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.