in a central line. Since my blood pressure was falling, they wouldn’t be able to use my collapsing arm veins if they needed quick access to my heart and lungs. They needed to put a central line in my jugular vein. That was freaky. I didn’t know why creepy doc was there but I remember him looking at my neck. It freaked me out at the time and it freaks me out retroactively.

Fortunately that morning an infectious disease specialist had been consulted and my antibiotics were redone, maybe just in time to save my life. After they checked my neck, I started to turn the corner. I don’t think I had any fever fits after that.

Fancy doc had been coming in all day to check my cervix. At some point after midday, I started having labor contractions. Having had two scheduled C-sections, I had not had the pleasure of having real contractions. They hurt. A lot.

I was in labor. I was in quite a bit of pain despite the epidural that had been in since the cerclage removal. The anesthesiologist came to check the epidural and added some more meds. It didn’t help. I was in real labor and was having painful contractions. The epidural wasn’t taking the edge off even. It got worse. The anesthesiologist said to call him in 15 minutes if it didn’t get better. It got worse. I called him in 5.

Looking back I wonder (duh) why it hurt so bad. Maybe it was because of the hell that my body had been through and that I hadn’t slept for two nights and I was fresh out of septic shock. Maybe it was because labor contractions are apparently (I’ve heard) as painful at 23 weeks as they are at full-term.

At some point, fancy doc came in to check my cervix and I swear he jammed his hand up me so ruthlessly that I burst into tears from the pain. He expected that my epidural would be numbing the pain so he didn’t think twice about ravaging me. That fucking hurt. I was nearing the end of my tolerating-all-of-this-painful-invasive-shit rope. He bellowed about why the hell my epidural wasn’t working. I had been wondering the same thing.

Oh yeah… for a long while during the labor contractions I wasn’t complaining because even though they hurt, they were bearable and… this part is really sad… I could still feel the baby kicking. I felt her thumping around regularly throughout the two-day ordeal and I wasn’t ready to part with her. I hadn't complained for a long time because I wanted to feel her before she got forced out of her toxic home.

Looking back it's amazing that she was still alive. The infection had brought me close to the brink of survival but she was still hanging in there even in a placenta full of deadly bacteria.

She was 22 weeks, 5 days old. Before the delivery I had fleeting thoughts of maybe, just maybe she could make it. Maybe she could be one of the youngest babies ever to survive. I knew better but there were brief moments of irrational hopes.

Backing up a little, once the contractions got really painful, I was ready for the meds to kick in. DF talked me through them and let me squeeze the life out of her hand. I switched to the bedrails.

RM was in the hallway talking to bad-timing-brother-in-law (BTBIL). I considered leaving this part out but it was part of my experience. I adore my BIL but he has notoriously bad timing. Immediately following my first D&C, back in 2003, we were scheduled to go away for the weekend with RM’s 3 brothers, one of the girlfriends, and his dad. NEVER EVER in a million friggin’ years would I have considered going but for the fact that we were going to have my son’s 2nd birthday party. We planned to have his party on Sunday, after his nap and before our three-hour drive back home. I only went on the trip because I wanted my son to have a nice party.

It was the most miserable weekend of my life. Nobody spoke of my situation ALL WEEKEND. It got worse when BTBIL left us stranded at a lake, unable to go back for a nap when the little birthday boy got tired. When BTBIL and his girlfriend finally came back and we took our son back for his nap, he was so overtired that he threw up in his crib and wouldn’t sleep. By the time we gave up on the nap, we had time for a super-quick cake and presents. Then we had to drive all the way home with BTBIL while I seethed.

I SPENT THE POST-D&C WEEKEND WITHH FIVE DUDES TALKING SPORTS WHEN I WANTED TO BE HOME IN THE FETAL POSITION ALL FOR A BIRTHDAY PARTY THAT WAS FUCKED BECAUSE MY BROTHER-IN-LAW IS AN IDIOT.

Bad timing indeed. To his credit, he really is a good guy and he came to the hospital to bring us some stuff we needed like a clean shirt for RM who naturally hadn’t planned on a four-day ordeal in the hospital.

It just figured that he showed up while I was in full-blown labor with zero painkiller about to deliver a baby that was going to die. After 45 minutes, DF went to retrieve RM. I wanted him there with me and not in the hallway with his brother.

I kept calling for the anesthesiologist and he finally returned and was once again completely mystified. Eventually he thought to check the place where the epidural was inserted in my back. It wasn’t connected. Mystery solved. I had probably sweated out the epidural during the big fever. We got it hooked back up and that was the end of the pain and the end of feeling my daughter alive.

At some point after waiting all day, it was determined that my cervix was ready. It was time to deliver the baby.

My ob/gyn was going to do the delivery. She was the doctor who never told me that a LEEP procedure could cause incompetent cervix and despite the fact that I got pregnant two short months after the LEEP, she never checked my cervix to see how it was holding up. I no longer have a relationship with her but at the time I was thrilled to have her at the delivery. Her father-in-law was dying so we thought she would have to leave but she ended up staying and I was very grateful. We’d been through a lot together during the nine years she was my doctor.

Enough for now. Not looking forward to the next part. I hope you'll keep commenting if you can and reacting if you want. Ask questions if you have them. It was much better to have readers engage after the last BFN post than not say much after the first.

I hope I'm not scaring the shit out of you all. It was really an extremely rare series of events that caused this to happen.

I realized that on the day that I was writing this I was 22 weeks and 3 days pregnant. That’s exactly how far along I was when I went to the hospital with the fever.

Second-guessing fancy doc

2007-02-07T20:00:00.000-08:00

After reading lagiulia’s comments and question, I really got to thinking (as if I haven’t been overthinking this whole thing from the get-go). Basically she asked if I’ve considered putting myself on bedrest at least until 28 weeks or so. I’ve been so worried about my doctor’s seemingly cavalier approach to my situation. I know that he is the best around with cerclages and he probably knows exactly what he is doing but I haven’t been able to stop worrying. Looking back, I wish I had done a little more second-guessing of doctors so I am inclined to keep on questioning him.

I put myself on light duty and decided to have my dad come out to help with the kids because I couldn’t stand the idea of carrying on with a normal activity level. I was way to stressed out about having a normal activity level caring for two kids while having a cerclage and contractions. He agreed that light duty is a good idea but I don’t think he would have suggested it himself.

He said the other day that my history and the B-H contractions that I’ve been having put me at increased risk for pre-term labor. The contractions could start to put too much pressure on the cervix and cause it to shorten or dilate. He said that checking my cervix every two weeks is sufficient to monitor any changes. He said that the cervix changes very slowly, but two weeks sounds like a long time to me. Does anybody know anything about this?

This part bugs me: it seems that fancy doc isn’t completely convinced that I am having contractions. He asked where I felt the tightening and said that the whole uterus should feel tight and that he wanted to be “sure that we are communicating clearly” regarding the contractions.

The crazy thing is that I actually started to doubt myself after he said that. But then when I got home and was on the couch having several contractions, I felt my uterus like he showed me and the whole thing felt hard. It’s easy to feel the bottom half but harder to feel the top because I have more abdomen and intestines and fat in the way. I know what contractions feel like, both B-H and labor ones. I don’t like that I doubted myself and I don’t like that he seems to be doubting me. I hope that he isn’t making decisions based on a belief that I’m not really having contractions.

So the answer to lagiulia’s question is yes, I have been considering putting myself on not bedrest but extra-light duty. My dad is here to help us and he can do everything if need be so he can certainly do more. I think I will take it especially easy for the next two weeks and then I’ll be 24 weeks and we’ll do the fetal fibronectin test.

Does anybody have any experience with these things, i.e. incompetent cervix, cerclage, bedrest vs. no bedrest, fetal fibronectin? I looked at the babycenter message board but it seems to be all questions and no answers. Are message boards a bad idea? Are some better than others? Will I just freak myself out even more by going there?

By the way lagiulia, did the magnesium burn like a mo’fo? I think that’s the “big gun” they used to stop my contractions before we knew I had the infection. I SO do not want to end up in a bad situation like you did where the cervix becomes dangerously short. That’s why I wish fancy doc would be a little more proactive and conservative and prevention-minded. At least I can reduce my activity level myself so I know that I am following my gut and doing some of what I can do to keep this baby in there.

I continue to be awed by your responses to the BFN. I really enjoy (is enjoy the right word?) hearing your personal experiences and reactions to my story. I really encourage the questions. I’m glad lagiulia asked hers because it helped me to clarify some thoughts that I had percolating. The interaction really provides a rich experience that leads to reflection and questioning and ultimately growth. I appreciate the de-lurking and the people who may feel like they are sticking their necks out with their responses. Thanks for engaging, all of you.

By the way, those were real questions about the message boards. I’d really like to hear if anybody thinks they are worthwhile. I’m especially curious about experiences with medical issues similar to mine.

Wow. Now that’s more like it.

2007-02-06T19:58:00.000-08:00

I so appreciate all of your comments and your willingness to engage with me. It feels so much better to share and then receive a response like that. Thanks for taking the time and for reaching back to me.

Catherine- I was thinking of you when I wrote please don’t feel pressure to comment. I know it must be hard, impossible even, to go there. Thank you for going there by reading and your comment about not commenting really was a very touching comment. I often read your blog and don’t comment because I just want to say something good but can’t find the words.

Kari- Thank you for your honesty and for having the balls to say that you secretly thought that losing your baby at 38 weeks was worse than my disaster. I love that you had the guts to say that. Even though you said you changed your mind, I think I’d lose LC twice before I’d lose a baby at term. I can’t imagine anything worse. And I was lucky enough to have two kids at home. I came home from the hospital with a copy of Empty Cradle, Broken Hear yet every night I went in to see my daughter sleeping, I counted my blessings that my cradle was full of a footie-pajama-clad little girl. If LC had been my first I don’t know what I would’ve done.

Ladybug- Having the nurse cry with us like that really did help us deal. The doctors and nurses were so incredibly empathic that we actually sent a thank-you letter and homemade cookies a few weeks later. Their compassion was so appreciated that we actually felt grateful even while the nightmare was unfolding. When times are so shitty like that, it is a real gift, a lifeline even, to feel some gratitude.

To all of you who are reading as you are pregnant and fearful or wanting to be pregnant (and not fearful): This can’t happen to you. This is one disaster that you are safe from unless you’ve had a recent LEEP procedure, ZERO follow-up care, then an incompetent cervix, then a late cerclage. Then a whole bunch of other things had to go wrong for the bacteria to travel up the vagina that far and thru the cervix and then INTO the placenta. It truly was a series of unfortunate events. Fancy doc has seen two infections like this in 20 years. We can all take a little comfort from that, cold though it is. The chance of it happening to me again is infinitesimal. The reason that I say all this is that deadbabyland is a frightening place indeed and we are all brave for being here and supporting each other through the nightmares and their aftermaths.

I really felt so much better about sharing after I read your comments. After the first round I was less than inspired to continue but now I feel better about pressing on. I loved that you shared your thoughts, reactions, and experiences. That’s what I’m here for and I hope that I can provide the same for you.

You really are an extraordinary group of people. Thank you.

By the way, I saw fancy doc today and my cervix is holding up great. I still worry that he is not very conservative and that other doctors would’ve put me on bedrest especially with all of the contractions that I’ve been having. He is taking a wait-and-see approach and says that although the contractions put me at increased risk for pre-term labor, we’ll just check the cervix every two weeks and if it looks good then we’ll carry on with business as usual. It helps my anxiety level to have my dad here and for me to be on light duty. Otherwise I’d be half-expecting my water to break every time I bend over. As it is, I feel like disaster is lurking around every corner. But my cervix feels good and that’s good news now matter how my twisted psyche tries to spin it.

In two weeks I will go back for an u/s and the fetal fibronectin (FFN) test. The FFN measures a protein in the cervical mucus and then predicts whether or not pre-term labor will occur in the next two weeks. It is very reliable when the result is negative but it is prone to false-positives. I’ll spare myself and you all that drama for now.

Thanks again for your responses. My faith in the power and richness of blogland has been restored.

Day 2 of the BFN (Big Fucking Nightmare), Thursday

2007-02-06T10:41:00.000-08:00

This is the second part of my recounting of how we lost our baby at 23 weeks. This took place last December, 2006.

I remembered that during the first night in the hospital and the next morning, my contractions were constantly being monitored. At first I thought they didn’t really think my contractions were real. The nurse would come in every now and then and glance through the pile of paper that the machine spit out. Nobody seemed to care about the contractions. I didn’t think much of them either.

At some point during the first night in the hospital, they started noticing them. They gave me medicine to slow or stop the contractions. I had an IV in me from the get-go so all the drugs went in through there, although I swallowed plenty of pills as well.

At one point they gave me a serious drug to stop the contractions. I don’t know what it was but they said it might burn my arm a little. A little?? There were only a few times during the four days in the hospital that I actually burst into tears from the pain. That was one of them. It burned like the inside of my arm was on fire. An icepack helped a little but man I remember how much that hurt. Looking back I guess my uterus was trying to save itself by forcing the baby out.

During the interminable wait to find out if I had an infection in my uterus, I don’t really know what we did. We called a few friends. Mostly I laid in bed. I don’t think I got out of that bed once from when they admitted me until after LC had been delivered. I had a catheter put in at some point and I had an IV the whole time so I didn’t eat anything.

While I waited, I was lying down watching the door open to see whose shoes would appear under the curtain. I was anxiously and dreadfully awaiting one of my doctors to show up. I didn’t watch TV. I certainly couldn’t read. I cried. We speculated. We waited.

After what seemed like forever and what was actually probably six or seven hours, my ob/gyn came in. She had that look on our face and I knew right away. I don’t remember what she said.
The look on her face spoke volumes and I knew it was bad news.

Fancy doc was also there. I remember what he said. After they broke the news and told me what would happen, he leaned over and put his hand on me and said, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

I’m sorry for your loss.

My loss wasn’t even dead yet. She was still kicking and thumping around in there.

I HATE “I’m sorry for your loss.” Since then I really, really hate it. I know that people meanwell but to me it feels so sterile and impersonal and devoid of feeling.

My loss? My baby girl that wasn’t even dead yet?

While the doctors were horrifying me with the bad news, there was a baby being born across the hallway. I was on the maternity ward so life was going on around me.

The baby was literally crying its first cries while I was hearing that mine was going to die. This definitely added to the horror of the experience but I do recall that when I heard that baby cry, I felt that I knew with utter and absolute certainty that I would one day hear my newborn baby cry. I don’t really believe in God the bearded man in the white robe but if I did, I would believe that it was the grace of god that brought me that certainty.

I kept hearing the Live song, Lightning Crashes.

Lightning crashes,
a new mother cries,
her placenta falls to the floor
the angel opens her eyes
the confusion sets in
before the doctor can even close the door
lightning crashes, an old mother dies
her intentions fall to the floor
the angel closes her eyes
the confusion that was hers
belongs now, to the baby down the hall
oh now feel it comin' back again
like a rollin' thunder chasing the wind
forces pullin' from the center of the earth again
I can feel it.
lightning crashes, a new mother cries
this moment she's been waiting for
the angel opens her eyes
pale blue colored iris,
presents the circle
and puts the glory out to hide, hide.

The certainty that my moment would come, again, has abandoned me at times but I remember that feeling. It was also strange that in the outside world it had been pouring rain for days and that waters were rising for the worst flood in 25 years. Landslides, thousands of lost homes and businesses, downtowns under 4 ½ feet of water, $110 million dollars of damage in our county; it was an epoch disaster in the outside world as well.

The horrid reality of the situation was overwhelming. Oh yeah and I was going to deliver her vaginally. Both my living children were delivered by scheduled C-sections. I had a large fibroid removed from the wall of my uterus, back in ’99, so after that my ob recommended scheduled c-sections to eliminate the 10% chance of uterine rupture. So I was never supposed to have a vaginal delivery at all. I wanted to and I wished that I could. I used to care about that a lot more than I do now.

When they told me that I would have to deliver LC and that it would be vaginally it was like salt in a gaping wound.

I would have to deliver my baby at 23 weeks, knowing that she would have no chance of survival. And I would be having the vaginal delivery that I always longed for. I was going to go into labor and push out a baby and my doctor would hand her right to me.

But then I would have to watch her die.

Isn’t it ironic?

Isn’t it so much more ironic than “10,000 spoons when all you need is a knife?” That’s not fucking ironic. That’s inconvenient.

“No smoking sign on your cigarette break?” Ironic? No. Bummer? Yes.

I do love Alannis but I have always thought she could have dug a little deeper for those lyrics. I digress.

During this nightmare that I wasn’t waking up from, I was having godawful convulsive fits and then spiking fevers that went higher and higher. 103, 104. They always told us the temperature in centigrade so we didn’t always do the math. The fevers were high and my doctors were freaked out.

They originally thought that the infection in my amniotic fluid was e.coli.

Oh yeah and how could I forget this? How did I get e. friggin’ coli in my placenta, you ask? More irony. From my own goddamn ass.

E. coli is present in the colon, rectum, stool, etc. and is also a major cause of your garden variety bladder infection. It is often found in the vagina which I learned is actually a pretty filthy place on a microbial level. The bacteria that I had turned out not to be e.coli but rather proteus mirabilus which was even nastier than e.coli.

The bacteria found its way from my colon or whatever into the vagina and then through the comprised and stitched up cervix and across the friggin’ placenta where it could no longer be treated with antibiotics. I had been taking all kinds of antibiotics since I walked in the door of the hospital the night before but none of it could help save the baby. Apparently, an infection in the amniotic fluid is untreatable when the placenta is intact. By the time you know you have one it is too late.

The baby needed to come out as soon as possible because the infection was a deadly one. It could easily get a foothold in my bloodstream and cause septic shock, coma, and death.

Now on Thursday afternoon the tide had turned and instead of trying to stop the contractions, gears were shifted and labor was going to be induced. But first the cerclage had to come out.

During the day we had called my parents and told them what was going to happen. My mother, whose emotional dysfunction is legendary, was in hysterics. She wanted to come for the delivery. Now this is a woman that I had a hard time seeing on my wedding day. Not in a million fucking years would I want her present at the birth of a viable baby even. For her to be there when I delivered LC was NEVER EVER an option that’s for damn sure and I told her in very clear terms, “Do not come to the hospital.” When she said she just had to jump in the car, I said, “DO NOT GET IN THAT CAR.” She’s so wacked out on xanax that I didn’t want her driving our car anyway and endangering her life or the lives of innocent motorists. Nice that I had to deal with her self-centered infantile bullshit at such a horrible time.

I also called my dear friend and she was going to jump into her car, at my request, and drive two hours to help me through the delivery. I think we all expected that the baby would be delivered shortly after the cerclage came out.

The next thing that I remember was being wheeled out of my room towards the OR so the cerclage could be taken out. As the nurse wheeled me out the door, she paused in the hallway and started crying. She said that she had a baby at home and was just so sad for us. We all cried in the hallway. We were really touched by this nurse.

I didn’t look up on the way to the OR for fear of passing brand-new families.

That’s it for today. Writing this has been harder than I thought.

I appreciate the comments. I know that it is hard to think of something to say. I have trouble thinking of what to say when I read the horror stories.

I do encourage anybody reading this to say something especially lurkers. I kind of feel that if I can say all of this and you are reading it, you can say something. Just please don’t say “I’m sorry for your loss.” Curse words are encouraged. Questions are welcome and encouraged. Interaction is good. Just say what you think or feel.

Please don’t feel like you have to comment now that I’ve said this. I don’t want to shame you into it. I just encourage readers to speak freely and react and respond.

Sitemeter shows that over 400 people have checked my site since I posted the first part of the story and 10 of you left a comment. It feels like my divulgence and sharing has fallen into a vacuum of sorts. You know like when you share something really personal and awful and nobody says anything. That is not to say that I don’t appreciate the thoughtful and heartfelt comments. I really really do.

Okay. Think I beat that dead horse long enough. I'm off to see fancy doc today to see how my cervix is holding up. As usual I have a feeling that the other shoe is going to drop. But it hasn't yet.

22 weeks on Thursday.

How did i get there from here? Long story. Day 1 of the BFN

2007-02-02T22:57:00.000-08:00

My big belly post isn’t sitting very well with me. I didn’t mean for it to come out like, “Oh wah wah wah look at my big, beautiful belly. I look pregnant at six weeks, cry me a river.”

What did I mean? I’m not sure. I did mean to communicate something to the effect of, “Sweet jesus, look at the size of my belly. This is what happens when you are pregnant six times. More specifically, this is what happens when you have three deadbabydisasters.”

I think the heart of the matter for me is this: I’ve been thinking a lot about losing LC and what an epoch disaster that whole thing was. I think the physical experience of having the belly back and feeling a baby kick again has brought me back to the time just before my pregnancy ended so disastrously.

I thought that Christmas was the time for the really awful memories to surface because that’s when it happened last year. But as I approach 22 ½ weeks, which is when the disaster began to unfold, I am finding myself thinking a lot about what happened.

The belly is a reminder. I love the belly but I know all too well that it could be gone tomorrow, leaving me another white plastic box of ashes in its place.

I think this is why I have mixed feelings about the belly. It reminds of how I felt my baby kicking when they told me she was going to have to die. I felt her kicking while I was being induced so I could deliver her. So she could die.

Having the belly is bittersweet. Feeling her kick sometimes brings me to the verge of tears. I can’t lie in bed feeling her kick without wondering if I will end up there again sobbing uncontrollably because she’s gone. Going to bed without her was the worst. I cried myself to sleep for weeks and weeks. Being pregnant with a girl again is a trip down memory lane that I’d rather not take. I think the baby being a girl extra-reminds me of the BFN (big fucking nightmare).

Rocket Man can’t touch the belly without me feeling the uncertainty of the whole situation. Nobody can comment on the belly without me thinking, at least fleetingly, about how the whole thing could end in complete and utter devastation for all of us. I can’t fathom surviving another loss.

My kids are so into this baby. The moments of joy that I’ve experienced in this pregnancy have been watching them talk and sing to the baby. My daughter gives the baby her biggest and cheesiest, chipped tooth grins as she coos to the baby and tries to “pick her up.” They’ve each birthed many many babies out of their own bellies, often at the dinner table.

This has to happen.

I think it’s also time to start writing down the miserable story of what happened. Hopefully it will be cathartic and then I can put some of the fear behind me.

It all started way, way back.
Way back in the days when the grass was still green and….
Oops. Wrong story. Neither one ends well.

Basically when I was pregnant with LC (pregnancy #4), everything went pretty well until my 19 week ultrasound. The first trimester was a little rough. I was miserably nauseous all the time and I couldn’t eat anything that didn’t pass the “burping test,” that is, I considered how it would be to burp potential food source up for hours after consumption. Bowl of cereal? Pass. Just about everything else? No way. I have long described myself as savory-toothed, as opposed to sweet, so this was hard for me. So was all that burping.

But anyway, I made it through the first trimester. I worried about the baby dying and me not even knowing about it for three weeks as in my first deadbabysurprise two years earlier. That baby, pregnancy #2, died at 7 ½ weeks but didn’t bother to notify me until 10 ½ weeks when I started spotting. Deadbabyultrasound #1. I had an unconscious D&C the next day. Looking back, I really had it pretty good. Except the 3-week-dead baby. That really undermined my confidence in future pregnancies. So much for no news is good news.

I was also pretty worried about having a blood clot like with my daughter. The blood clot was my third pregnancy, right after the missed miscarriage. I started spotting and went for an u/s and the doctor diagnosed a large blood clot in the placenta. She said it was probably going to end the pregnancy. The bleeding went on for 10 weeks, on and off, sometimes bright red and terrifying, sometimes brown and old-looking. I was freaked out most of the time. I saw a psychic during the bleeding and she said if the baby did survive, she would have physical problems. After hearing that, I was terrified until my daughter was delivered, 5lbs, 14 ozs of the smallest and fiercest creature I had ever laid my eyes upon. I digress.

So with LC, I made it through the first trimester and to 19 weeks with minimal spotting, no crumpled up babies on the u/s screen. So I basically went skipping into my 19-week Level II u/s, thinking “this has been remarkably smooth sailing.” We knew there was trouble when the technician started frowning at the screen and seemed to be fretting over something. “Interesting,” she said. Interesting is not a word that you ever want to hear during an u/s nor do you want the technician to go get the doctor.

Turns out my cervix had pulled a disappearing act. Four centimeters is generally considered an acceptable length for a pregnant cervix. Mine was 1.7 centimeters. I had no clue what the hell was going, having had no cervical problems whatsoever during either of my full-term pregnancies (son-pregnancy #1 or daughter-pregnancy #2). The doctor that came in said my cervix was dangerously shortened and that we should see a specialist ASAP to talk about having my cervix stitched closed aka cerclage.

Enter fancy doc. I spoke to his trusty medical assistant that night on the phone. She asked me lots of questions, trying to get to the bottom of the case of the missing cervix inches. I had no clue what the problem could be. She asked me if I had had an abnormal pap smear. Oh yeahhh. I had had an abnormal pap smear. Two of them in fact and both fairly recently. I told her about the first funky pap and then the second, follow-up pap that also came back funky with high-grade funkiness. The second pap involved a bigger scraping that was meant to remove the bad cells. The results showed bad cells on the margin so my doctor recommended that I have a LEEP procedure done. “Ohh the LEEP procedure,” says trusty assistant. She had identified the culprit.

The LEEP procedure had been done in late April of 2006. The procedure basically uses an electrical loop to lop off part of the cervix, ideally the part with the bad cells. It was quite unpleasant but it turned out the margins were clear and I promptly forgot all about it and about cervical cancer. Trusty said that the LEEP procedure can cause incompetent cervix. Since the LEEP took place long after my daughter was born and a mere two months before I got pregnant with LC, the mystery was solved. But we had a problem.

We met fancy doc the day after the u/s. He said he thought I would’ve lasted another week or two before I would have gone into pre-term labor and lost the baby. We decided pretty much on the spot that I would have a cerclage put in the next day. He mentioned a miniscule, 1% or so, risk of infection from the procedure and that cerclage didn’t always prevent pre-term labor. Bed rest was discussed.

I had the cerclage put in the next day. I think it was December 7, 2006. The procedure went okay. I was in a lot of pain afterwards and asked for more painkiller. Still a lot of pain, then more painkillers. Unbeknownst to me, the painkillers basically disabled my bladder and so I couldn’t pee when I tried to. After several hours, like 4 or 5, I was in so much pain (from a hugely full bladder which I couldn’t empty because of the pain meds), that I had to have a catheter put in. A liter of pee was drained from my bladder. I left the hospital shortly after and went on my merry, well not really way.

I saw fancy doc a week later and he didn’t love the look of the stitch and so he put me on “do as little as possible, rest as much as you can,” modified bed-rest, house arrest, whatever you want to call it. My dad came out to stay and help us for the duration of the pregnancy. I was about 20 weeks at that point. It was mid-December.

We cancelled our trip to Mexico and went on a little getaway at a fancy hotel in the city instead. I had a great big belly. I got all dressed up and reveled in the fun of being pregnant. I laid around a lot, feeling the baby kick. We knew that we were having a girl (I had a CVS back in the first trimester). Upon hearing that the baby was a girl, I had been just as shocked and admittedly disappointed as I was this current go-round. By 20 weeks, I was well over it and was looking forward to meeting our younger daughter.

I was worried about pre-term labor and I was paranoid about possible symptoms. All of the normal stretchy and pully feelings were magnified. I had a burning feeling that seems like it might be a bladder infection. I made extra efforts to drink a lot of water and cranberry juice. The feeling came and went. Christmas came and went. I specifically remember having the burning feeling three days after Christmas. I thought about calling my ob/gyn but I had an appointment to see her the next morning so I decided against calling.

That afternoon, it was December 28th, 2006, three weeks after my cerclage was put in, I was 22 ½ weeks pregnant. I made goulash and was grumpy. I went upstairs to lie down and came back a few hours later. I was irritated that nobody had started getting dinner on the table. We ate the goulash; it was pretty good, lots of sour cream, minimal peppercorns. Our seven-year-old neighbor ate with us. Rocket Man was planning to meet some friends in the city to watch a basketball game.

After I finished my goulash, I got cold. I put on a sweater or something and layed down on the couch (our brand-new couch that we had just gotten a few days before0. I was still cold. My mom got me a blanket and I started shivering. I sent her to inform Rocket Man that I was cold. I imagine he was like, “yeah, okayyy” but he came and sat with me. I started shivering a lot. Soon I was shaking pretty violently. I had a pile of comforters and blankets on me.

I remember saying goodnight to my son while struggling to keep my teeth from clanking together. I imagine that he was pretty freaked out. After he went to sleep, RM got me something to put in my mouth to keep my teeth from clanking. It was too hard to hold my jaw clenched, resisting the clattering.

Rocket Man called the after-hours clinic. The doctor on-call seemed like she was going to dismiss it as the flu going around but I was yelling, “Tell her about the cerclage.” By then I had stopped convulsing and my temperature was pretty high. The thermometer was so slow, we just gave up on it at 102.7. She told him to bring me in. I saw this doctor five months later and she told me that she didn’t think I would have survived if she hadn’t told him to bring me to the hospital.

We left for the hospital, in the dark, Christmas lights blazing on the cul-de-sac, me with a comforter wrapped around me. I distinctly remember saying to RM, “We better not be coming home without her.” He attempted to assure me that there was no way that would happen. I might have even been reassured. I couldn’t have had any idea of the nightmare that was coming our way.

We got to the after-hours clinic at the hospital and the nurses started checking me out. They monitored the contractions that were occurring I can’t remember how frequently. My temperature was up still. They did a vaginal swab to culture. After a while decided to use a catheter to get a clean urine sample. That was the beginning of days of invasive horribleness. The nurse wasn’t very good at catheters and it hurt like a mo’fo. She didn’t get it right the first time and had to torture me again, spread-eagled. It was quite painful, two nurses working on me. They finally got it right.

We waited. I was reading a book. I was reading The Adventures of Auggie March; literature, for chrissake. I really felt pretty okay. The fever was down, the shaking had stopped long ago, the contractions were mild and infrequent (I thought they were Braxton-Hicks). I was pretty sure I didn’t have the flu because I felt fairly normal.

After a few hours of being there, the urine sample came back clean but with an elevated white cell count. We met the doctor who told me to come in and she said, “I don’t know what’s wrong with you but if you were my sister, I’d keep you here.” That was the second part of her decision that I guess saved my life.

I was very grateful to this doctor afterwards and tried to switch to her when I got pregnant again. Long story short, six months later, she was responsible for my horrifying bathroom delivery of my 11-week-old baby boy into my hand and then the fully conscious, completely unsedated D&C to complete the job.

But, at the time, we liked her. I was checked into the hospital and we debated about whether RM should spend the night or go home so the kids would see him in the morning. We decided that he would spend the night even though he had to sleep on sack-of-springs excuse for a cot. We called my parents and told them to just tell the kids that we left to see the doctor really early in the morning, before they woke up. My son was nearly 4 ½ and very perceptive and sensitive. My daughter was only 18 months and completely clueless.

I don’t remember when the next round of fever and shaking hit. Probably sometime that night. Each time it came on quickly and I shook VIOLENTLY for 30 minutes or so. It felt like forever. I tried sometimes to brace myself and slow the shaking but that was SO exhausting. The nurses covered me with heated blankets and I convulsed like crazy until I stopped. Then the blankets came off and the fever was way up. It happened this way each time, every four hours or so.

They gave me ativan to help me sleep. It didn’t help. Ativan isn’t a sleep aid. I don’t think I slept at all that might. Maybe I dozed off every now and then. I think that was the night they began checking my blood pressure automatically every 15 minutes. How the hell would I have slept anyway? I’ll never see one of those blood pressure things again without being reminded of the whole deal.

I’ll have to ask RM if anything noteworthy happened that night. The next morning my doctor showed up bright and early. I wondered if I would be charged the $35 no-show fee. I hadn’t spoken to her since the cerclage and since we realized that the LEEP was probably the cause of my disappearing cervix. I inquired about why I didn’t know that that could happen. She said it was very rare.

She said they didn’t know what was wrong with me but they were waiting for results of the vaginal swab or the blood culture or something. We waited.

Later on that morning, I think around 9 or so, fancy doc came in. He said that they suspected there may be an infection.

in my amniotic fluid.

They would be doing an amnio to draw some fluid for testing.

This is the part where my world stopped turning.

If there was indeed an infection.

in my amniotic fluid.

there was no way to treat it.

without the baby coming out.

asap.

but she was too little to be born.

22 weeks, 5 days.

she would die.

she had no chance of surviving.

Fancy doc left. I wailed. WAILED. NOOOO, NOOOOOO, NOOOOOO. I freaked. I wigged. I sobbed hysterically. I kicked, I rocked, I held onto my belly for dear life. That was the worst thing I have ever heard in my life. Shocking. Horrifying. Impossible.

A team came in to do the amnio shortly after. I saw my baby girl alive for the last time on the u/s. She looked perfectly healthy. She was kicking and wiggling and looking heartbreakingly sweet and adorable. They gave me a picture.

Fancy doc drew the fluid and said that it smelled good, which was a good sign. He left us with the tiniest shred of hope. He said we could expect to hear the results in the afternoon. Five, six hours maybe.

We waited.

19 week belly shot

2007-01-30T10:16:00.000-08:00

Yes indeed this picture is of my belly at 19 weeks. Small wonder I feel like I've been pregnant for years.

Since my third pregnancy, my belly has gotten huge very quickly. I think it's because my stomach muscles are shot from two C-section deliveries and one C-section uterine surgery to remove a fibroid. And because after six go-rounds, my uterus knows the drill.

When I'm pregnant, friends are suspicious at about 6 weeks. People flat-out congratulate me at 8 weeks without even asking if I'm pregnant.

I don't end up any bigger than other women at the end of the pregnancy. I just get huge much faster which adds significantly to the discomfort because it starts earlier. Good times indeed.

Grumpy

2007-01-29T15:08:00.000-08:00

I’m grumpy for no good reason. Even as I think of my reasons, I think of reasons why my reasons are bullshit. Like my clothes don’t fit and I’m uncomfortable unless I’m wearing sweatpants. But hello, how lucky am I to be pregnant at all? How many people would trade places with me so they could be uncomfortable in stupid-ass maternity pants? Who wouldn’t put on a pair of panel pants in return for feeling a baby kicking in the belly?

Side note: I think the panel actually wasn’t such a bad idea after all especially after dealing with “the tourniquet” aka the band that goes below the belly, cutting off all circulation espcially after 12 p.m.

Here’s the thing that's getting me down or at least it's one of the things. I have been pregnant since August. Of last year. I mean August of 2005. Seriously I got pregnant with LC in August of 2005 and was pregnant until 22 ½ weeks, December 30th 2005.

Then I had three months off from being pregnant but I was pretty busy grieving my dead baby and recovering from a hideous infection. I missed being pregnant because my time with the belly was cut so tragically short.

By April 2006, I was pregnant again, my fifth first trimester. Ugh, the nausea, the exhaustion, the heartburn, the burping only to have that end hideously at 11 weeks on June 30th, 2006. Well it didn’t really end until 5 days later.

The next few months were almost as miserable as after LC. I was coping with such trauma after LC that in some ways I rose to the occasion. After delivering tiny baby boy into my hand in July 2006, I was bitter and angry; that is when I wasn’t smoking weed to take the edge off a near-suicidal rage and depression.

Let’s see after that fun summer I got pregnant again in I guess September was it? Yet another first trimester, my sixth and LAST!!) full of round-the-clock nausea and sheer exhaustion. Oh and the terror, how could I forget that? Oh and two little people to care for while I wanted to crawl into a hole and stay there until this is over. Good times.

I’ve been pregnant for a year and a half (with time off for deadbaby expulsion and a start on the mourning) and I’m just halfway to an actual live baby. That’s 53 weeks of being pregnant and no baby unless you count the two in my kitchen cabinet.

By the time this baby is due, I will have been pregnant for 72 weeks. That’s a lot of work for one baby. Holy hormonal rollercoaster. I rarely attribute my foul mood to hormones but I think maybe I should start.

On a lighter note… is transition possible here… the amnio results came back fine. I was SO over the waiting-for-results thing after my weekend of hell, followed graciously by a round of the stomach flu, that I just didn’t have it in me to worry much about the actual amnio results.

Live baby duty calls. This miserable post is the reason that I haven’t been posting. I’m depressed. But I feel like I should be happy.

Oh and yeah no sex this whole pregnancy. Not even personal attitude adjustments are allowed. Maybe I should start eating more chocolate; it's rumored to contain a chemical produced in the brain during orgasm. But the thought of all that fat going straight to my 53-weeks-pregnant ass is just depressing.

Aren't you glad you read this?

No news is good news

2007-01-23T15:30:00.000-08:00

Nothing exciting or really worrisome happening here. Turns out I didn’t have food poisoning. It was the stomach flu (and a pretty mild case at that, fortunately). This became clear to me when my daughter barfed all over the place the next day. Now Rocket Man is laid out with it. Just my dad and son left to start puking.

My amnio results are due in soon but I really have hardly given them a second thought. I was so completely worn out by all of that stress (and then the barfing)that I just don’t have the stamina to go there again. And I do believe that the results will be fine. Hopefully I won’t start thinking about them now that I’ve written that.

I will see fancy doc on Thursday and we’ll see how my cervix is holding up. The contractions have slowed since I reduced my activity level although I have noticed that I have contractions now when I am utterly motionless. A disturbing new development but so far I’ve only had a few of these each day.

I’ll also check in with fancy about the elevated hCG that may or may not be an indicator of placental issues.

Now the challenge is to keep the baby in there. My benchmarks will be 24, 28, 32, 34 weeks. 22 ½ is when we lost LC so it will be nice to see that one go by.

Soon, at 22 weeks I believe, we’ll start doing a cervical mucus swab that somehow assesses the likelihood of pre-term labor. Now that my dad is here, I am taking it easier and that has reduced my stress about over-doing it.

So things are looking pretty good. Naturally that in itself gives me pause. But I am actually enjoying feeling the little darling move around and I confess I am an egregious offender when it comes to belly rubbing. I try not to do it in public. I has taken me a year to have my big ol’ belly back and I intend to enjoy it. At least a little.

In other news, it looks like we are back on with the project of making dosmamas a baby. I haven’t posted about this much and I am actually not going to now either. I’m glad it’s back on, although I wish it had worked out the way they wanted with their son’s donor.

Eww, Evil Shadow Pregnancy must have had her baby yesterday. She was scheduled for a c-section. I have been thinking more about her on her due date than about my no-longer-due date, which was January 18th. Go figure.

unbelievable

2007-01-21T13:15:00.000-08:00

Went out for much-needed dinner, celebration, and unwinding last night and i seem to have gotten food poisoning fron a scallop. shoulda got the lobster instead. extra sucks because i've have had such a hard time enjoying food of late. nausea, smell sensitivty, and abject terror have killed my appetite.

finally got excited about a meal and then i'm puking up bile.

unfuckingbelievable.

Finally

2007-01-20T16:18:00.000-08:00

Jesus H. Christ at last. Five hours after the promised phone call, the genetic counselor called with good news. Everything looks fine. There are no extra chromosomes, no Downs Syndrome, no Turners, no trisomy. Thank God. I had a relatively good cry and now am relieved and EXHAUSTED.

I had started to think that if the baby had Downs, I would want to keep her. I've been feeling her move for about a week now and am getting quite attached. Nearly thirteen months after saying goodbye to LC, I am feeling a baby move again. It's been a long wait, I can't imagine choosing to give that up. Thank God I won't be faced with that decision.

Next week we'll get the full amnio results. There shouldn't be any new information. I'm not even sure how the amnio results will differ from the ones we just got (FISH results). I know that the amnio looks at all the chromosomes in their entirety so we'll see if there is a structural problem with a chromosome. My plan is to not worry about these results much at all. We should hear by Wednesday or so the genetic counselor says. I won't hold my breath.

Thanks for your support. It does help to know that I'm not going through this alone.

Deep breathhhhhhhh.

STILL waiting

2007-01-20T13:34:00.000-08:00

I left GC a message at 1:00. Still no word from her. I'm really pissed that she said she would definitely call me at 11 and has not done so. And I am getting worked up again, imagining what might be the cause of the delay. This fucking sucks.

I wish I could get the hell out of my house or lose myself in a movie. Can't watch a movie because my son is here.

This whole process has been so much more awful than it needed to be, mostly thanks to the cluelessness of the GC. She knows that I am a wreck. She knows some of my history. That's why she promised to call me at 11 either way. This is really unfucking believable.

Still waiting

2007-01-20T12:14:00.000-08:00

11 am came and went. Last night, the GC said she would call the lab for the results at 11 am and call me no matter what. It's after 12. She's killin' me.

the gc finally called

2007-01-19T21:47:00.000-08:00

apparently the test needed to be run again because they didn't have enough cells in the fluid. so they started another batch and the results should be in tomorrow. the gc said she will call us at 11 am.

what a wild ride. hysteria is exhausting.

6 pm came and went

2007-01-19T19:05:00.000-08:00

First she said that the results may be ready by 10 am today and I should call at 1 if I haven’t heard from her. Then she said I would certainly hear the results by 6 pm. Now I am getting pissed. I am guessing I’m about to hear some bullshit about why I have to wait until Monday. I don’t want to wait until fucking Monday.

I know it could’ve been much worse and many people have to wait longer but it’s a matter of expectations here. If I had known I’d have to wait until Monday I wouldn’t have started to lose it at 10 am this morning. I don’t have the stamina for it. I would’ve waited until Sunday night.

The delay is really freaking me out. I am imagining a variety of things, mostly that the results were bad and are being double-checked or that the results were SO bad and funky they need to be re-processed or whatever. Maybe there was some sort of problem unrelated to the genetic health of our baby and we’ll just be unlucky that we have to wait after being ASSURED that we’d know by now.

The thing that is fucking with me the most right now is that I am remembering being in the hospital, 22 ½ weeks pregnant with a hideous and mysterious fever. After my first night in the hospital, fancy doc came to tell us that they suspected that the infection might be in my amniotic fluid and if it was then I would have to deliver the baby. They were going to do an amnio and then culture the fluid.

We waited all day to find out if our baby was going to die because it was too early for her to be born. I laid in bed, feeling her frolicking in my maybe toxic belly, and watched to see whose shoes were going to appear under the curtain as the door opened. I think we waited 6 or 7 or maybe 8 hours. In AGONY. Eventually my ex-doctor walked in and all I needed to see was the look on her face. My amniotic fluid was infected with what they thought was e. coli and our perfectly healthy baby was going to have to be delivered so I didn’t die from the infection. It couldn’t be treated with her still in there.

Adding to the irony was that I would be delivering her vaginally even though I normally give birth via c-section because of a uterine surgery I had years ago. Yeah so I was going to have the vaginal delivery I had always longed for but I would have to watch my baby die. Good times.

As I’ve waited all day for the results that I was supposed to get by now, I am wondering what they found. I am imagining that there is something so funky in my amniotic fluid that they are retesting it or calling the Center for Disease Control (just kidding about that second part).

I’m afraid I am going to get information that catches me completely off-guard. So I try to anticipate all possible disastrous outcomes so I am less shocked when one comes to pass. It’s a byproduct of being a hyper-vigilant child which came from living in an unsafe home. This catastrophizing as a means of self-defense and self-preservation doesn’t actually work but try telling that to the very core of my being.

Seriously though this delay is fucking me up. It is giving me the idea that something has gone wrong. I left a message, at 6:20 pm, on the genetic counselor’s cell phone and am hoping to hear back from her, if not with results then with an explanation for the delay.

ARGH.

She said I would hear results by 6 pm

2007-01-19T17:38:00.000-08:00

She said i will hear the results by 6 pm. As 6 pm approaches, I am starting to imagine there has been some kind of screw-up and we are going to have to agonize all weekend. I will freak if she says that. I am so stressed right now I am about at a breaking point. This pregnancy has been hardly anything besides constant fucking worry and terror. I am getting so goddamn sick of it especially when it is so acute like right now. I've been waiting for my phone to ring every second of this day since 10 am. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. I wish I could just scream my brains out or zone out in front of the TV. But I am waiting for these fucking results and wait for a stupid-ass chicken pot pie to heat up. It said 20 minutes at 350. I knew better than that but it's been 40 minuters and my kids are 30 minutes past hungry. Their dad is just leaving the city on a Friday no less and they don't want poppop to do anything for them.

18 minutes until 6 pm. Fuckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk.

Still waiting

2007-01-19T16:40:00.001-08:00

I've been waiting all day, freaking out since about 10 am. Fear set in this morning and it has a firm grip on my insides. I can't help but imagine various nightmarish scenarios. I was supposed to hear by 1 so I figured that the delay might be because the lab was double-checking my freakishly funky results or because the genetic counselor was saving the call until she had enough time to deliver the bad news.

She finally called back at 2;30 and said the results just aren't in yet. She assured me I would hear something by 6 pm. Now I figure the double-checking at the lab might be happening.

In the absence of news, I tend to freak out, as if you couldn't tell that about me. I'm wigging right now. It's nearly 5 pm. I'm imagining she'll say it's Turner Syndrome or some other rally funky news but not as bad as Downs. The phone keeps ringing but it keeps not being her. I'm terrified of hearing her voice at this point.

So far, so good, still

2007-01-18T21:06:00.000-08:00

So it's been 32 hours and no gushes of fluid and no fever. I've been laying super-low mostly because I am afraid to do very much and because I am entertaining the idea that being sedentary might help. I am feeling optimistic (what, me?, have I lost my mind?) that everything is going to be okay for now.

I'm not too worried about the results, due in by 1 tomorrow, because there have been no signs of Downs and the combined screening results were so good. Of course, I wonder if I should worry about not worrying? Am I about to be blindsided in a most horrendous way? Let's hope not.

1 more sleep until we get FISH results.

So far, so good

2007-01-17T18:25:00.000-08:00

I’ve been on the couch for 4 hours since I got home from the amnio and so far, no disasters. The technician raved about how beautifully the procedure went. The genetic counselor just about convinced us that the combined screening results (1 in 3681) are much more reliable than the AFP/triple screen (1 in 28). So I am feeling cautiously optimistic especially since there have been no indicators of Downs in any of the u/s’s esp the Level II.

Eventually I will have to pee and I’ll be forced off the couch. After 24 hours I should be in the clear with regards to breaking of membranes and infection. Then we’ll get FISH results by Friday pm.

I daresay the worst is…. Never mind, I’m not going to put that in print. Everything is okay for now.

Apparently all of the panic about the elevated hCG is no big deal and it is more often than not an indicator of absolutely nothing. I about wigged out this morning and nearly convinced myself that my spooky boy son was going to be right about our baby coming out today. The day is not over yet but if i don't stand up, our baby can't come out.

Fancy doc apparently is not worried about the elevated hCG but he sent word that we shouldn’t worry about him not being worried. I’ll see him next week for the two-week cervix and cerclage check.

Thanks for all of the moral support. I’ll keep you all posted.

Baby Drama Tuesday (unscheduled)

2007-01-16T17:18:00.000-08:00

Just after reading about Bri and Jennifer’s good baby news, I thought “this is a good day for baby news.” I’m still waiting on good news from infertilepediatrican but so far the baby scares have turned out to be nothing.

Then my phone rings. It’s fancy doc’s trusty assistant and she has THAT TONE in her voice. She says, “why would things go smoothly?” and I knew. The triple screen/AFP results were due in today. I’ve been thinking about them and how it would be nice to get a good result. I was actually on the other line with fancy doc’s office, inquiring about those very results, when trusty assistant called.

I have a positive (bad) AFP result, she said, and I should talk to the genetics counselor about an amnio ASAP. The results indicate a 1 in 28 chance of Down’s. That’s down from, let’s see, 1 in 3,681 from the combined screening results.

I spent the next several hours on the phone and this is what I’ve learned and concluded.

** I will be having an amnio tomorrow at 1:00. Mr. AFP isn’t available so I’ll be having it with Dr. Dead Baby.

Dr. Dead Baby is the doctor whose face I saw back in June when I was having my second “surprise, your-baby-is-dead ultrasound.” After the “better machine” was fired up for a closer look at our motionless baby I had my eyes closed. Nobody was saying anything so I opened my eyes and the first thing I saw was the look on this doctor’s face. I’ll never forget that look on his face. It told me that my baby was dead, at 11 weeks. My third dead baby in my life; my second dead baby in six months, to the day, 30 minutes shy of to the hour.

On a positive note, fancy doc has assured me that Dr. Dead Baby is tremendously competent and that I should have him do my amnio ASAP, tomorrow. Otherwise I'd have to wait until Monday. This way I will have FISH results by Friday.

** By Friday I will know (I just learned this from Jennifer’s blog) about chromosomes 13, 18, 21, X and Y. We’ll know for sure if the baby has Downs Syndrome by Friday.

** Apparently the triple screen is a state-mandated crappy test that doesn’t do a very good job of testing for Down’s. It measures three things: AFP, HCG, and UE3.

** My AFP, which is an indicator of spina bifida, is fine. She said spina bifida is not a concern but I just read that low AFP is also an indicator of Downs. My AFP is 1.03 which is normal I believe. My UE3 is a little low at .83.

** My HCG is 3.82, which is high. The state considers it high at 2.5. My doctor considers it high at 3.0. High HCG is correlated with Downs but is more often correlated with a problem with the placenta. The problem could take the form of placenta previa, preeclampsia, or pre-term labor. My doctor is more concerned about those things than about Downs.

** The combined screening test (dried blood and NT u/s) is a much better screen for Downs. That score (1 in 3681) and my good Level II u/s are strong indicators of no Downs.

** So even though the high HCG is considered by the state to indicate a 1 in 28 chance of Downs, my genetic counselor said those results aren’t nearly as reliable as my combined screening and Level II u/s results.

** But I’m going to do an amnio anyway. Mainly for 2 reasons: one is so I can have some peace of mind regarding the baby’s chromosomal health and 2) the new research that I read about is true. The risk of pregnancy loss from an amnio is 1 in 1600. A 10-year study has just been completed and the risk is much lower than it used to be. 1 in 300 is the risk according to research that was done 10 years ago and has been fact until recently. So I feel much better about my chances, having heard that this research is now accepted as fact by fancy docs and his esteemed partners.

I partly can’t even believe that this is happening right now and I’m partly not surprised by anything anymore. After an afternoon spent in coping and information gathering mode, I am feeling a shocked about the whole thing. There’s the funky results for starters, the amnio itself, the worrying afterwards about miscarriage and infection, the waiting for the results, and then the concerns about what the elevated HCG really might mean, e.g. serious placental problems.

Then there is my feeling of disbelief that there are more potential problems to be worried about and dealt with. It’s feeling pretty surreal right now.

UPDATE** I'm extra freaked out now because my son came home from school and announced, "Mama our baby is coming out tomorrow." This from the kid who was in the ER two nights in a row after we lost our last baby because he had excruciating stomach pains. We never figured out what was wrong except we later realized that the pain started the day of the bad ultrasound. He knew about this current pregnancy before we told him. So it freaks me out that he made this announcement. Our baby had better not be coming out tomorrow.

Time for a new ticker and for my dad to arrive

2007-01-14T15:56:00.000-08:00

I guess it’s time for a new ticker. What’s the next milestone that feels manageable? 24 weeks, I think. The very cusp of viability. I’ll have to get to work on that soon.

For now, I am enjoying my last moments of peace and quiet before…GET THIS: Rocket Man and my son are on their way to the airport to pickup my dad who is coming TODAY to stay with us until JUNE!!! No shit, I swear to god. My father who is still married to my can’t-even-think-of-a-one-word-descriptor mother is coming today to help us out until the baby is born. I’m sure he’ll stay for a few weeks afterwards also. So 5 ½ months??!!

I can hardly believe it. It’s quite a concept to wrap one’s feeble brain around. Let me start by saying this: I get along with my dad much better than I have ever gotten along with my mother. He is tremendously helpful and capable and the kids like him and even though we’ll all be sick of him after a week, he is going to be a huge help.

He cooks, cleans, does laundry, drives the carpool, spins the kids around and lets them ride him like a pony, bathes and puts the kids to bed, gets them up in the morning so we can sleep in on occasion, babysits for days on end, and strangely seems to love doing it. He loves his grandkids and relishes any opportunity to spend time with them. Unlike my mother, he can carry on a conversation.

He cancelled his trip to Antartica so he could help us get this baby here. Last year when I went on modified bed rest with LC, he cancelled a trip to Australia.

Why is he coming you might ask? We have been planning on him coming at the end of February, at 24 weeks, to help us make it through the rest of the pregnancy. We don’t know if I’ll end up on bedrest; it just depends on how my cervix is looking every two weeks.

Since Christmas Day, I have been having lots of Braxton-Hicks contractions. I started them early with my other pregnancies but I am having them much more frequently this time around. And I have 25% less cervix and there is a bootlace holding it together. The dangers that lurking now are infection from the stitch and pre-term labor.

With LC, my cervix was dangerously short at 19 weeks (SURPRISE) and a rescue cerclage was put in place to save the pregnancy (didn’t work). I got a deadly infection in my amniotic fluid, from the stitch and the pregnancy had to be cut short at 22 weeks to save my life. In addition to the danger of infection, there is also the possibility of pre-term labor. Just because a bootlace is holding my cervix together doesn’t mean that I won’t go into pre-term labor. My cervix could funnel down to the stitch, the stitch could slip, my water could break…. All really bad.

Anyway, I am worried about the contractions, even though I know there aren’t labor contractions. At 18 ½ weeks, I’ve got a long way to go. I don’t want to take any chances. I just want to get through this and then NEVER EVER get pregnant again.

Since the contractions increase dramatically with my activity level, we decided to have my dad come early. Fancy doc thinks it’s a good idea although he isn’t phased by the contractions. He just thinks that since my cervix looks good that the contractions aren’t causing any damage to the stitch or pressure on the cervix. I don’t want to get to the point where the stitch is damaged so I am going on light duty.

So for the next five or so months, my dad will be living with us in our not-that-big house where there are few places to hide from anybody. I am going to try to keep in mind whenever possible that he is doing us the biggest favor ever and that we are all doing this so we can get this baby here safely. It’s a temporary situation and one that we are lucky to be in, having him here to help us that is.

By the way, I am feeling better about having another daughter. I am getting used to the idea, just like I did last year when I was also having another daughter. I have my concerns, lots of them in fact, but I am working through them. There are more posts there for sure. Thanks so much for your comments; they really helped me move into a different space about the whole thing. Not sure where I’d be without you ladies. I am grateful.

Drumroll please

2007-01-09T20:11:00.000-08:00

The baby is perfectly healthy and even appears to be well-behaved and cooperative. My cervix looks and feels just fine.

Turns out that I lied when I said I truly just wanted a healthy baby. When the technician said, “Are you ready? It’s a girl,” I started to cry. I started to cry and I didn’t stop for about an hour. I cried all through the u/s and through the attending doctor’s quick visit and into the waiting room to see my doctor.

I cried because my heart was hoping for a boy.

I cried because being a girl has been so hard for me. Being a daughter has sucked. Being a sister has sucked. I think I would’ve liked being a daughter-in-law but my mother-in-law who I really really liked died of brain cancer almost 10 years ago.

I cried because I always thought and hoped and felt that I would hold a baby boy, my baby boy, in my arms again someday.

I cried because the last time I was to hold a baby boy of mine was in July and he was dead. My tiny baby boy seems even more dead now. My dreams of having a live baby boy are over. Over.

I cried because my dreams, hopes, wishes, feelings, hunches, intuitions, expectations were all wrong. My vision of a third child, a boy, completing our family were wrong. That vision is what helped me decide to go through this again.

I cried because I was crying. I didn’t want to be crying at my u/s unless they were tears of joy.

I cried because losing LC and tiny baby boy will never ever make sense to me now.

I cried because maybe this baby will die like LC because we’re not meant to have a second girl. But there will be no more babies for us so unless a boy is going to show up in a basket on the doorstep, it’s not going to happen.

I cried because there is more grieving to be done and I wanted to have less grief, not more.

I cried because I felt like an ungrateful asshole.

I cried because I really wanted her to say “it’s a boy” and she didn’t.

I cried because there has been so so much crying and I wanted to not cry anymore.

I am finished crying, for now, maybe for good. It needed to happen. I will be just fine. I was fine last time and I will be fine this time.

I did have the great pleasure of feeling her first unmistakable kicks tonight. Maybe she is sending me a message, “hey mom, simmer down, it’s all good.”

Thanks, tiny daughter. I’m listening, I really am.

Just hoping for a healthy baby

2007-01-08T19:11:00.000-08:00

As my big u/s approaches, I am caring less and less about the gender. I haven't even been able to work up the angst to post about it. Truly I want good news about the baby's health and I will be satisfied. Me satisfied? Okay maybe I am overstating it a little.

Okay, I’ll take a quick shot at why I am terrified of having another daughter.

Not necessarily in order of importance:

***I was afraid to have kids for most of my life because my mom and I have a, how shall I put it, not so great relationship. We've never had a good relationship. One of my first memories of her is her pounding on my back as I ducked out the door to go to school. I think I was about 5 or 6. As she was wailing down on me from her nearly six foot height, I was screaming "I hate you." Not exactly the makings of me dreaming of having a daughter someday.

I didn't want to have kids for most of my life and up until after my wedding because I was afraid to have a daughter. I was afraid she'd tell me to go fuck myself before she turned five. Or three.

***Being a girl has been so painful and I was/am reluctant to have to watch anybody else go through it. Vicious little friends in first grade. Backstabbers from elementary through high school graduation. I left for college and I didn’t call and I didn’t write. I never go back there.

Body angst, eating disorder-type issues, insecurity, too many sexual encounters that were unsatisfying, figuring out how to really enjoy sex, selling myself short. I could go on forever. Being a girl seems much harder than being a boy.

***I met a psychic once (she was waiting to present at a conference at my husband’s work) and confided my fears of my husband dropping dead. She took a quick look at him and said, “Oh honey he’s got light all around him. Go, be happy and have babies.” I was like, “Huh? Babies? We’re not planning to have kids.”

She just looked at me and patted my arm and said “two boys and a girl honey” and she walked off. Her pronouncement has stuck with me for 10 years. Because a psychic said it or because it rang true? Who knows? I can’t tell anymore why I’ve long felt that our third child would be a boy.

***I was SHOCKED when I found out that our third child, the baby we lost at 22 weeks, was a girl. I mean shocked, as if I didn’t believe it was possible.. It took me a while to adjust. I even thought, well maybe we won’t actually have this baby and we will end up with a boy. I did adjust and was completely on board long before we lost her.

The baby that we lost this summer was a boy. That kind of fucked me up a little extra.

So here we are again. Having a boy would feel like a big, cosmic puzzle piece just clicks intro place for me. Losing LC will make more sense than it does now. Losing the next baby may never make sense but having another boy will help.

***Besides I like boy stuff. I die over little boy clothes. I’d rather build and play with trains than dress dolls. I am a tomboy.

***My daughter, oh yeah, the girl that I was afraid to have is HELL ON WHEELS!! She screamed her ass off for the first seven months of her life. Then just screamed half of the time for the next seven months. I was a wreck. She is the fiercest creature I have ever laid eyes upon. She seems to like me okay so far but she’s only two and a half.

I am thrilled to have her. I am CRAZY about her. I admire her. I am up to the challenge of growing through this experience of having a daughter. But isn’t one enough?

***Me, the mother of two teenage daughters? It has never really seemed possible. But two boys? Sure they’ll do really stupid things like drive drunk but I am not AFRAID of them. I have always been more comfortable with men. Men aren’t mean or petty or backstabbing or vicious or passive-aggressive like women are. Women are scary. Men are easy. They are often rather simple and uncomplicated.

Bottom line is I will be thrilled with a healthy baby. If it’s a girl, I won’t be as shocked as I was when LC turned out to be a girl. But I’ll be a little confused. For so long, I’ve had a FEELING that our third would be a boy. And a preference, I admit.

But I am sure that people have “feelings” all the time and that doesn’t mean those things come to pass. I just want to find out. If it’s a girl, I’ll have my little process and then go about the business of falling in love with her. If it’s a boy, then at the end of the day I’ll feel like things make a little more sense.

I don’t mean to be the ungrateful brat that my mother often said I was (nice, huh?). It’s just that this is some complicated shit.

Bottom line: I’ve been through hell to get this baby here. Whoever is coming will be welcomed with the most open of hearts. He or she is already welcome, even though I just said all of that stuff about having a girl. As I’ve said, it’s complicated.

(((Healthy baby)))

i'm here, i'm fine

2007-01-05T13:28:00.000-08:00

I'm here. I'm fine. It was sweet of you ladies to inquire about my well-being.

i am okay. my nanny, aka completely passive-aggressive biatch from hell, quit with no notice so my free day and a half vanished. now i'm full-time with the kids and my son is still on vacation. and i'm trying to put my feet up whenever i can, not so conducive to posting or visiting. i wish we had a laptop. suddenly i am visiting preschools and having zero time to myself except in the evening when i am wrecked and need to be horizontal. here's where the laptop would come in handy. i do check in on some blogs but don't even take the time to say hello. sorry.

the doppler has been great!! every few days i check in and find a nice strong heartbeat. rocket man has a knack for finding the heartbeat so it has been nothing but reassuring.

mu big u/s was moved up to tuesday and now that i have an emergency babysitter, we are all set to ge a good look at our baby on tuesday the 9th. i could change my ticker but i won't bother.

4 sleeps until we find out if our baby is healthy and has all the proper organs. can't wait!! still dying to know about gender so i can start to fantasize and attach and imagine and get connected to this baby. knowing about gender really helps me do that. it cuts through the terror and stimulates the bonding. tuesday at 1:15. i hope i'll get to post about my gender issues and why i prefer to have another boy.

Happy Anniversary to Me

2006-12-29T19:37:00.000-08:00

One year ago today, December 28th, is the day I sat down for dinner, got cold, and ended up in the hospital with my doctors telling me that my amniotic fluid was infected with a deadly bacteria and I would have to deliver my baby even though she was too little to live. Happy anniversary to me.

On that shitty day last year, I was exactly three weeks post-cerclage. Today I am three weeks and 1 day post-cerclage. I made it through yesterday, the crucial three-week mark without even realizing that it was the day. I thought it was today.

So here I am one year later with a three week-old cerclage and I just finished eating dinner and I’m not cold at all and it seems there’s a pretty good chance that I won’t end up in the hospital tonight. Tomorrow anything can happen but I feel safe for tonight.

In the weeks before disaster struck out of the blue, the only possible symptom that I clearly remember is a burning, bladder-infectiony type of feeling. It came and went and it was particularly noticeable on the 28th. I was about to call my ex-doctor about it but since I was supposed to see her anyway on the 29th, I shook it off. Turns out I did see her on the 29th but I was in the hospital and she was telling me that my baby was going to have to die.

Anywayyy, I’ve had a similar burning feeling off and on in the last week or two and it was particularly noticeable yesterday. I had my blood and urine drawn on Tuesday and so at least I could look forward to the culture results. They came back today, clean.

So does the bladder-infectiony type feeling mean that I am to come down with another untreatable infection? Only time will tell.

The fun never ends here nor does the suspense. At least I feel like I am going to make it through today.

LC’s birthday/deathday is December 30th. 5:36 p.m. We spent last New Year’s Eve in the babyless dungeon of the hospital in a state of complete and utter fucking shock, body and soul ravaged by the nightmare of the previous four days.

On the night of LC’s birth, the area we live in was also being ravaged, by the biggest flood in 25 years. There was landslide across the street from our house. Thousands of homes and businesses were destroyed. The storm seemed congruent with our personal disaster.

Good times.

I do have this to offer however. I am reading "The Birth House" by Ami McKay. This passage struck me last night.

"You don't gonna cry, neither.
You got to say a prayer instead.
We make our tears into prayers...
not to beg or plead with God,
but to remember the stuff we are made of."

I don't know what this means to me exactly. It does remind me that, even though I am a nervous wreck and I have a bad attitude, I am one tough mo'fo.

I survived the godawful year of the two deadbabydisasters and, occasionally, I am even profoundly grateful for the gifts I've been given.

Happy Goodbye 2006!

Terror, anxiety, insomnia, more terror, and finally some tears

2006-12-27T19:24:00.000-08:00

Since my last post my emotions have run the gamut. Once I got over the flashbacks that came with the Christmas tree, I actually started to feel quite grateful for my two beautiful and healthy children and all of the riches that life has provided me with.

We were having a really nice Christmas day and I was feeling pretty good about everything until the contractions started. With each of my three pregnancies that lasted long enough, I started the Braxton-Hicks contractions at about 16 weeks. No idea why. But on Christmas day they came clustered closely together and were more intense than normal for such an early stage in my pregnancy (15 weeks, 5 days). Naturally, I freaked.

I had an ultrasound on the 26th and my cervix and stitch look fine. The guy who did the u/s, I’ll call him Al the Automaton because he displayed no evidence of having a heart or a soul, was a complete a-hole. (He did check the baby’s heartbeat which was 144, down from 166 last time. When I expressed concern about the drop, he repeated twice, “160 to 140 is considered the normal range.” I forgot to ask fancy doc about the drop so I’ll just have to assume that the drop is okay. I got my Doppler today and heard a heartbeat that seems to be in the 150’s by my count so I am pretty convinced that the baby is alive and has a normal heartbeat.) Anyway, the sound was off when Al the A-hole checked the heartbeat so I couldn’t even hear it. He reluctantly took a cursory look at gender and then snapped, “The legs are shut.” Fucker. Worst u/s tech I ever had and that’s sayin’ something.

Anyway, I saw fancy doc after the u/s and he was completely unfazed by the contractions. He seemed relieved that there was no damage to the stitch from the contractions the night before. I hadn’t considered that as a possibility so naturally that freaked me out a little especially since as I said he isn’t worried at all about the contractions. No need to take it easier, no need to drink some water and lay down (standard advice for the gazillion other b-h contractions that I had with other pregnancies). As long as the contractions don’t continue in the event that I happen to lie down, there is no reason to worry about them. He said if they become problematic, then he can put me on indomethicin. Now, I’m not dying to go on bedrest here but why in the hell would he put me on meds before suggesting that I lie the fuck down?

Naturally I didn’t get good and worked up about this until later, conveniently when Rocket Man and I were out for a rare dinner by ourselves. I am worried that fancy doc isn’t more worried about contractions at barely 16 weeks. He said, “Well that’s just your uterus.” Granted I have the very same uterus but my friggin cervix had a ¼ of itself lopped off and now it has a fucking bootlace holding it together so I don’t go into labor at 20 weeks like I was about to with LC. I don’t trust my cervix one bit or my uterus for that matter. Guilty by association the uterus is.

After the appointment I worried my self into a frenzy even by my standards and RM and I argued and it got ugly. I accused him of resisting the notion of bedrest partly because tremendous pressure will fall on him. He got mad. I went to bed upset. And terribly anxious. I couldn’t explain to him how completely and utterly petrified I am all the time that something is going to come out of the fucking blue again and that my baby will be torn away from me for the fourth and final time. I don’t know how I’d survive it. The aftermath of the infection/LC disaster was a big fat fucking nightmare and the wake of this summer’s disaster got almost as ugly in some ways.

With every ounce of my being I fear having to go through something like either of those again. I was human fucking pin cushion for four tortuous days in the hospital as they stuck things in nearly all of my orifices as they frantically tried to figure out what the hell was wrong with me, how to stop the contractions, how to start them again, how to induce labor, how to prevent another fever of 106.1, how to treat my infected uterus so I didn’t die from septic shock, how to keep my organs functioning as we waited for the baby, how to get my baby out for her to die so I could live.

I can’t ever do anything like that again. I think I handled the entire fucking nightmare pretty goddamn gracefully from start to finish. Then what happened?

I get pregnant again and my baby turns up dead at 11 weeks with out a single fucking warning sign and I have to wait 5 days for a D&C but I deliver, thanks to trusty misoprostol which was supposed to “ripen” my cervix, the baby in a horrific scene into the palm of my hand and then have to get a D&C anyway without any fucking anesthesia WHATSOEVER.

This is my LAST pregnancy. I’ve been pregnant six times in six years. I have two kids. If this thing goes south, the devastation will be complete and permanent.

The fear is so ingrained in me that I have lost touch with what is reasonable. I can’t separate paranoia from intuition or intuition from paranoia. In a way I feel like I’m walking through a forest in the pitch dark and I am straining my every sense to figure out where the danger might be coming from. My fear of being there in the first place is overwhelming my other faculties and I’m locked into a constant state of near panic. I am working so hard to depress the anxiety that I am barely functioning in life. I wish I could just curl up in bed and somebody wake me when it’s over. The fleeting moments of relief are so insubstantial in comparison to the fear that I don’t even think that I would miss much.

This morning I woke up at 4:15 and couldn’t fucking go back to sleep. Once I get up to pee, I am screwed. Insomnia seems like about the worst kind of torture that I could endure right now. I read until 6:30 when I finally started to feel a little droopy in the eyes. Then out of nowhere a stream of tears that eventually turned into a torrent. I guess the dam finally broke.

Most of the time my terror manifests as anxiety and depression, both of which can make me a little unpleasant to be around. I was kind of relieved and empty-feeling afterwards as if I’d just a gigantic pus-filled boil drained. I’m sure I could have slept like a baby for hours. It was a partly welcome relief to not just feel so bitchy and nit-picky and uptight and why-didn’t-fancy doc-do-this or-say-that and nothing makes me happy and my cleaning lady doesn’t clean under stuff and why are we doing this anyway. I could go on and on. Actually just quaking with sobs for our dead babies and my horrifying memories and my abject terror at going through anything like that again was a relief of sorts.

I realized why I was so mad at Al the u/s A-hole and it was because the u/s provides me with the opportunity for a brief moment of relief and joy and connection with the baby growing inside me. It’s a shred of hope and wonder amidst round-the-clock catastrophizing. It’s the only chance I get to feel connected to this baby and to the idea that this baby might actually live to be born, alive. I think that’s partly why I am so eager to find out if it’s a boy or a girl, that is so I can connect and imagine and fantasize a little.

After a whirlwind of emotions I am feeling a little more grounded. I checked the heartbeat with the Doppler twice today and it gave me some peace. After the first time, I felt a surge of an actual appetite. Small wonder that I’ve had no appetite. Being completely fucking petrified and depressed is not so conducive to hunger, at least for me.

I’m still worried that fancy doc is being a bit blasé about the contractions. I feel like I am worrying more because he isn’t worrying. I think he solves problems when they become problems and I’d very much like to prevent a problem. Not sure where I’ll come out on this one but I can see the issues a little more clearly after my big cry. Even on five hours of sleep.

boringness

2006-12-20T17:11:00.000-08:00

I have nothing to post about and no energy to come up with something. I have no news. My next doctor's appointment is next week on December 28th. I am worried all the time about coming down with a fever and then an infection that can't be treated. Basically my understanding is that if I get another infection there will be no way to save the baby.

I was thinking of asking my doctor if I could go in once a week, to their satellite office that is near my home, and do a heartrate check and a urine sample. But their local office is closing so I'd have to go into the city every week to do the heartrate/urine sample thing. I already go every two weeks for a cervix check.

My thinking was this: my neighbor is a doctor and she said that generally babies don't just up and die all of the sudden but rather that their heartrate first gets slow or fast and from that you can ge a clue about something going wrong. I took that to mean that maybe we could see from the heartrate if something like an infection is starting to brew and affect the baby. The urine sample could also provide a clue by checking my leukocytes to see if white cells are elevated which would be another clue about a brewing infection.

I really hate the idea that I can't know anything about what's going on in there and that an infection won't be obvious until it's too late. For clarification, the type of infection that I speak of is the kind that I got last time. It was in my amniotic fluid (it's called chorioamnionitis) and couldn't be treated because the antibiotics don't go through the placenta. It was too late anyway.

I got the infection because of the cerclage so naturally I worry that it could happen again. A cerclage at 13 weeks is safer than 19 weeks as far as infection is concerned but there is still a risk. I am putting acid jelly up myself every night to help keep the vagina more acidic and less hospitable to an infection. I am taking acidophilus. I am trying to avoid sugar although I am not sure if sugar actually does encourage infection.

Basically as December 28th (the day last year that I went into the hospital with a bad fever at 22 1/2 weeks) approaches, I am getting more worried and more depressed under the weight of it all. It came COMPLETELY out of the blue so it's hard to feel secure that this all won't go to shit in the space of time that it takes me to get a raging fever. I wish I could just get a fucking grip and enjoy the baby that is presumably trying to grow in there. But I'm still just miserable.

I guess I did have something to post about after all.

Oh and there's this; Does anybody have experience with renting a Doppler? Did having it do more harm than good? Did you nearly drive yourself crazy with it or was it helpful?

Here's a dilemma: What to say on the holiday card

2006-12-16T11:20:00.000-08:00

Oh what to say on the holiday card. Do we just say "Best wishes for the new year" as suggested by shutterfly? One lesson that I have learned this year is that in some cases it is better to just not go there. Clearly the holiday card could be one of those times.

But there is a part of me that wants to say "Hope 2007 doesn't suck as much as 2006." Naturally I won't go there. I hope Santa doesn't bring you a year full of dead babies. Not great for the holiday card.

I am now trying to think of a creative and a little subtle way of saying something that reflects the trials of this year and the hope for the coming year. Last year we announced that we were expectign a baby in April. Not going there.

Somebody posted about a writer's take on finding grace during shitty times. I thought his name was John Caldwell but a blog search doesn't help me. Does anybody know what I'm referring to?

I don't have much time for this because we want to send the card today. I'll probably just go with shutterfly's suggestion.

By the way, thanks for the help with the ticker. Sorry if I seemed a bit slow. I thought that posting html code in a post would just end up with the code in teh post. I should've tried it. Thanks for being patient with me.

I just couldn't do the ticker that was white and cheerful. I should put it back up so you can see how wrong it was. I also couldn't keep a ticker that ran to the end of the pregnancy. That's way too remote to set my sights on. The Level II u/s seems like a manageable goal.

I hate this ticker

2006-12-14T12:17:00.000-08:00

This ticker sucks, as far as I'm concerned. It just falls so completely short of capturing the situation. I liked my "walking on eggshells until the end of the first trimester" but I didn't like that you couldn't see those words. The words are black so they don't show up. Ticker factory doesn't seem to have a white background option although I don't even like the white background. It's way too... white.

What I need to do is put the ticker in a post that stays at the top of the page. Somebody's blog had a ticker in a post that stayed at the top. Who was that and how did you get that post to stay at the top?

I'd like to do a "walking on eggshells until this baby is in my arms alive" ticker but it has to be in a post in order for the words to be seen. Can anybody help me with this?

One down, one hundred to go

2006-12-12T19:37:00.000-08:00

My first post-cerclage check-up went well. The stitch looks good, my cervix is nice and long, and the baby is even alive and appears to be well.

Once I saw the live baby, albeit very briefly, I relaxed a little and the tech moved on to check my stitch. She freaked me out when she said she needed a little help evaluating the stitch and then she left to “go get the doctor.” Naturally I was suspicious and I was even more worried when she returned with not one but TWO doctors. That’s two high-risk perinatalogists for chrissake. Swear to God. (The last time I had two doctors brought in to an u/s they both ended up frowning at my dead baby.) But apparently there was no cause for concern and everything looks fine.

Turns out fancy doc filled me up with some sort of foaming gel that stays in for a few weeks so that’s why the tech couldn’t make sense of all the “foreign bodies’ that she was seeing. Whew.

Another little surprise was that my bladder has been stitched into place. Its place, apparently, is covering my cervix. A diagram would be helpful here but I’ll just leave it up to the imagination. I don’t quite get the layout either. But at least now I think I know why I’m still in pain.

Something fun and wildly original to look forward to: the bladder stitches will start to dissolve and they’ll come out looking like pieces of angel hair pasta. I do appreciate that heads-up from fancy doc. No chance of mistaking bladder stitches for cervical stitches because the latter look just like his thick, brown shoelaces. Ouch.

That’s enough imagery for today. Oh and the tech said it’s too early to determine gender. She said 16 weeks would be the earliest. My next check-in is in two weeks but it’s with fancy doc only so I doubt he’ll be investigating for me on his crappy little machine. I’ll certainly pester him to check it out for me, for what it’s worth.

For sure (well almost), we’ll see something at the Level II ultrasound two weeks after that, around January 12. In the meantime I’ll explain why I care so much and I’ll be busy getting used to the idea that the baby is going to be a girl. Actually that would be the baby is already a girl. Me, the mother of two girls. I think I hear the swamps of hell starting to freeze over. More on that later.

P.S. I will be deeply and completely thrilled with a healthy baby, boy or girl. I just need to get over the shock of having two girls.

P.S.S. When the tech was measuring the baby who was frolicking around adorably, I was busy talking to fancy doc about the cerclage and our game plan for the next 26 weeks. She finished looking at the baby right when we finished talking so I missed my chance to really connect with the notion of the little tyke's actual existence. I did get some good pictures, which is nice.

Baby drama Tuesday

2006-12-11T19:34:00.000-08:00

It wouldn't be Tuesday with out a trip to see fancy doc. Tomorrow I'll have my stitch checked out to see how it is looking. I have a real u/s scheduled as well, not just the five-second there-don't you-feel-better crappy u/s that fancy doc does. He wonders why I don't feel better after a five second look at the baby. I need it to sink in. I have to process a wide range of emotions as I work my way towards real relief and joy. Anyway, I should get a decent look at the baby although the purpose is to see my cervix and the stitch. I am eager, to say the least, to find out about gender so I’ll be asking about that. Anybody know when gender can reliably be determined from u/s?

I am half-expecting some sort of bad news, just out of habit really. I am still quite uncomfortable from the surgery, more so than last time. I am afraid that I am going to hemorrhage any minute now, even though I haven’t been bleeding much at all. I am afraid that the stitch has slipped or that my cervix just didn’t take it well. It’ll probably be fine.

After his exam, fancy doc will pronounce his opinion on what my activity level should be. This is no small deal considering that I am full-time mom to two small children. There is a lot of schlepping, carrying, walking up and down our stairs, bending over 1000x a day involved with their care. It just doesn’t feel right for me to be doing all of those things. Even if he says resume normal activity, I am too paranoid to do so. Maybe it’s paranoia, maybe its intuition. How the hell do I tell them apart?

Christmas is depressing

2006-12-09T18:40:00.000-08:00

The main reason I feel so depressed is that this time last year the biggest and most utterly devastating disaster of my 36 years was about to happen. I was 20 weeks along in an ill-fated pregnancy.

Last year, I had a cerclage put in on December 8th and then three weeks later, 3 days after Christmas, I came down with a fever. I was minding my own goddamn business, eating some fucking ghoulash THAT I MADE, and I got COLD. Then I got really cold and started shaking. I went to the hospital. I came home four days later, on Happy Fucking New Year’s Day. My baby stayed behind, in the morgue. She had a heart-shaped face, like her big brother. Christmas was retroactively ruined. I can never eat goulash again even though I love it. Life as I knew it ended with that fucking bowl of stew.

Today we went to a tree farm to cut down our tree. We did that last year. Last year at the tree farm we got a cute picture of the four of us. I was visibly pregnant. We put the picture on our holiday card that announced we were expecting a baby girl in April. This year at the tree farm I didn’t feel quite as cute and pregnant. I felt a grim reminder of the disaster that was about to unfold last year at this time.

Every year when we put away our Christmas stuff, I write a letter to myself to be opened the following year. This year I opened last year’s letter. It was a sad letter as it had been written one week after the BFN (Big F*cking Nightmare). I closed the letter with “I’ll always remember this year as the Christmas that took my baby away.” Sadness. The reminders are everywhere and in everything.

I suppose I should be grateful that I am pregnant again. I am grateful. But. While I was moping over my dinner tonight, Rocket Man asked how I was. “Contemplative” was my reply. “About the past, present, or future?,” he asked. “It’s thinking about the past that makes the future so scary which is why I can’t enjoy the present.” Therein lies my dilemma. I can’t not know what I know. I could get another infection from the cerclage and it could happen too early for my baby to live.

At the same time while I am writing this I am reminded that I don’t want my whole pregnancy to suck because I was terrified the whole time. What if everything turns out fine? I will have ruined it all by obsessing just like I did with my living daughter.

Before I stop obsessing for the night and repair to the couch for a few belly rubs, there is the matter of another reason I am depressed by Christmas. Somehow this reason isn’t as present for me as the spectacular disaster of last Christmas. I almost, not quite, have to remind myself. Oh yeah, I’m also miserable because I was supposed to be due in 5 weeks with the baby that I lost this summer. Oh yeah, that little boy that I held in my hand after birthing him in my bathroom. I should be washing baby clothes for him. Except that his ashes are in my kitchen cabinet. I would’ve been almost there and instead I’m here. Waiting. To see if the other shoe is going to drop.

27 weeks to go. Today it hardly seems possible.

it's over, the cerclage that is

2006-12-08T10:12:00.000-08:00

The cerclage is over. I'm HEAVILY medicated and super-dizzy. It went well. The anesthesiologist is my new best friend. I was out cold for 2 hours and don't eevn remember my legs going in the stirrups. I was numb in the heels and butt, from the epidural, for about five hours which seems like a little much. i'm pretty damn uncomfortable and heading straight back to the couch. Thanks for checking in on me. I got home late yesterday and was way too uncomfortable and not feeling good to uppdate my blog. I'm so glad it's over. It was an emotional day.

Good news, weird dream

2006-12-06T13:46:00.000-08:00

Last week when we decided not to do the CVS, Rocket Man and I did go ahead with having our blood drawn for chromosome mapping or whatever it’s called. The genetics counselor called this a.m. to say that everything looks perfectly fine. One of fancy doc’s colleague’s suggested, because of the two 1st trimester losses, that we do the chromosome thing to see if we have an unbalanced chromosomal translocation. I didn’t really understand what we were looking for and now I don’t have to. Whew.

Lat night I dreamt that fancy doc and I were trying to start a fire in a stainless steel stock pot with coconut husks. The fire wouldn’t start because the husks were wet. Then fancy doc stuck his face under my chin and sniffed me, slowly, all the way to my belly button. Then he sniffed me again from the back of my neck down to my hips. Then he said, “You know what they say about infections?” I looked at him expectantly and he said, “They smell.”

The implication was that he could smell that I had an infection. I had an instant of horror and terror for the baby and then mercifully I woke up. I think it scared me so badly that some automatic shut-off switch in my subconscious just ejected me right out of the dream. I couldn’t go back to sleep and it was 4:45.

The smelling thing in the dream is interesting because after we found out in the hospital that I might have an infection in my amniotic fluid, I had an amnio to withdraw some fluid for testing. Fancy doc held up the shotglass size cup of fluid and smelled it. He said that often infected fluid smells infected. Mine actually didn’t smell infected.

Not sure what to make of this dream. It actually doesn’t freak me out much more than I am already freaked out. I think I’m at some kind of a freaked-out plateau. Who am I kidding? If I really thought about it, I think the dream would scare me even more.

Tomorrow morning we’ll get up at the crack to be at the hospital by 7:20. I’ll have a quick ultrasound right before the surgery so we can make sure the baby is still alive. I won’t even go there right now with what might happen if the baby is dead. Hey I guess I could get a quick D&C since the OR will be reserved. Perhaps I could just have my tubes tied right then and there. Enough, ENOUGH.

I will get an epidural for the procedure to answer one of your questions. To answer another question, I have to have the cerclage but I didn’t have one with my son or daughter’s pregnancies. My cervix has been deemed incompetent.

After the procedure I’ll be in recovery until I can move my toes. Last time I had a cerclage put in, I was in a lot of pain afterwards and asked for more pain meds. The meds that they gave me caused my bladder not to function so I couldn’t pee when the time came to pee. My bladder filled up from the IV fluid and caused a great deal more pain. They gave me more pain meds not realizing that the pain was partially caused by my distended bladder. The cycle continued and I was EXTREMELY uncomfortable by the time, about six hours after the surgery, that they put a catheter in and drained a liter of pee out of me.

I am usually fairly tolerant of pain I think but man that really sucked. I plan to try to deal with the pain on my own as much as possible because THE LAST THING I want to happen is to have another catheter. In my mind, catheter = infection even though the doctors don’t think that my infection came from the catheter. Why take any chances? It is well-documented that catheters introduce infection. I’ll be peeing as soon as possible unless of course fancy doc nicks my bladder which is one of the risks of the surgery. I’ll ask for a squeeze bottle and we’ll pull out all the stops to get the pee flowing.

Enough about peeing already. I should be out of there by 1 p.m. or so. There’s a 5% chance that I’ll be kept overnight for observation. Naturally I’ll be eager to get the f*ck out of there ASAP. Less time in hospital = less exposure to funky hospital germs = less chance of another infection that forces the premature delivery of my perfectly healthy baby.

Unfortunately it seems that I’ve also equated cerclage with dead baby. I know that I need to have one or I will surely deliver too early which will equal dead or severely premature baby. I’ve considered just going on complete bed rest and not having a cerclage at all but the numbers look really bad in that scenario. My doctor has put in 2,000 cerclages in 20 years and he’s seen an infection like mine happen one other time. Those numbers look pretty good except that I was one of the unlucky ones.

Doing a cerclage this early in a pregnancy is much safer than doing one at 20 weeks, where I was last time. My cervix is nice and long and will be less susceptible to infection. The acidophilus will help restore my good bacteria after 5 days of antibiotics plus a mega-dose in the hospital. I’m pretty conflicted about the 5 day course. The evidence says that it doesn’t help. I personally don’t like the idea of wiping out my beneficial bacteria, hence the acidophilus. Is there a doctor in the house who cares to weigh in on the topic?

Now that I’ve whipped myself into a frenzy, I’ll sign off. Thanks for listening. I meant to spend this time writing about how I got into this mess in the first place. Some other time.

Coming soon: A trip down memory lane

2006-12-03T21:10:00.000-08:00

I haven't been posting because I've been either away, catatonic, at the friggin doctor's office waiting 45 minutes for a 5 minute appt., or feeling overwhelmed by the bigness of what I have to write about. For now suffice it to say that on Thursday I will be getting my cervix stitched up.

The last time I was fully spread-eagled in the stirrups, my cerclage was being taken out so my perfectly healthy baby could be delivered to her death (at 22 1/2 weeks gestation). That ill-fated cerclage, that caused an infection in my amniotic fluid, was put in on december 8, 2005. thursday is december 7th. my doctor wanted to schedule it for the 8th but i opted for the 7th. my trip down horrifying memory lane will start almost exactly one year later. can't wait. i've asked to be put under general anesthesia for the surgery but fancy doc said no.

i'm probably not making sense here. it feels like time to share what happened with the cerclage/infection disaster but that feels like such a huge undertaking. i never even managed to tell the sad, gory tale of this summer's deadbabydisaster. i'll probably never get around to deadbabydisaster #1.

For now the good news is that we had yet another ultrasound on thursday. i went in for a "pre-op" visit, which consisted of fancy doc listening to my hear and lungs. since i was there, we took a quick look at little sprout who was, mercifully, alive especially since my 5-year-old son was with me. Where I got the balls to bring him INTO the room is beyond me. Perhaps I was feeling confident since I had seen a live baby 48 hours earlier. This is the kid who said the other day, "We already have two babies that died. I hope this baby doesn't die because that would be bad." I wish I could protect him from this but it is not possible. Two weeks ago a four-year-old girl at his preschool said, "Are you having another babeeeeeeeeeee?" When you are getting outed by a preschooler, there is little chance of your own kid not noticing your protruding belly. He's making plans, big plans, for this baby so I might as well start too. We are "all in" here.

Next step: Get my cervix stitched up and try, for 27 weeks, not to come down with an infection that nearly kills me. Baby steps.

Change of plans

2006-11-28T20:11:00.000-08:00

(I wrote this hours ago but was not able to edit and post it until now because Rocket Man was hogging the computer.)

The baby looks great, once again!! The little creature actually looks a lot like a baby now. Arms were waving and legs were kicking and the heart was beating. I launched the little guy off its resting place when I had to cough for the u/s technician. There is a real live baby in there and it bounces up when I cough. Whoa.

Regarding the CVS, well… I didn’t do it. We got the results of the combined screening test after the nuchal translucency u/s was done. I did the dried blood test two weeks ago so I could reserve the option to do the combined screening. Today they did the NT u/s anyway (I guess they do that routinely when you’ve got the dried blood results to combine with the NT u/s) which consisted of measuring the neck fold and plugging a number into the computer. The results were really good. The chance of Down’s is 1 in 3,681 and the chances of the trisomies is 1 in 6 thousand or so.

We were going to do the CVS anyway because we read that the combined screening misses Down’s 10-15% of the time and trisomy 10% of the time. Those numbers freaked me out and the CVS doc confirmed them. However, that is not to say that my chance of Down’s isn’t still 1 in 3,681. That’s the part that I hadn’t understood. I thought that the test being wrong 10-15% of the time meant that my great number could be COMPLETELY wrong that frequently. Apparently that isn’t true.

We were confused by this information today (and I still am a little) but it boils down to this. There is a 1 in 3,681 chance of Downs and there is a 1 in 200 (maybe 1 in 250 in this practice) chance that the CVS could cause a miscarriage or an infection that could also end the pregnancy. Upon being assured that this was essentially the situation, I decided against doing the CVS. One in 3,681 is a much more palatable risk than 1 in even 250 or 300. I could not deal with the idea of walking out of there and having to wait to see if my baby was going to end up dead knowing that it would be MY FAULT this time. When I thought about having to wait to see if I was going to start bleeding or suddenly get a fever again and then end up losing my baby, I got teary and decided no f*cking way. It’s kind of crazy that we misunderstood the risks and nearly did the CVS but I feel clear that we made the right decision. There was just no way I could feel okay about taking that kind of chance, 1 in 200, when our chances of Downs are 1 in 3,681.

I hope that makes sense. I bet that some of you understand the statistics better than I do. I put a note in my post from a few weeks ago where I quoted those stats so people don’t get confused. I am relieved and actually happy for a change.

After I posted this mornings cranky, pessimistic post, I was feeling bad about being so negative. I wanted you all to know that I do try to give myself pep talks and I do try to sing a different tune every now and then. So then I was taking a shower and I had an epiphany of sorts. While I was busy lathering up, I multi-tasked by also catastrophizing about the baby turning up dead on the u/s. I imagined that I would immediately ask for a shot of a sedative, as if they would have one laying around. It was then, during my “daymare” (as opposed to daydream or nightmare), that one of the less vocal members of the committee in my head pounded her fists on the table and screamed, “NO WAYYYY!! That is not going to happen. ENOUGH ALREADY. There is no f*cking way that is going to happen.” It was as if some part of me was, understandably, sick of listening to the parade of potential horrors and just rebelled. (It’s funny because I have been rebelling against something for most of my life but the one taking most of the beatings is me.) So I am standing there in the shower feeling better and really feeling like there is no way that Christmas is going to be ruined and I am not going to see another dead baby and my family isn’t going to have to endure my falling apart after losing a fourth and final baby. We are having a baby dammit and that kid is going to be so adored by his brother and sister, not to mention his parents and it’s all friggin’ good. That’s it. There’s a happy ending to that anecdote. Oh and a valuable lesson for me I think is that sometimes it’s good to not only let yourself go there but to go maybe a little too far so even you can’t stand it and a part of you gets strong and fights back.

That’s all I’ve got today. I’m good for now. Thanks for the love. Right back atcha.

Deep breath

2006-11-28T09:13:00.000-08:00

I've been away and been grateful for the distraction the change of scenery provided. Now I'm back, just in time for the CVS today at 11:15. Naturally I am singing the same old tune and that is one of being panic-stricken. Oh how I wish I could have a different frame of mind but that is just not available. Fear of the deadbabyultrasound is in my cells. It's part of who I am.

The second deadbabyultrasound shock was the one that really did me in. And it was so recent that I can think of nothing else today. On the bright side, I am hopeful that those of you innocents who read this will not be infected by deadbabyterror merely because you've read this. I think, and hope, that it has to happen to you for the fear to really take hold of you. I HATE the idea that I am IN ANY WAY spoiling the pregnancies of people who have read this blog.

Shortly I will leave for my appointment. Foremost on my mind is getting through the moment when the baby is either alive or dead. I so fear that moment.

If we get through that moment, then I will get a good look at the baby and I will ask the technician how the neck fold and other measurements are looking. We aren't doing the NT u/s but I am hoping to get a little information anyway.

Once the u/s and CVS are over, then we wait. I go home and wait to see if the CVS will cause a miscarriage, as it does in 1 of 200 cases. I think we are in the clear after 48 hours. I will inquire about what can go wrong post-CVS and how you know it is going wrong.

After we clear the danger zone then we wait for the news of genetic health. Having not experienced bad news from a genetic test, I am aware of the possibility of a bad result but I don't fear it with every ounce of my being. Hey, I think I caught a break there.

One step at a time here. First, shower. Then, drive. Then, hold my breath until we see a heartbeat.

Thanks in advance for your encouragement. I am glad to know that people are thinking postitively on my behalf. At least somebody is thinking positively and I really do mean that. I want to do it but I find that I just can't.

Still alive and kicking!

2006-11-21T16:52:00.000-08:00

The baby is alive and its heart is beating. The little creature, after laying motionless at first and freakig me out, waved its hand and kicked its legs. My doctor asked why I still had a frozen look on my face and I didn't know why. My heart was pounding so hard that we could see my artery looking like a beating heart.

The u/s was about 10 seconds long on a machine with lousy resolution. Fancy doc gave Sprout a quick look and then pronounced him/her to be the picture of health. I guess I was hoping for a little closer look or possibly, most improbably, an impromptu measurement of the neck fold and assurance that the genetic health looked excellent. So my expectations were a little high as far as hoping for a clue about genetic health. Fancy doc assured me that his guesstimate of the heart rate to be in the 140's jives perfectly well with last week's heart rate of precisely 167. Naturally, I was on the lookout for a declining heart rate.

I didn't feel the tremendous wave of relief that I felt last u/s but I wasn't scared half to death today either. The baby is alive and that's great news. I'm working on letting that sink in and trying to shelve genetic health concerns so I can get a moment's peace here.

The baby is alive and it waved. Pretty freakin' cool. (Huge sigh)

Thanks for the good vibes. I was desperately trying to kill time this morning and welcomed the distraction.

Paranoid Tuesday

2006-11-21T10:00:00.000-08:00

As my 2:15 ultrasound approaches, paranoia is setting in. I think what is happening here is an attempt by my subconscious mind to anticipate disaster and in doing so consider all possible indicators of impending disaster. I am trying desperately to prepare myself for a shock even though I know that any such efforts are completely futile.

Possible indicator of impending disaster #1:

Rocket Man returned home from his business trip last night only to find me WIDE-AWAKE on the couch at 10 p.m. Awake. Wide-awake even. Not passed out and bound to be super-grouchy when he wakes me up to haul me off the couch and into bed. Not fallen asleep mid-stitch with my knitting in my lap. Not drooling on myself with my glasses pressed uncomfortably into my nose leaving an angry purplish-red dent when I take them off. Wide awake.

Come to think of it, as I did when he found me awake, I was awake at 10 the night before also. Flashback to June 29th when I was also not passed out on the couch two nights in a row. I wondered back then what the hell was I doing awake? What happened to my customary 1st trimester exhaustion that lays me out every night by at least 9 p.m. I remember thinking, back in June, why I was suddenly awake two nights in a row. I found out why the next day: dead baby. Yes folks it’s true. My paranoia is such that awake at 10 p.m.= dead baby alert. Welcome to Crazytown.

Thank God I won’t have to suffer the anxiety for too much longer. Today’s anxiety that is. After today’s ultrasound, a new panic will slowly take hold, peaking by next Tuesday’s u/s and CVS.

Possible indicator of impending disaster #2:

My nausea has eased up quite a bit. Last week it went AWAY for a few days. Naturally I got pretty worried about this. Flashback to deadbabydisaster #1 back in August 2003, when at 10 ½ weeks I said to my ex-doctor, “I actually feel good. What’s going on? Is that baby still in there?” We both kind of laughed it off. Oh, the naiveté. The baby was still in there of course but it wasn’t alive. It had died three weeks before and didn’t bother to notify me or my placenta.

My nausea has returned, thank God, but it’s not nearly as bad as it was before last week. It could be tapering off because the placenta has failed to take over progesterone production from the ovaries and maybe it’ll turn out that there is a progesterone problem after all and we never did do another blood test to see how the progesterone numbers were looking…. Argh.

Possible indicator of impending disaster #3:

These aren’t actual indicators they’re just things running through my tortured mind. 10 ½ weeks is a big hurdle for me. Deadbaby #1 was discovered at 10 ½ weeks. Deadbaby #2 keeled over at 10 ½ weeks. I am a day past 10 ½ weeks today. Memories… like the corners of my mind, misty-water colored memories. Ugh.

The possible chromosomal translocation that fancy doc’s colleague mentioned is pushing its way from the back of my mind. If there is a problem, it will become apparent soon, which leads me to Today’s Obstetrical Fantasy.

I am hoping that at the u/s today fancy doc will call in a colleague or somebody who is experienced with neck fold assessment. Not in that uh-oh I better go get the doctor/another doctor way but in a since you’re here let’s tell you how good Sprout’s neck fold looks way. We are passing on the NT u/s but I am hoping that somebody can have a look at the neck fold today since now is an appropriate time to measure it. To complete the fantasy, somebody will suggest putting the dried blood test results with the NT measurement and we’ll end up with an impromptu comb*ned screening which will show us amazingly good result. We’ll still do the CVS next week but at least we’ll have some good news to think about in the coming week.

A girl can dream, right?

I’m off to shower so I can feel confident about my freshness for the possible cervical exam. Ooh I forgot to factor in concerns about how my poor cervix is doing. It has proven that it can’t be trusted and I am never confident about what it might be up to.

That’s it. I think.

Tuesday’s coming. Must be time for more drama.

2006-11-19T13:49:00.000-08:00

Tuesday is officially baby drama day. Not to make light of it because Tuesday is really hideously scary, holding my breath, watching three deadbabydisasters flash before my eyes, NEVER going to do this again day. Tuesday is also my day off from the kids, the living ones, that is. That’s why I schedule my appointments on Tuesday. I’ll never take my kids with me again to an ultrasound just in case my baby turns out to be dead. Been there, not going back.

On Tuesday I have an appointment with fancy doc, the high-risk perinatalogist who is my sole OB/GYN provider at this point. I will have my incompetently-behaved cervix checked for early signs of more bad behavior and then we’ll do an ultrasound. Scratch that. WTF am I saying???????? We will do the ultrasound first. Never, ever again will I spend any length of time discussing my pregnancy, cerclage, BIRTH?!, whatever only to find that we really need to be discussing scheduling a D&C. I will never again put myself in a position to hear fancy doc say, after a TWO-HOUR (or 10-minute) discussion of the game plan, “Let’s just have a quick look” only to be shocked beyond ordinary comprehension by a motionless, crumpled baby, at 11 weeks. We’ll do the ultrasound first, right there, no waiting for a bone-headed technician to ask if this is my first baby.

On Tuesday I will be 10 weeks, 5 days which is 1 measly day past where our last baby died on us. 10 ½ weeks is my second and last 1st trimester deadbabydisaster milestone/hurdle that needs to be left behind. After we get past this one (I had to resist adding an “if” back there) then it’s on to the CVS and then the cerclage and then the 22 ½ week hurdle, then the point where a baby could live if delivered immediately because I get another deadly infection. I digress.

Backing up a little, every ultrasound gives me fresh hope that we’ll be expecting a baby in June. On Tuesday it will be a huge relief, once again, to see a live and kicking little tyke. The 10 ½ week hurdle will be behind us and I can fly off for Thanksgiving knowing that my baby was alive at 10 w, 5 d. I will try not to think about the possibility that its heart could stop beating right after the ultrasound. Believe it or not, I am trying to have a positive attitude about all this. Scary that this is me actually trying to have a positive attitude. I am hoping that if I write these things than I can release them a little and think about them less. Unfortunate that those of you reading this might be infected by awful things you hadn’t even considered. Such is life in deadbabyland.

Next Tuesday, the 28th, I will be genetically counseled and then I will have a CVS. I has been planning to do the combin*d screening/NT ultr*sound but have recently decided against it. What clinched it for me was this: The combin*d screening test misses Down’s syndrome 10-15% of the time and trisomy 10% of the time. Those numbers are way too big for me. ((***Editorial Note: These numbers misrepresent the facts. I found out today, 11/28/06 that these numbers don't paint a complete picture and I decided against having the CVS because my combined screening numbers looked really good. See my post on 11/28/06 for more on this***)). Obviously that doesn’t mean that a baby will have Down’s 10-15% of the time but still. Rocket Man’s childhood friend just had their 3rd child and that the baby has Down’s was a complete shock to them. Their comb*ned screening numbers looked great. The doctor who will do my CVS is the best in this area and among the best in the country. My placenta is well-positioned for a transabdominal which is great because we can’t take the chance of pissing off my testy cervix. (My cervix apparently held a grudge when a cm and a half of it was chopped off two months before I got pregnant with LC. Unfortunately I had no idea that the lopping off of a ¼ of my cervix might pose a problem for a future pregnancy. Hindsight. Harumph.)

On a different note altogether, I haven’t been posting or reading because I’ve been feeling like shit and having a cold. I have also been stewing over the unresolved aggravation regarding ESP and her email back to me. After I got her response I was distracted by the spotting that started. Less than 24 hours after my good ultrasound, I was back to be-atching about ESP. I really hate this about myself; I celebrate good news for way less time than I stew over bad news. For me homeostasis is dwelling in and on the negativity. I don’t know how to be any other way. It’s exhausting. I hear that great things are being done with electroshocktherapy. Maybe I’ll try that after this pregnancy is over. Joking. (BTW, I was also joking about me doing housework. No danger of me picking up a vacuum.)

I appreciated all the insightful comments regarding ESP. Let me assure you all that I would not have given her a second thought if she weren’t a NEIGHBOR. Our little neighborhood is small and intimate. I have to work hard to avoid her house and in doing so I am avoiding other friends and neighbors who live right near her. I will have to see her at neighborhood events of which there are many and our kids will go to the same school. She is also one of the few neighbors that has kids as young as mine and she’s the only one having a baby. Blah, blah, blah. These things are what make it hard to let go.

I hate the angst that I feel when I walk out my door. It’s like her house is haunted and I feel its bad vibes. UGH. Furthermore, I HATE not having the last word. I really wanted to send a reply but have resisted doing so. You all are right. There is no point. I want to set her straight on a few things but I actually do understand that it isn’t possible to set her straight. She doesn’t get it and she never will. How could I want to hang on to a friendship that never stood a chance? Just because we really did click when we first met? Is it because she rejected me? Partly but I should be able to see that she did me a favor.

Rocket Man dreamt about her husband last night while I was dreaming about her. We saw them yesterday as we were driving by. My reaction was one of wanting to forgive her. I am crazy and I should be put away. Reading your responses and parts of her email remind me of how much I loathe her. Why the hell do I need reminding?

I hate living with the grudge; I’m holding or have held so many that this one feels like more than I can bear. But THIS is no time to stop holding grudges for Christ’s sake.

There. I did it. I exhausted myself on the topic.

Alive and kicking!

2006-11-14T15:04:00.000-08:00

Jesus H. Christ what an emotional rollercoaster. Our baby looks great. I was TERRIFIED, afraid to look and see a crumpled-up baby, afraid to close my eyes and hear nobody saying anything only to open them to see “that look” on a doctor’s face.

I looked and saw a creature resembling a baby who was kicking its legs and wiggling around. It was really, genuinely cute! I started to cry and didn’t stop (okay I took short breaks) for a good hour. The RELIEF and joy are indescribable. I don’t think I even realized how worried and afraid I have been. I SO did not want to figure out how to tell my five-year-old son that our baby died for the third time (knowing myself that it would be OVER-no more pregnancies, no more torture.) I so did not want to go through another deadbabynightmare. I so did not want to get sloppy drunk at Thanksgiving because I am full of grief and bitterness. I did not want Christmas to be ruined again, by the taint of another pregnancy that ends disastrously. There are so many awful things that I did not want to be set in motion today and none of them happened. I walked back out of that place with tears of joy streaming down my snotty face.

It is such a gorgeous day here and I cried all the way from my appointment. I cried when we got home because I think maybe someday we can bring this baby home in a carseat instead of a little box of ashes. Maybe I won’t have to move my maternity clothes out of my drawers for the third time in a year. Maybe we will bring home a live baby to this house that we only moved into 18 months ago. Maybe I’ll get to feel this baby kick me. It seems possible now and I cried because that is scary and because it is possible.

I cried because my baby is ALIVE.

I can’t thank you enough for your messages, curse words, good vibes, prayers, worries, and love. At the risk of sounding corny, I feel all of you with me. I so appreciate it. Thanks for riding the rollercoaster with me. It’s a little less terrifying because I’m less alone this time. I'm so grateful for each of you.

P.S. The spotting has tapered off to a brown-tinged discharge. After I started cramping yesterday, Rocket Man came home and I was practically immobile for the rest of the day. By bedtime, the spotting had almost stopped. The doctor was reassured by it being brown and not red. No evidence of a blood clot like with my daughter. It's probably time to try not to lug my 25-lb maniac of a daughter around so much.
Maybe I should lay off the housework too. As if.

no way

2006-11-13T12:47:00.000-08:00

i'm spotting. it started this morning and is getting heavier, although it is still very light. but it's spotting for sure, brown. i have some cramping but i am choosing to believe that is just a coincidence.

i scheduled an ultrasound for tomorrow at 10:45.

no f*cking way.

Since I've gone this far...

2006-11-12T14:05:00.000-08:00

I should have taken your good advice and never contacted ESP. As it stands right now, things are much worse than before I emailed her. Here is my response to her response. She responded again with someseriously unbelievable bullshit. I haven't emailed her back and don't know if I will. At this point, I am attempting to comfort myself with imagining the things that I'd like to say back. So I'm back to where I started from. Harumph.

Ooh I am also so mad that I said some nice things to her and I extended an olive branch of sorts. ARGH.

So this is email #3, my response to her response to my initial email.

ESP,

One thing that seems very safe to say is that neither one of us got what we needed from each other. I hate that our paths put us at such disparate places in our lives. I so enjoyed your friendship and I felt like we really clicked and were going to be friends for forever. I never meant to judge you and I regret that we’ve both suffered so much and been unable to help each other. No need to worry about sounding bitchy or harsh; the only shot we have of really getting past this is for us both to be completely honest.

I had NO IDEA that you felt like I was cramming my opinion down your throat and that it was upsetting for you to hear that you might be tormented by terminating. (I don’t recall actually saying anything like that to you. I recall wanting to talk to you about it but never getting the chance.) It never occurred to me that you wouldn’t be tormented by guilt if you terminated. I hadn’t thought of that as a possibility. You certainly seemed conflicted about it and I thought you didn’t do micros*rt because it seemed like tampering with fate or something. I thought that you told me because you wanted feedback, guidance, approval, or something. I thought that suggesting an acknowledgment and apology might help you get through it but I see now that you didn’t feel like there was anything to apologize for.

In your email you sound like you were so shocked at my suggestion of apology and you felt that you had nothing to apologize for. But then you say that you don’t know if you would’ve done it. That gives me the idea that you weren’t certain that you’d do it and that you were actually conflicted. I experienced you as conflicted and as I said before I was trying to help you. I didn’t know what you needed. I thought I was being a BAD FRIEND by not being honest and I didn’t want you to turn to me later and ask why I didn’t say something. I’ve never been in a situation like that before and my impulse is always to help a friend work through shit by DIGGING INTO IT and helping them process and deal. I wasn’t bragging about my psychology degrees; I was trying to tell you that this is who I am and how I function. I process EVERYTHING to death and I have always been this way. We didn’t have a chance for you to see that about me I guess. I didn’t WANT you to be tortured. It hadn’t occurred to me that you might not be. I was trying to help. I was trying to help. I was trying to help. I get, NOW, that I didn’t help.

I’m not pro-life and I support women having a right to choose whether or to have a baby. My sister terminated her third pregnancy and told only me about it. She regrets terminating now but at the time it was the right thing for her. I supported her decision and did all that I could to help her think it through. That is my only experience with termination of a viable, normal pregnancy. During all of our many conversations about how much you wanted a girl, I never got the idea that you supported a woman’s right to terminate based on gender. I’m saying this because I just didn’t know where you were coming from when you told me and consequently I didn’t know how to help you. I could not have encouraged you to go for it without any concern for how you’d feel afterwards. I would have been lying my ass off and I wouldn’t have felt right about that. That didn’t even feel possible. If I said no judgment at first than I meant it but as time went by I felt differently and anything I said was always motivated by WANTING TO HELP YOU.

This next part may be a little harsh but it is how I feel. It doesn’t feel good for you tell me how so many others were happy for you despite their losses and infertility. Had any of them just lost their third baby when you were “in denial” of the existence of yours? Would they have understood that you were “all set” and didn’t need another boy even though you chose to get pregnant? Would they have understood when you acted like nothing had ever happened when your baby turned out to be a girl, when you called to tell me and never in any way acknowledged how that might be hard for me, on the same day that I found out that my THIRD dead baby was the boy that I wanted?

I do understand this; we do not get where each other is coming from at all. I don’t understand your need for a daughter because I haven’t lived your life. I know several people who didn’t get the girl or boy that they so desperately wanted. I get that it has been brutal for them to come to terms with. My problem is not as much that you were thinking of terminating as HOW YOU HANDLED IT, particularly when my concurrent huge fucking disaster occurred.

I don’t expect you to understand how it feels to lose a baby. I recall you saying how upset you were that _____ wasn’t conceived exactly when you wanted. Imagine giving up your “plan” THREE TIMES. I’ll have 2 three-year age gaps instead of two years, if I’m lucky. Two times I was at the end of the first trimester only to see a dead baby on an ultrasound and have my plan for a two-year age difference go to shit. One time I had to deliver my perfectly healthy baby at nearly 23 weeks, too early to live. I felt her kicking an hour before she was delivered, destined to die immediately. Call me Mrs. Doom and Gloom but I have been through shit that I will never ever forget and that I will think of in the middle of the night for the rest of my life. There were hip sockets in _____’s ashes. I came home from the hospital WITHOUT MY BABY because she was in the morgue. It’s called Post-Tra*matic Stress Dis*rder and it all came back to me when I woke up in a pool of blood shortly before delivering another dead baby into my hand. I had to fish the placenta out of the toilet from amongst the shit that I had taken when I delivered him ALONE. I did this and I’ll never ever forget it no matter how much I want to. Now I’m crying. The reason I’m saying this is to illustrate how COMPLETELY DEVASTATING AND HORRIFYING it was losing the baby in July and how hard it was to deal with your situation at the same time. With no acknowledgement from you.

Three times, I have had to watch friends and strangers continue on with their pregnancies while I grieved the loss of my babies. You are the only one that I have been unable to see. I’ve seen _____ many times. I started feeling very upset about you when you told me the news and acted as if nothing had ever happened as far as possible termination. “I don’t know why I’m not more excited.” I guess I was supposed to pretend with you but I couldn’t. I can’t imagine a person alive that could have pretended with you. Actually I did sort of pretend but after we hung up I started to be unable to see you.

I can see now that you expected complete support and that I was expected to bear the burden of being unable to say anything in response. Does that not seem like a lot to expect from somebody? Were all of your East Coast friends completely supportive? If so, did any of them have a third dead baby in the process? I hope it’s clear that this is so not about you being pregnant. Being pregnant again myself has not changed my feelings one bit. I am just sick of carrying this around with me.

Regarding how I treated ____ and the kids, I think it was nice of me to apologize for running away the one time that I saw them since the summer. How I treated them being “very painful and disappointing” was a little much for me to take. It’s been painful and disappointing on my end as well.

I wrote all of this because, in your response, I didn’t feel that you really acknowledged how the whole situation was for me. I imagine that it’s hard for you to think straight right now, having had such a shitty week but that’s not to say that I think acknowledgement is still forthcoming. I hope it is because it’s been really awful struggling with this. Sounds like it has sucked for you too (understatement). I look forward to getting this over with and not thinking about it anymore. I literally spent five hours working on this yesterday, fending off the kids and more hours on Saturday morning and I dreamt about you too.

I need you to hear that it was awful for me to lose my baby while you were considering terminating yours. And that it was extra awful to then have you keeping yours without acknowledging how that must have been for me. I know that I have been completely unavailable for you since then but you were also not in any way there for me after my horrible loss.

We have let each other down completely and I don’t know how we can repair the damage. I think apologies are needed. I am a little reluctant to apologize to you because it feels like you kind of threw the ____ apology back into my face. I will say this: I am sorry that you felt so unsupported by me when you told me about your situation. I am sorry that I couldn’t give you what you needed before or after you found out that the baby is a girl. I am sorry that you are going through this pregnancy without me.

I think that the next step, once you send back a blistering reply, if that’s what you need to do, is for us to actually speak in person. I think it would help for us to see each other’s faces and remember how much we used to like each other and how we liked each other immediately. I have really missed you. We really were just in a very difficult situation where it would’ve been nearly impossible to empathize with each other.

Christ I’m sorry this is so f*cking long. I really have thought about you probably every day since June and sometimes for hours on end. I’m ready to release it. I felt like I released it but then I got your reply and I was like, “Oh ouch” and I have been immersed in it since then. Send a reply if you want but I am also willing to talk and get this over with. I guess it’s time to forgive. Your move.

Whatthef*ck

My fucked up ticker

2006-11-11T20:22:00.000-08:00

The words on my ticker are black so they don't show up. Ticker fact*ry doesn't offer any options but I can't find a "walking on eggshells" until the end of the first trimester ticker anywhere else. Does anybody have any suggestions? Is there a way to change the blog template or the ticker html code so the letters will show up? Seems like a tall order but then again a man has walked on the moon.

This post will self-destruct in 24 hours

2006-11-09T12:44:00.000-08:00

I did it. I emailed Evil Shadow Pregnancy. I am sick of carrying this business around with me and I don't care anymore what happens from her end. There is nothing to lose here. I think I'll delete this post soon because of concerns regarding privacy violations. It's so LONG, I know but I could've said more that's for sure.

_____,

Time for me to get this off my chest. I have spent many, many hours on the situation between us, many of them in the middle of the night. I am prompted to contact you because I feel bad about giving you the silent treatment, fifth-grade-style. The last time I saw you, at ____'s house, my uncontrollable impulse was to get away as quickly as possible. I was able to be fake when I had seen you previously but now I just want to run. I am not proud of treating you and your family this way so the time has come for me to speak my peace. I would’ve done this sooner but I assumed that you would not want to hear what I have to say.

When you first told me about your pregnancy and your plans to possibly terminate, I felt for you and the difficult situation that you were in. That’s not to say that I wasn’t shocked since last I heard you had some ethical issues about doing micros*rt, but I felt for you because you were obviously really struggling. As time went by, I started to feel bad about not being more honest with you. I didn’t want to be the friend that didn’t speak up in case you were looking for approval or if you were later tortured by your decision. Having lost three babies, I know all too well that it doesn’t end with the D&C; that’s just the beginning of living the rest of one’s life with the memory of a dead baby and the godawful process of ending the pregnancy. I really wanted to talk to you about that and I spent a TREMENDOUS amount of time trying to think of what I would say and how I would say it. In response to my phone message saying that I really wanted a chance to talk to you, you made it clear that you didn’t want to talk about it and that you were happy in your “Zen-like state”of denial. This is where I started to have more trouble with the situation. The advice that I so desperately wanted to give you was this: If you are going to terminate, rather than denying the baby’s physical presence, I would recommend acknowledging his presence and apologizing for your inability to bring him into this world. I was afraid for you that if you managed to get through the D&E that you would then be tortured by your decision for the rest of your life. I thought there was a way to acknowledge and apologize that would make things easier for you. The acknowledgement would also come in handy should the baby turn out to be a girl. Then you wouldn’t have to live with the awkwardness and guilt of suddenly accepting a previously rejected baby. I wanted to help you. I have three graduate degrees in psychology; it isn’t in my nature to not try to help a friend work through some shit. I wanted to help.

That’s where I was at when we discovered our dead baby. I know you did not appreciate receiving my graphic email about the unimaginable hell that I had just been through. Part of the reason I sent it was because I would’ve told you anyway and the other part was because I think it was important for you to acknowledge that your baby existed and had a body and eyes and fingers and toes. That was my only opportunity to nudge you into an acknowledgement that I thought was important. Maybe you thought that it wasn’t my place to tell you what was important but did you really expect me to just say and do nothing about your dilemma? It was an awkward position for me to be in even before our baby died. And like I said I was trying to help. I wasn’t saying you shouldn’t do it. I was trying to help you do it in a way that you’d be able to live with. I don’t think it’s reasonable to tell somebody something like that and expect that they will just agree with you no matter what. That would be a bullshit relationship and I’ve never done well in those.

After my traumatic delivery of the baby and fully conscious D&C, I was a WRECK. I mean like couldn’t take care of my kids, staring at nothing for hours, post-traumatic stress flashbacks, insomnia, bitterness and rage, soul-searching, WHY, WHY, WHY and how-the-fuck-did-this-happen-to-me WRECK. This six months, to the DAY and HOUR, after the NIGHTMARE of losing _____? I was a very tormented, bitter and angry woman, wondering what I had done to deserve my three dead babies?

The day I found out that our baby was a boy was the day you called with your news. It hit me like a baseball bat in the face. It simply hadn’t occurred to me that you would get what you wanted and felt you were entitled to. The worst part was when you said, “I don’t know why I’m not more excited” to which I replied, “Well, the alternative was a little sobering.” Then I thought, “PLEASE, OH PLEASE DO NOT MAKE ME PRETEND THAT NOTHING HAS HAPPENED. I CAN’T DO IT.” I couldn’t deal with any more lack of acknowledgement of how hard it was for me to listen to your plans and now your revised plans when I had another dead baby ordeal to survive. I told you that my baby had turned out to be the boy that I had been hoping for. No acknowledgment of how much that sucked for me..

That was where you stopped being a friend and started being a person that I was TERRIFIED of seeing. I lost so much sleep over the situation. I wondered why you got what you wanted after what you were considering and I got another set of ashes to pick up from the funeral home? Like I said I was bitter and angry at the whole world; there was no way that you were going to be spared when you never even acknowledged the awfulness of our juxtaposed situations.

After that I became so afraid of seeing you. I was an extra big wreck whenever I ran into you, for DAYS afterwards. I never felt like I should try to talk to you because my efforts had previously failed and I got the distinct impression that you weren’t going to be reminded of what you had already probably buried. I faked it when I saw you and got away as quickly as possible. I have been tormented by this since June. I’ve spent 100 hours probably thinking about various aspects of this situation. I am releasing it today because I can’t drag it around with me anymore.

I resisted doing this because I thought at least things would be civil between us if I didn’t bring it up. But the last time I saw you I just couldn’t deal. You’ve become this big, scary person in my mind and I can’t even talk to you to make you human again, the friend that I used to have. I imagine that you’ll get very upset and mad about this and will resent that I had the nerve to bring it up. Maybe I am underestimating you.

I am sorry again for ignoring you and ___ and the kids. I feel like a jerk about it. I think I’ve said most of what I needed to say. I considered trying to talk to you in person and I am open to talking if you want to. Email seems safer for now.

_____

Whew!

2006-11-07T18:49:00.000-08:00

The doctor was completely unimpressed with my ovarian growth. She said that it is tiny and while it may grow up to be a dermoid cyst, for now it is nothing to worry about. Whew! I guess I'd rather have my doctors worrying unnecessarily than not worrying when they should be.

The baby looks fine. He/she was moving around, little feet kicking. It is starting to seem possible that we could have this baby.

Thanks so much for your comments. I really needed them today. I like the idea, that pronoia mentioned, of leaving a mark, a calling card of sorts, to let a blogger know that I've come by but don't have anything good to say. I visit lots of blogs that I don't comment on. Maybe I'll try to comment more often or at least leave a calling card. Thanks again for your support. I hope to return the favors.

Trying to kill time here people

2006-11-07T11:19:00.000-08:00

I'm killing time here, checking my blog to see if anybody is out there. I need to go do something so I can keep busy until it is time to leave for my ultrasound at 1. Checking my blog isn't helping. I can't help but notice that LOTS of people have stopped by but very few comments.

Call me a "comment whore" but I can't help but wonder?

What happens when you people read this shit?

My best guess is that it is too hard to think of something good to say. That happens to me when I read other people's blogs. But then I think, "well they won't know that I've come if I don't say something."

Just say something. You don't have to try to comfort me. NOTHING will actually comfort me at this point. But knowing that you are there and with me will help. What's the point of being here if I don't know that you've been here?

Testing day for dosmamas

2006-11-07T07:22:00.000-08:00

I don't know why I didn't include this in today's big day events. Today is testing day for dosmamas; our collective second attempt to get S pregnant. I woke up speculating like crazy about various scenarios, forgetting completely that I went to bed with fears of ovar*an cancer.

We are waiting on the call.

Tomorrow: Election day and tooth in ovary day

2006-11-06T15:00:00.000-08:00

I can’t wait to get tomorrow over with. I hope the Democrats can pull one of out of their behinds, but my confidence is not inspired by their general ineptness.

I have an ultrasound at 1:00 with a doctor who can hopefully identify what is growing on my left ovary. On Halloween, just after hearing that it could be a tooth, I thought the whole thing was pretty ridiculous. Then I did some research and got a little freaked out.

Apparently the possible tooth could also be a ball of hair, a gland, an EYEBALL, OR A LIMB BUD. A tooth? Fine. Creepy but fine. But an eyeball or a LIMB BUD? That is not okay with me. I’ve had one too many “procedures” to be up for having a small arm removed from my ovary. Dermo*d cysts, as they are called, can grow up to 17 inches and 40 lbs!!!!!! I really wish I hadn't read that. My "growth" seems, to me, to be growing rather quickly because it wasn’t observed during my last pregnancy that ended on June 30th.

Apparently, a dermo*d cyst tends to be full of greasy fluid and needs to be carefully removed lest it spill its nasty contents onto neighboring organs causing adhesions and pain. Greasy fluid? I already feel vomitous (new word) day and night; that really grossed me out.

Dermo*d cysts can choke off the blood supply to the ovary causing infertility and a lot of pain. I’m getting a little ahead of myself here. I’m just freaked out.

Someday soon I’ll take on the task of posting about my long and sordid obstetrical and gynecological history (major surgery to remove a large uterine fibr*id, an unconscious D&C, two biopsies to remove high-grade funkiness on my cervix, surgery to stitch my cervix closed, four days of hellish invasiveness with LC including surgery to take out the stitch, a fully conscious D&C from hell . Suffice it to say this for now: I get extremely skittish about mere Pap smears and even a trip to the dentist can bring on the cold sweats when I see that instrument tray.

I’m hoping to see a live baby tomorrow and a really boring calcified cyst that is left over from a long ago ovulation. If we see a live baby tomorrow then we have passed deadbabymilestone #1, my first deadbaby having died at 7 ½ weeks.

In the meantime, I saw a friend yesterday who took a quick look at me and said, “Ohhh, look at you.” 8 weeks and showing, again.

I went to a maternity store yesterday but couldn’t bring myself to buy anything. The woman did tell me that if I lose the baby I can return anything, anytime, even if I’ve worn it. That is a radical departure from their normal return policy. Not that she was making an exception for me. That is just their unstated policy. How humane. Really.

Less than 24 hours until my ultrasound.

I’m thinking of putting up a ticker counting down until the end of the first trimester. That’s a ticker that I can feel good about.

Today, my faith in humanity is partially restored

2006-11-03T14:41:00.000-08:00

My cousin sent this email back to me. I was relieved and awed by her response.

Dear ____,

Nothing you could do could ever make me angry with you. It was I who was insensitive. I am very sorry that I upset you. I would never deliberately do that to you or anyone else in any situation. I wrote it that way because that was the way it was presented to me. Your mother had called and used that terminolgy leading me to believe that you were just 3-4 months along. You know how she can get, she was rambling at the time so please don't be angry with her either.

If you are ever angry with me don't hesitate to tell me. Just pick up the phone I am very strong and can take it, believe me I've had my share of things happen over the years. If you ever need a sounding block I am always here. Somehow I have become that with my friends and family and I don't mind.

Take care, my love to all and again I am sorry that I upset you. Many things have happened here recently and I might not have been my best when I was writting. I know that is no excuse and it is not meant to be.

Love,

_____

I also got an email back from the woman who didn't call after I lost LC because it would've been "awkward." She was very nice and apologetic. She explained what happened on her end. I think we may have a shot at a friendship.

It was a good day for honesty.

Today I'm tired of the bullshit

2006-11-02T16:35:00.000-08:00

I finally did it. I sent a response to my awful cousin who emailed to me “I was very sorry to hear about the latest miss.” I had not responded to her email because I couldn’t figure out what to say. Also I am a big wimp and I didn’t want to upset her. I find that is a pattern in my life in general and particularly on the topic of deadbabyinsensitivity. I hold grudges and think of things to say that never get said. Today I was ready for some action. The family fallout may be spectacular but I don’t care.

I also emailed a friend who never called me back when my husband told her what happened with LC. I saw her recently because her second daughter started at my son’s preschool in September. She said she didn’t call because she was pregnant and it would’ve been “AWKWARD” to talk to me.

Awkward.

Was it not awkward to see me again while she was holding her baby who was born when LC was due? She could’ve emailed for Christsake. Would that have been so awkward? Holy friendship-not-worth-saving.

Today I was partly inspired by all of us who’ve suffered such indignities after losing our babies. What the hell is wrong with these people and why are we protecting them at our own expense?

Here’s the real email that I just sent.

Hi ___,
Sorry it's taken me so long to respond to your condolence. It was kind of you to think of me especially at such a busy time. I hope that the planning for ____'s wedding is going well.

I have been thinking a lot about how to respond to your email. Like I said, it was really nice of you to say anything at all and I do appreciate it. It's just that hearing the loss of my precious babies described as "the latest miss" kind of threw me. My mom used that term once and I just tried to pretend to myself that I didn't hear her right. I should have been more upfront with her.

I will feel bad about giving you a hard time about it, it's just that it's hard to hear my recent loss described in such a way. Charlotte's death at 22 weeks was a premature birth, not a miscarriage. We dressed her and took pictures and held her for many hours. I know that there is no way for you to know that and again I am sorry if my email makes you mad. I've kept silent about so many things that have been said to me or not said that it is eating away at me.

My "latest miss" was a little boy and I delivered him into the palm of my hand. His ashes are in the cabinet next to his big sister's. "Miss" just sounds so awful. Oops I had another dead baby. Oops my heart is broken again, as I live through another nightmare and pick up another tiny box of ashes from the funeral home. If "miss" is just an abbreviation, then it's the worst one I've ever heard. On behalf of women everywhere who've withstood such awful losses, I hope that you'll retire that term.

I have been reluctant since September to send this email because I am afraid it'll make you mad. That's why I haven't responded. Once you'll read this, you may wish that I hadn't. Like I said, I really appreciate that you emailed at all and I appreciated the card that you sent after LC died. I know you mean well. I just hope that nobody else ever hears that term again.

______

Good news, weird news

2006-10-31T19:51:00.000-08:00

The good news is that the baby is alive and looks fine. Whew.

Now for the weird news. You may recall that last ultrasound the doc told me to have them recheck my left ovary because it looked weird. When I got in there today, the tech asked if I had gone to the hospital.

“Um, for what?”

“To have that ovary checked out.”

I hadn’t been to the hospital. So she starts with the abdominal ultrasound and starts checking my ovaries. She briefly passed by what looked like an empty placenta. I started to panic a little and asked if she could check to see if the baby is alive. I said, “Because if the baby isn’t alive, I won’t be needing those ovaries anymore.” She says in a cheery voice, “Oh were you thinking of having them taken out?” This from the same woman who asked as I came in if this was my first baby. Novices.

So she checked the baby and then went back to her search for my ovaries. Then we moved to the wand that gets inserted. What is that thing called? She wielded that wand like a joystick. Left, right, up, down. Ouch. I digress. On to the weird part.

When she found my left ovary, it had a very obvious white spot on it. The doc later said it would need to be checked out by a different doc who looks at ovaries all the time. The concern being ovarian cancer. Not that it is at all likely to be ovarian cancer but that’s they’d be worried about. Okayyyy.

Later after the doc talked to fancy doc, my doctor, he comes in and says, “It could be a tooth.” Excuse me?

Apparently, as a mere embryo, part of my genetic material may have gotten stuck in my ovary, and 36 years later, my ovary may have grown itself a tooth. No f*cking way.

This is the best possible outcome that would be fitting for Halloween. The baby is alive but my ovary has grown a tooth. Charlotte asked if that is what a molar pregnancy is. Isn’t that funny?

At one point, after I reported, to fancy doc’s assistant, matter-of-factly, “it could be a tooth,” I started laughing and almost couldn’t stop. Once again, an interesting ultrasound. So I’ll go to the hospital before too long and have my left ovary checked out. If it turns out to be a tooth, will I have to see my dentist about it?

It’s not a tumah. But it could be a tooth.

Smiling here in Crazytown.

Hopefully I won’t have bad dreams about the tooth.

My baby is alive. :)

Here I go

2006-10-31T12:11:00.000-08:00

I am leaving for my ultrasound right now. My palms are sweaty already. Ugh.

Paging Dr. Freud

2006-10-31T10:31:00.000-08:00

I had the whale dream again. I have recurring whale dreams and recurring I’m back in college and nothing makes any sense dreams. Last night I had them mixed together. I was back in college and a friend noticed that I was pregnant. Then I’m heading south on the Garden St*te P*rkway but the road is blocked by logs. I look over to the ocean and see what turns out to be a huge all-black whale leaping out of the water. It leaps around and nearly beaches itself but returns safely to the water. At this point in the dream, I’ve started to consider having an abortion because I’m in college and am not set up at all for a baby. I decide to head back to school to consider my options. My son appears and cries, “But I want a little brother.” I was considering my options when I woke up.

Whatthef*ck? Truth be told, I have been feeling overwhelmed lately. First trimesters are exhausting and hormonal and nauseating to the point where nothing makes any sense anymore. First trimesters while caring full-time for two little maniacs are extra-exhausting and hormonal and nauseating. And this is my THIRD TIME doing a first trimester while caring full-time for two little maniacs. It’s enough to make a girl question her sanity. As if.

Sometimes I wonder what the hell we are doing? Why am I putting myself and my family through this again? What if the baby turns out to have some major neurological issue that can’t be diagnosed in utero? What if a third child puts us over the edge as a family or couple or as individuals? What if I wasn’t supposed to do this?

So last night’s dream is interesting to me in the context of my present state of feeling overwhelmed. What does it mean? I have no f*cking clue. If anybody wants to take a shot at it, I suggest the format, “If it were my dream….” If nobody would touch it with a ten-foot pole, I understand. I’m not going there. It is merely grist for the mill.

Now I’m off to trim and shower so I’ll have “bush confidence” for the exam that will follow the ultrasound, if the baby is alive. I’ve started watching “Th* L Word” because I need a new series in my life. I like the new things that I’ve learned such as “bush confidence,” but I have to say that I am disappointed in the first few episodes.

My first clue that the show is unrealistic (I hate unrealistic masquerading as realistic): a lesbian couple find out that their donated sperm has no motility, after 6 months of insemination (wouldn’t it have been tested earlier, but that’s not the really puzzling part), so they decide to find somebody else ASAP because they have 2-3 days to get that egg fertilized. So not only does the egg live for 2-3 DAYS on this show but the couple is endeavoring to find a new donor and inseminate within 48 hours? Hellooooo? Who is writing this stuff? A bunch of dudes?

And then JB sends a new donor to meet her partner and go to the cryobank and he shows up and JB has not mentioned to her that he is African-American? Helloooo? Wouldn’t that have been discussed? Wouldn’t they have discussed EVERYTHING that is known about possible donor and speculated about everything that is unknown that they can think of to speculate about?

Then they almost spontaneously have an insemination/threesome with a guy they just met? No testing for STDs? Okay maybe I should lighten up but why not make the show realistic? Harrumph.

I can’t believe that I am doing this again

2006-10-30T14:08:00.000-08:00

I said I would never do this again. Actually I think I said, “NO F*CKING WAY AM I EVER GOING TO GET PREGNANT AGAIN. I WILL NEVER PUT MYSELF IN A POSITION TO SEE A DEAD BABY ON AN ULTRASOUND AGAIN. NEVERRRRRRRRRRRRR!! WHY THE F*CKING HELL WOULD I DO THIS AGAIN??? WHY WOULD I PUT MYSELF THROUGH THIS SHIT???

Tomorrow I have an ultrasound. 1 p.m.

I’m doing it again. On Halloween, no less. Why, oh why, did I schedule it for Halloween? Is it not enough that deadbabydisasters have already ruined Christmas, Fourth of July/my wedding anniversary, and my son’s birthday? Oh and I forgot New Year’s Eve. This past year I spent NYE in the babyless dungeon of the hospital, reeling from the shock of the last four days, not really believing that I came in with a fever and then my perfectly healthy baby ended up in the morgue. I was at home eating some f*cking goulash and then I got cold. I digress.

I have learned the hard way to NEVER EVER schedule an ultrasound on a Friday. Thursday may not even be safe. But have I not learned to avoid holidays? What if I have to take my kids trick-or-treating with a dead baby in me. It’s not like they won’t notice if I stay home (with my bong). My son is five for Christsake. Halloween is like Christmas for him but with CANDY and a Batman costume.

Perhaps I am being a bit negative here. I said I wouldn’t do that. I am doing it. Calgon take me away.

I wish they could do the ultrasound without me. If I have to live through another ultrasound moment where nobody says anything and I open my eyes to see that look on people’s faces… I don’t know what I’ll do. I will go on record now saying that if this pregnancy ends badly I am done, done, done. More done, done, done than last time. Really done.

Tomorrow. 1 p.m.

By the way, is good news boring? Am I only interesting when I rant and rave? I am a little disappointed that my good news/blood test results went largely unnoticed in the blogosphere. (Maybe I am not commenting on other people's blogs enough?) Like it or not, I am counting on you good people to be my virtual handholders during this process. Even if it goes well.

Baby named. Done. Check.

2006-10-27T20:28:00.000-07:00

Sprout.

My dear, dear, dear friend from college, who I love and relate to better than most anybody I've ever met, suggested it. It made me cry and actually feel something for like an entire minute!

Sprout. It really embodies the hope I have that the little creature will grow and grow until becomes a full-blown baby that lives!

One of my favorite memories of my dear friend: We're in college, maybe juniors or seniors, at one of our sorority rush functions (Don't rush to judgement-I SUCKED at being a member of this organization). We are supposed to be talking to girls who are rushing instead of each other. This hideously perky sister comes up and suggests that we go talk to some girls. Dear friend looks her straight in the eye and says, "You want a slap?"

I died. How can you not love her? I do, with all my heart. She's always been braver than me. I think such things. She says them. I wish I could be more like her, but I am really chickenshit on the inside. I am too afraid that somebody will get mad at me or snap at me or not like me, even if I don't like them anyway. Then later I am wishing that I'd had the balls to speak up about something. And it eats away at me.

I am a closet wimp.

Hungry but nothing sounds good except...

2006-10-27T20:15:00.000-07:00

I would kill a grown man with my bare hands right now for a bag of sun chips, even the cheddar flavored ones.

That's it.

This just in ...

2006-10-26T16:58:00.000-07:00

Fancy doc's assistant just called with yesterday's blood test results. Since last Tuesday, my HCG went from 38,633 to 150,000. I can't complain about that.

My progesterone went from 19.1 to 18.7. So it's still going down but not really very much. Fancy doc called it stable and advised not worrying. That drop isn't nearly as precipitous as the previous drop from 27 to 19.1 in two weeks.

So I guess we'll call that good news?! At least it isn't clearly bad news. I got that goin' for me, which is nice.

Tuesday's ultrasound is the next hurdle. I should know better than to schedule an ultrasound for a holiday. Halloween better not be ruined, for Christ's sake.

Christmas, Fourth of July/my wedding anniversary and my son's birthday have already ready been seriously tainted by dead babies. Let's hope for a good outcome so I can take my kids trick-or-treating without a dead baby in me.

The little creature needs a name

2006-10-26T11:25:00.000-07:00

I need to name this… pregnancy? No, I need to name this……baby. That was hard to say. It’s hard to call it a baby. It’s not really a baby. Well yes it is. F*ck that, it’s a baby. Obviously I’m a little conflicted here.

I’m afraid to call it a baby. Blah, blah, blah. I’m afraid to feel really stupid if I have to look back at this after another disaster. Blah, blah. I’m afraid to connect.

I would NEVER assume that we are having a baby. I can’t say that we are having a baby. Maybe expecting is a really good word. Actually…not. Because I am not expecting that I’ll have a baby on June 14th. I’m not planning on it. Am I hoping to have a baby in June? Yes. But that sounds like I’m not even pregnant. Argh.

I need to name the baby. I need to name it so if it turns up dead on an ultrasound, I can refer to it later as something besides Disaster #4 or Our Most Recent Disaster which is not to be confused with our current Most Recent Disaster. Help me name the baby.

I really like “The Twinkle” but that already belongs to The Twinkle and his parents. But I like that the name reflects the state of being of a tiny, tiny embryo. Grain o’ Rice is not quite as catchy. Suggestions?

Still waiting for yesterday’s HCG and progesterone results. I had a little bit of spotting yesterday morning. Ah the spotting. It’s normal until it isn’t.

It was very light. It was like discharge goo with a pink tinge. Nothing since then. Spotting and I have a long and complex history. More on that later.

Who was that masked... blogger?!

2006-10-24T19:22:00.000-07:00

I found a blog the other day that I cannot find again. I don't know how I got there and all blog searches have been fruitless. Maybe somebody can identify it for me.

The blogger is a woman who has had five pregnancies and has two living children. I believe that her last pregnancy had a happy ending. She recently posted about finding out at an ultrasound that her baby had a big empty space where her brain should've been.

I purposely didn't bookmark because at the time I read it, I though, "Sweet Jesus, this is not what I need to be reading about; ways for a baby to die tragically that I haven't heard of yet." But I want to read more about the blogger especially since she has had many pregnancies like me. She also had a list of circumcision links and I'd liek to check those out as well.

Does anybody know the name of this blog?

By the way, I decided to get my progesterone tested again.

The dice have been thrown

2006-10-24T12:42:00.000-07:00

I’m kind of a bad blogger. I have a hard time getting motivated to post unless I have something deeply disturbing to write about. Or at least a little disturbing. There’s not much happening here. The days are creeping by and I’m still only 6 ½ weeks along. It feels like an eon… at least. Holy.

I decided to shake off the progesterone supplements on the advice of the RE. I kind of feel like, if this kid’s gonna get through then it’s gonna get through. I don’t feel like there’s much that I can do about it. I failed to mention that I took Prometrium during my second pregnancy and that baby died anyway. It didn’t have the decency to inform me before three weeks of deadness but oh well. Bygones.

So that experience did not inspire any confidence in progesterone supplementation. Thank you for your advice, Bri especially. We’re going to wing it. I am not going to have my progesterone tested again. Fancy doc’s assistant said they never test for that anyway because it isn’t predictive of outcome. File my scare under Classic Case of Too Much Information. Hopefully, I won’t be choking on those words next week during my 7 ½ week ultrasound.

The good news is that my three deadbabydisasters have helped me to any release any perception of control over this process. Oh and the doctor that did last week’s ultrasound, besides noting a fibroid and a funky looking left ovary that I should remind them to recheck next week, also said, not in so many words, that she thinks Rocket Man and I have a translocation in our chromosomes and we really should have that business mapped out.

She said that our possible translocation is likely why we’ve had two early miscarriages. Neither of those fetuses was sent for chromosomal testing or whatever it’s called. What is it called?. The first was just vacuumed out unceremoniously without the suggestion of testing. Being a deadbabyvirgin, I didn’t know to ask for it. The second was too dead by the time I had to wait five days for the worst D&C ever. There is no point in mapping our chromosomes now because the dice have already been thrown. So we wait.

More good news is that I started to feel sick a few days ago. Just a little sick but enough to remind that there is a better than average chance that my baby isn’t dead yet. I think it’s better than average. If it isn’t, then by all means don’t tell me.

Feeling sick also indicates a good chance of the baby being a girl. With my two boy pregnancies, I have had little or no nausea except when I’m really hungry or when I’m really hungry and I smell something funky. With the two girl pregnancies I have felt nausea that sometimes lasts all day and requires frequent consumption of Sto*ffer’s Fre*ch Bread Pizzas.

Through all of my pregnancies I have not vomited once. Six pregnancies and nary a dry heave. I am a lucky girl, save the three dead babies.

As far as the sickness being suggestive of a baby girl, at the merest notion of having another female child that could possibly be as big of a holy terror as my two-year-old daughter… at the very suggestion of that notion I will begin to quake in my boots at this very moment.

With many ounces of my being, I am truly and deeply afraid of having another girl. I was afraid of this before I had my daughter, the creature with possibly more attitude per pound than any other on the planet.

More on that later. Suffice it to say that my mother and I do not, nor have we ever, gotten along so well.

Yikes.

Game plan

2006-10-19T20:05:00.000-07:00

The game plan is... nothing. Fancy doc talked to an RE who called me this afternoon. RE said my numbers look good to him and he sees no cause for concern. The dropping progesterone is still in the normal range so that matters more than the drop, to him at least. He said the dip might be attributable to the placenta taking over estrogen production from the ovaries between 6 and 10 weeks. I am only 6 weeks today so that doesn't make a ton of sense to me but I'm not a doctor nor did I stay at a Holid*y Inn Express last night. I wish I had asked point blank, "Is it normal for progesterone to fluctuate?" I think he was essentially saying yes, that a dip could be normal.

RE also said there is no point in taking suppositories because low progesterone doesn't cause pregnancies to fail. It may be a symptom of a failing pregnancy but it's not the cause. He recommends I sit tight. He does not advise re-checking my progesterone level. I have an ultrasound scheduled for next Thursday. I feel okay about this for the most part.

This early pregnancy drama really reminds of my pregnancy with my daughter. She was always alive at every panicked ultrasound, through all the 10 weeks of bleeding. I am reluctant to put this in print but I have a good feeling at this point. I feel like this one's gonna get through. Funny that I would be reluctant to put that in print after all the graphic, horrifying shit I've put into print. As many of you well know, hope is utterly terrifying. But I can't protect myself by bracing for the impact of disaster. I tried that last time. It didn't work. I was SHATTERED.

For now, I feel good. Thank you for your support. It's heartwarming.

Good news, bad news

2006-10-19T09:38:00.000-07:00

Well the good news, after yesterday’s adventure, is that when I went for an ultrasound… there was good news. No dead baby. The technician announced after an interminable delay, “there’s cardiac activity.” 3 beautiful words. I am only a mere 5 weeks, 6 days pregnant so the tiny fetus is barely as big as a grain of rice. But it has cardiac activity.

When I heard that little heartbeaty type noise, I felt a little teary. I started to feel attached to the little creature. I started to really encourage it to fight. I agreed to fight also. I pleaded a little. I agreed to start loving it if it would just promise to try not to die.

Please don’t die little tiny baby. We've been waiting a long time for you. You have a big sister that spots babies going by in cars and gleefully exclaims, “I saw baby. I saw baby go by!!” Your big brother has endured the loss of three dead siblings and this kid doesn’t miss a thing; he may have suffered as much as I did, it just wasn’t as obvious. When I told him that I was pregnant last time, he said, “I hope our baby doesn’t die.” Then he said, “I’m going to take care of this baby all by myself.”

I have another ultrasound in a week. Unfortunately, I know all too well that after seeing a heartbeat, the chance of miscarriage does not go down to 3%. In dead baby disaster #1, I saw a heartbeat at 7 weeks and then a dead baby at my 10½ week ultrasound. The baby had died shortly after I saw its heartbeat. My uterus didn’t get the memo for three weeks. Hate it.

In dead baby disaster #3, we saw a heartbeat at around 7 weeks again only to find another crumpled up, motionless baby at the 11 week ultrasound. So needless to say, seeing a heartbeat is merely hurdle number 2 with myriad others lined up in a neat row stretching as far as the eye can see.

But it’s a beginning.

Every new beginning is some other beginning’s end. I always liked the line from a song which I can’t remember the name of.

Yesterday during the ultrasound I had a feeling reminiscent of my pregnancy with my daughter; every time I went in for an ultrasound I thought for sure she’d be dead but she was always there, unfazed by the blood clot that was expected to end the pregnancy. Knowing her now, it would’ve taken a nuclear holocaust to bring her down. She is a warrior. I am in awe of her.

Now to the bad news. At least I think it’s bad news but is still haven’t heard from my fancy high-risk pregnancy doctor. Fancy doctor’s partner saw me yesterday and said she and fancy doc and the other partners don’t know much about progesterone in early pregnancy. She said suppositories are worthless and can even be harmful. She said that the progesterone test wasn’t meant to be interpreted in such a way. She said that I could contact an RE on my own. That seems like it could take a long time.

Last night I left message for fancy doc (FD) saying that I would like him to contact his RE colleague and find out whatthef*ck basically. I said that I feel a sense of urgency and that I would like to do whatever is possible to save the pregnancy if in fact it is going south. So now I wait.

Anybody with knowledge of progesterone in early pregnancy, please share your experience.

Before I went to the ultrasound I took off the cute new maternity top that I bought last week. It’s comfortable and nice and roomy so I wear it even though it’s too early for it. I took it off so I wouldn’t feel extra-f*cking-stupid if my baby was dead.

Yes I am wearing maternity clothes at 5 weeks, 6 days. When you’ve been pregnant six times, three in the last year, things happen quickly. And I’ve had multiple c-sections so my excuse for stomach muscles give out as soon as the two pink lines show up.

The belly makes it extra hard to handle the telling people/not telling people issue. (Last time, people were flat-out congratulating me at 10 weeks.) Taking the maternity clothes out for the third time in a year, that’s just … well it defies description. Flashbacks are involved. And trepidation. And big huge sighs.

Maybe I should consider praying.

P.S. As I was leaving the ultrasound, fancy doc's partner said, "I don't want you to worry about this but when you come back next week have the technician check your left ovary. It looks irregular but it could have been a shadow." Comical, really.

Impending Disaster?

2006-10-18T14:30:00.000-07:00

My progesterone is going down and nobody is available at my doctor's office to tell me how bad that is. Perhaps one of you knows about this.

My prog. went from 27 two weeks ago to 19.1 yesterday. This does not sound good to me. My HCG was 490 two weeks ago and is 38,633 yesterday.

What the f*ck?

Petrified... that's the word I've been looking for

2006-10-12T21:17:00.000-07:00

Tonight the right word finally came to me. Don't know what the hell took so long. I'd been thinking terrified was the word but it’s not quite right. Petrified really brings across the frozen, immobile, stuckness type of feeling.

I thought I’d be all brave and optimistic and refusing to be robbed of what will be hopefully my last pregnancy, for the third time. I was sadly mistaken.

I feel like I’m walking a tightrope and the safety net is so far down that I can’t even see it. The fall is the worst part. It starts with the part where you realize this is really f*cking happening and it’s not a hideous nightmare. It actually is a hideous nightmare but it’s real and it’s your life.

I don’t know what will happen to me if I have to see another dead baby. Crumpled up on an ultrasound? Tiny and brown and dead in my arms? Alien-looking in the palm of my mind? So many ways to experience the dead baby. Will I have to do it again? What will be left of me?

I haven’t been posting because I was waiting to work up a good angst-ridden diatribe. I haven’t quite achieved a diatribe here but I felt a responsibility to say something. If I’m not feeling utterly tormented then I have a hard time being motivated to post. Doesn’t seem like it would make for a very good read.

Anyway, my two blood tests last week were good; both HCG and progesterone doing what they were supposed to. I felt relatively okay for a few days afterwards, mostly just numb and this-doesn’t feel-real type of thing. Nice that that’s “relatively okay.”

The only things I know to be true are that I got pregnant and as of last week on Thursday my blood work looked good. But... the baby could be dead for a week now already.

My positive-attitude friend would be wigging if she heard this but sadly I know that it’s true. I had a dead baby in me for three weeks and I had no clue it was dead until I started spotting, three weeks after it died. My dead baby virginity was lost.

Once you know that your baby could’ve died three weeks ago and you won’t even know, it’s a little hard to get to sleep at night. I feel bad if three-week-old-dead-baby virgins are reading this. Please don’t read this. Please don’t know these things if you don’t have to. Why am I spreading this information around?

Actually I think I stopped posting last week after watching a godawful sad video tribute to a baby who died from GI problems at about 5 weeks. I knew I shouldn’t watch it but I couldn’t stop. As if I need other potential problems to catastrophize about? As if any of us do?

I’ve got to get to sleep. Hopefully the melatonin will work. Reading myself to sleep at 11 and waking up at 4:30 unable to get back to sleep is brutal.

I’m coming undone.

Sweet dreams.