Ready for some more of my dad's wisdom?
When I was younger and complaining about waiting too long for something or that a great vacation was too short, my dad would always say, "You know M, time is a variable." And of course I'd roll my eyes--because duh--time itself does not vary. There's only 24 hours in a given day. It's science, dad. Look it up.
But guess what? I walked into work the other day and a calendar caught my eye, revealing to me that it's almost the end of September. Really? Has it been four weeks since all of this madness started and not 2? Has it been 3 1/2 weeks since I saw my baby's face for the first and last time?
Time is a variable. And it can fast forward and rewind in the blink of the eye.
Labor and delivery seems so long ago, but yet I can close my eyes and I'm right back in the specialist's office 4 weeks ago, sitting across her huge desk with a box of cheap kleenex on it, wearing her white coat explaining to us that the baby had no kidneys or bladder, that there was absolutely no chance that our baby could survive and that now we had to make our decision on how to proceed.
Were we in her office for 5 minutes? 3? 10? I have no idea. Time and space stood still. How many times did she repeat herself? How long did it take for me to speak? It was like there was a pressure in the air that paused everything while the weight of this crushed us. But the meaning of what she was saying was still there. It was clear--this was it.
She explained our options and what would happen with each one and then she sat there looking at us with great concern and sympathy. The other doctor stood leaning on a hutch, saying that we'd talk the next day about what we'd decided. But then there was silence. Were they waiting for more questions? More tears? For us to ask for a minute alone (even though it was her office?) I had no idea what to do, so I just thanked them, stood up, and left.
We walked out of the office together, rounded a corner and collapsed into each other's arms, sobbing uncontrollably. We did this same routine most of the way to the car--arms around each other, almost dragging one another forward to the parking deck.
We tried to collect our selves, but as he started to back the car out of the parking space, I lost it again, sobbing so hard that I started gagging and dry heaving. I opened the door to try to vomit, but nothing came. I pulled myself back together with a clear mission in mind: Just get home.
It's all too vivid and when I think about all that's happened, that's the moment that I go back to--where time and space ceased to exist and where the nightmare began.
What I'd give to rewind to that day and have a different outcome or to wake up one morning and be right back where we left off.
Showing posts with label baby. Show all posts
Showing posts with label baby. Show all posts
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Monday, September 21, 2009
Vanity
I still look like I looked while pregnant. My belly hadn't popped (even at 21 weeks) but I definintely looked like I'd gained weight. My pregnancy acne has lessened, but hasn't gone away completely.
I gained 10 lbs while pregnant and while I lost 5 of that so far, I have another 10 or so that I gained while TTC from the herbs that I was taking. So I'm stuck between maternity clothes that need to be lasso'd onto me and prepregnancy clothes that look like I'm squishing myself into a tube of toothpaste. I have bulges in places I've never had bulges before. I have a fear that as my hormones continue to go back to normal, I'm going to continue to lose breast volume and they'll sag.
I know everyone says to not let these things bother you, that it's just what happens when you get pregnant... but what about when you're not pregnant anymore and you have nothing to show for it?
I don't feel attractive and I'm daunted by the task of losing the weight. I'm normally a very healthy eater (even while pregnant), but since this all happened, it's been restaurants, take-out, and heat n' eats--none of which is very good for me. And the cycle continues--the food makes me feel lazy, so I'm too lazy to get back on track.
What to do, what to do...
I gained 10 lbs while pregnant and while I lost 5 of that so far, I have another 10 or so that I gained while TTC from the herbs that I was taking. So I'm stuck between maternity clothes that need to be lasso'd onto me and prepregnancy clothes that look like I'm squishing myself into a tube of toothpaste. I have bulges in places I've never had bulges before. I have a fear that as my hormones continue to go back to normal, I'm going to continue to lose breast volume and they'll sag.
I know everyone says to not let these things bother you, that it's just what happens when you get pregnant... but what about when you're not pregnant anymore and you have nothing to show for it?
I don't feel attractive and I'm daunted by the task of losing the weight. I'm normally a very healthy eater (even while pregnant), but since this all happened, it's been restaurants, take-out, and heat n' eats--none of which is very good for me. And the cycle continues--the food makes me feel lazy, so I'm too lazy to get back on track.
What to do, what to do...
Friday, September 18, 2009
Controversial consent
The day before I went in to be induced, I had to go to my doctor's office to sign a consent form for the procedure. Luckily, the person on the phone had already kindly warned me what the form would say--that I was consenting to an "elective abortion," even though she understood that this was not my true choice.
Still--really?!
I understood why I needed to sign a release form that stated that I was willingly having my baby removed from me, but I wish they would have had a "no way out!" stamp they could have put on the top or some kind of "fatal condition" checkbox marked. Because lord knows I really need to feel judged at this moment and to have "elective abortion" listed in my medical records.
So I feel this should be addressed. While I don't really feel the need to defend what we chose to do, I will elect to explain.
Some people find out their children have fatal conditions and choose to carry them to term (or until nature takes its course), giving them every second of a good life that they can give them. I'm glad that they have the right and ability to choose what was best for them--legally, mentally, physically, and (if applicable) religiously. Taking a child to term with a fatal condition is an amazing, selfless act and my heart goes out to everyone put in this situation, no matter what they decide.
When we found out what had happened and understood the particular details of Potters sequence, it was clear that letting her go immediately was the route for us to give our baby the best life that she could have had. She had already swallowed all of my amniotic fluid and without any renal system, she couldn't pee it out to make her comfortable, expand my uterus, and recycle the fluid to develop her lungs.
So no fluid, no moving, no comfort, slowly deforming in a uterus that won't expand... I couldn't do that to her. I couldn't crush her to death with my own body. I also couldn't wait and allow her to get to the point that she would try to gasp for breath upon delivery with undeveloped lungs. That was not the life that I wanted for my baby, even if it meant keeping her with me longer.
Call it what you want, but I'll always believe it was the right thing to do and that I gave my baby the best life possible for every single second of it. If the circumstances would have been different, I honestly can't say what I would do because it truly is a situation that you can't comprehend until you're in it. And I hope you never are.
Still--really?!
I understood why I needed to sign a release form that stated that I was willingly having my baby removed from me, but I wish they would have had a "no way out!" stamp they could have put on the top or some kind of "fatal condition" checkbox marked. Because lord knows I really need to feel judged at this moment and to have "elective abortion" listed in my medical records.
So I feel this should be addressed. While I don't really feel the need to defend what we chose to do, I will elect to explain.
Some people find out their children have fatal conditions and choose to carry them to term (or until nature takes its course), giving them every second of a good life that they can give them. I'm glad that they have the right and ability to choose what was best for them--legally, mentally, physically, and (if applicable) religiously. Taking a child to term with a fatal condition is an amazing, selfless act and my heart goes out to everyone put in this situation, no matter what they decide.
When we found out what had happened and understood the particular details of Potters sequence, it was clear that letting her go immediately was the route for us to give our baby the best life that she could have had. She had already swallowed all of my amniotic fluid and without any renal system, she couldn't pee it out to make her comfortable, expand my uterus, and recycle the fluid to develop her lungs.
So no fluid, no moving, no comfort, slowly deforming in a uterus that won't expand... I couldn't do that to her. I couldn't crush her to death with my own body. I also couldn't wait and allow her to get to the point that she would try to gasp for breath upon delivery with undeveloped lungs. That was not the life that I wanted for my baby, even if it meant keeping her with me longer.
Call it what you want, but I'll always believe it was the right thing to do and that I gave my baby the best life possible for every single second of it. If the circumstances would have been different, I honestly can't say what I would do because it truly is a situation that you can't comprehend until you're in it. And I hope you never are.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
How are you doing?
First off, I apologize if I haven't replied to a message that you've sent me. I've been trying to reply to everything, but I know some things have fallen through the cracks along the way. I'm sorry. Please know that I appreciate your thoughtfulness very much. I don't know how I'd be doing without the constant flow of love and support that I've received from all of you.
How am I doing? If you ask, I usually reply with, "Okay." but I don't know if that really gives you any description, so I'll give it a shot here.
Considering the circumstances, I think I'm doing pretty decent. I'm not laying in bed, listening to sad music and crying--not that I think there's anything wrong with that. I get out of bed, go to work, usually manage to get some work done, and by the end of the day I'm pretty drained. I've spent lots of quality time with friends and family, asked for help when I needed it, and generally feel like I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing.
Sometimes I still feel a little out of it or distracted, but most of the time I feel like me. I'm able to laugh, chat with people about other things, and usually I can focus on a task.
But it's still hard. There's a lot of talk about the baby and what happened. Sometimes I feel guilty for dominating conversations and for bringing it up when I want to talk about it, like I'm being an attention whore. But I still feel like there are explanations to make to people and keeping them up to date on how I'm doing both physically and emotionally.
So while I think we're going through a normal grieving process and that's good news--it still pisses me the hell off that we're in this situation to begin with.
I've had more flashes of anger when I think about how excited we were for our big ultrasound and how we got the rug pulled out from underneath us. Even when I was cautious at the beginning of our pregnancy, I honestly never thought that anything would go wrong. This has shaken my faith to the core. I'm not a particularly religious person, so I don't mean "faith" in that way--I'm moreso referring to the immense amount of fear that I now have as I realize that anything can be taken away from me--from any of us.
Anything, at any time.
How am I doing? If you ask, I usually reply with, "Okay." but I don't know if that really gives you any description, so I'll give it a shot here.
Considering the circumstances, I think I'm doing pretty decent. I'm not laying in bed, listening to sad music and crying--not that I think there's anything wrong with that. I get out of bed, go to work, usually manage to get some work done, and by the end of the day I'm pretty drained. I've spent lots of quality time with friends and family, asked for help when I needed it, and generally feel like I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing.
Sometimes I still feel a little out of it or distracted, but most of the time I feel like me. I'm able to laugh, chat with people about other things, and usually I can focus on a task.
But it's still hard. There's a lot of talk about the baby and what happened. Sometimes I feel guilty for dominating conversations and for bringing it up when I want to talk about it, like I'm being an attention whore. But I still feel like there are explanations to make to people and keeping them up to date on how I'm doing both physically and emotionally.
So while I think we're going through a normal grieving process and that's good news--it still pisses me the hell off that we're in this situation to begin with.
I've had more flashes of anger when I think about how excited we were for our big ultrasound and how we got the rug pulled out from underneath us. Even when I was cautious at the beginning of our pregnancy, I honestly never thought that anything would go wrong. This has shaken my faith to the core. I'm not a particularly religious person, so I don't mean "faith" in that way--I'm moreso referring to the immense amount of fear that I now have as I realize that anything can be taken away from me--from any of us.
Anything, at any time.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
2 week post partum checkup
Yesterday wasn't a great day. I had what should have been my post partum checkup with my doctor, but since I'm still spotting we couldn't do the exam. So I'm stuck going back in 3 weeks for the full exam.
My symptoms have been as good/minimal as we could hope for and when we went over my delivery (which I will write about some day) he said that I had one of the very best he's ever had to do under those circumstances. But not exactly something to enjoy patting yourself on the back over.
We went over my laundry list of questions and chatted for awhile. He helped to settle some of the fears that I shared before about if it could have been a bad egg from late ovulation, anything I did, etc. We are also taking him up on an offer to meet with a genetic counselor to see if there is any testing we can have done to rule out other conditions. Sure, they tell you this probably isn't genetic, but quite frankly with the amount of fear that we have right now, I'm happy to rule just about anything out.
We talked about my long cycles and when my period may reappear and how long we should wait. They weren't planning on monitoring my betas, but since I have long cycles, they're going to test my betas at my next appointment to make sure they're decreasing appropriately. Then they'd like me to complete two full cycles to flush out my uterus--and if they're long cycles, I can induce a period with provera. More than anything they said it's the minimum of 12 weeks for my uterus to contract, heal, and return to it's original position. So I'm glad there weren't any 6 month-1 year curveballs thrown our way.
I'm trying to think about what else he told us, but I don't have my question list with me. And I'll probably explore the "When will you TTC again?" question in some detail soon.
I went to work afterwards and for the rest of the day, I just wasn't myself. Maybe it was revisiting what had happened in such detail, maybe it was returning to the "scene of the crime," as the last time I'd been there was to sign my release forms and and DH's last visit was for the big (clusterfuck of a) ultrasound.
Or maybe it was just a reminder that this is something that didn't happen and go away. I'm stuck carrying it with me now and that just fucking sucks.
My symptoms have been as good/minimal as we could hope for and when we went over my delivery (which I will write about some day) he said that I had one of the very best he's ever had to do under those circumstances. But not exactly something to enjoy patting yourself on the back over.
We went over my laundry list of questions and chatted for awhile. He helped to settle some of the fears that I shared before about if it could have been a bad egg from late ovulation, anything I did, etc. We are also taking him up on an offer to meet with a genetic counselor to see if there is any testing we can have done to rule out other conditions. Sure, they tell you this probably isn't genetic, but quite frankly with the amount of fear that we have right now, I'm happy to rule just about anything out.
We talked about my long cycles and when my period may reappear and how long we should wait. They weren't planning on monitoring my betas, but since I have long cycles, they're going to test my betas at my next appointment to make sure they're decreasing appropriately. Then they'd like me to complete two full cycles to flush out my uterus--and if they're long cycles, I can induce a period with provera. More than anything they said it's the minimum of 12 weeks for my uterus to contract, heal, and return to it's original position. So I'm glad there weren't any 6 month-1 year curveballs thrown our way.
I'm trying to think about what else he told us, but I don't have my question list with me. And I'll probably explore the "When will you TTC again?" question in some detail soon.
I went to work afterwards and for the rest of the day, I just wasn't myself. Maybe it was revisiting what had happened in such detail, maybe it was returning to the "scene of the crime," as the last time I'd been there was to sign my release forms and and DH's last visit was for the big (clusterfuck of a) ultrasound.
Or maybe it was just a reminder that this is something that didn't happen and go away. I'm stuck carrying it with me now and that just fucking sucks.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Bitterness and regret
C'mon... You didn't think I'd get through this without some crazy thoughts of bitterness and regret, did you?
The good news is that I'm not a terribly angry person. It takes a lot to make me explode and when I do, I get over it fairly quickly. I believe they call people like me "a slow boil."
Well, I'm simmering a little bit right now.
I have a great life. I really do. Any I've meant every single word that I've said about how grateful I am for what I have--a wonderful husband, a caring, loving, and relatively healthy family, great friends, a good job, a roof over my head and two beautiful cats to love... But WHY OH WHY couldn't I have this one item too? Bad things happen to everyone, I understand that--but why couldn't it be my car breaking down, a job loss, or some other kind of shit luck? Why did it have to be my own flesh and blood taken from me? Dammit!
To be honest, I've never had a loss that was really close to me. I've watched and futily tried to help when friends have lost parents, grandparents, loved ones, best friends, etc--but me? The closest to me have been my sister's best friend, a priest at my church that I adored, and my great grandfather that I barely remember. So this grief thing is pretty new to me--and talk about trial by fire! I know it's nothing like losing someone you've loved for years and developed close knit bonds with, but it's a painful, painful loss nonetheless.
She never had a chance. She never got to breathe air or play in a garden or know what it's like to have her momma hold her close. I never got to see her smile, look in her eyes, and play with her.
And then there's the guilt. Thank you jeebus for 9 years of Catholic school that taught me so well how to agonize. You can tell me something's totally not my fault, but these ideas will still creep into my head, but I will say that I have been able to push them out fairly quickly. And luckily everything that I've read about Potters Syndrome helps to alleviate these things as well... but they still happen.
Was it a bad egg because I ovulated so late? Did all of those early ultrasounds affect development? Was it something I did? Did I not drink enough water, causing this spiral of low fluid early when it was desperately needed? Did I get enough calcium? Did I sleep on my back too much and cut off circulation when my baby needed better blood flow? Was it that one taste of alcohol that I had when I accidentally picked up someone else's drink (I'm still pissed that my water was moved without my knowledge)? What if one of these things happened on the day that those cells were supposed to be dividing, causing this awful chain reaction that couldn't be undone?
I know it's silly. I know it is. Medical studies prove otherwise. But they can't prevent these thoughts from creeping into my brain.
So I guess all I'm saying here is that I needed to put these thoughts in writing so that I could look at them, reassure myself that there's just no way they could have played a factor, and move on from them.
xoxo
The good news is that I'm not a terribly angry person. It takes a lot to make me explode and when I do, I get over it fairly quickly. I believe they call people like me "a slow boil."
Well, I'm simmering a little bit right now.
I have a great life. I really do. Any I've meant every single word that I've said about how grateful I am for what I have--a wonderful husband, a caring, loving, and relatively healthy family, great friends, a good job, a roof over my head and two beautiful cats to love... But WHY OH WHY couldn't I have this one item too? Bad things happen to everyone, I understand that--but why couldn't it be my car breaking down, a job loss, or some other kind of shit luck? Why did it have to be my own flesh and blood taken from me? Dammit!
To be honest, I've never had a loss that was really close to me. I've watched and futily tried to help when friends have lost parents, grandparents, loved ones, best friends, etc--but me? The closest to me have been my sister's best friend, a priest at my church that I adored, and my great grandfather that I barely remember. So this grief thing is pretty new to me--and talk about trial by fire! I know it's nothing like losing someone you've loved for years and developed close knit bonds with, but it's a painful, painful loss nonetheless.
She never had a chance. She never got to breathe air or play in a garden or know what it's like to have her momma hold her close. I never got to see her smile, look in her eyes, and play with her.
And then there's the guilt. Thank you jeebus for 9 years of Catholic school that taught me so well how to agonize. You can tell me something's totally not my fault, but these ideas will still creep into my head, but I will say that I have been able to push them out fairly quickly. And luckily everything that I've read about Potters Syndrome helps to alleviate these things as well... but they still happen.
Was it a bad egg because I ovulated so late? Did all of those early ultrasounds affect development? Was it something I did? Did I not drink enough water, causing this spiral of low fluid early when it was desperately needed? Did I get enough calcium? Did I sleep on my back too much and cut off circulation when my baby needed better blood flow? Was it that one taste of alcohol that I had when I accidentally picked up someone else's drink (I'm still pissed that my water was moved without my knowledge)? What if one of these things happened on the day that those cells were supposed to be dividing, causing this awful chain reaction that couldn't be undone?
I know it's silly. I know it is. Medical studies prove otherwise. But they can't prevent these thoughts from creeping into my brain.
So I guess all I'm saying here is that I needed to put these thoughts in writing so that I could look at them, reassure myself that there's just no way they could have played a factor, and move on from them.
xoxo
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Caught offguard
So I'm meeting with my boss and coworker in the central area of our company and our Starbucks is blasting the newly remastered Beatles collection. I was almost sick to my stomach as I knew it was only a matter of time before "Hey Jude" would pop up.
And then there it was. Clear as a bell and reverberating through my brain. Fuck. It's a song that I like to listen to by myself when I'm feeling up to it--those are the circumstances under which I'm comfortable with it! But not like this. Not catching me offguard and holding me hostage during a business meeting!
About 30 seconds in, I can already start to feel my face get hot and I can feel my eyes just darting around, looking for some sort of escape, telling myself to tune it out and be a big girl.
But then my boss looks at me and says, "Yeah. This probably isn't a great song to hear right now."
That was it. Without even thinking, I closed my notebook and put it down and just managed to say, "I've gotta go. I'll be back" before I broke into tears and hurried into the bathroom where I managed to collect myself after a few minutes.
I knew they understood why I left and I knew they wouldn't think less of me for doing it. But I still wasn't sure how to walk back into the meeting and continue without just breaking down into tears again. So you know what? I went to my desk, took one of my prescribed xanax, and just sat there for a few minutes (Hello? The song is like 7+ minutes long.)
I've been doing my best to not use the drugs that have been offered to me, but you know what? Fuck it. Sometimes you just can't be the hero.
And then there it was. Clear as a bell and reverberating through my brain. Fuck. It's a song that I like to listen to by myself when I'm feeling up to it--those are the circumstances under which I'm comfortable with it! But not like this. Not catching me offguard and holding me hostage during a business meeting!
About 30 seconds in, I can already start to feel my face get hot and I can feel my eyes just darting around, looking for some sort of escape, telling myself to tune it out and be a big girl.
But then my boss looks at me and says, "Yeah. This probably isn't a great song to hear right now."
That was it. Without even thinking, I closed my notebook and put it down and just managed to say, "I've gotta go. I'll be back" before I broke into tears and hurried into the bathroom where I managed to collect myself after a few minutes.
I knew they understood why I left and I knew they wouldn't think less of me for doing it. But I still wasn't sure how to walk back into the meeting and continue without just breaking down into tears again. So you know what? I went to my desk, took one of my prescribed xanax, and just sat there for a few minutes (Hello? The song is like 7+ minutes long.)
I've been doing my best to not use the drugs that have been offered to me, but you know what? Fuck it. Sometimes you just can't be the hero.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Cruel jokes
So my milk started coming in Tuesday night--I could feel my boobs starting to get heavier and more full. I was with friends, so I iced them when I got home. I've been living in a sports bra ever since and last night I started with the cold cabbage leaves. Aaaaahhh, relief!
I have some concerns that my boobs are warm to the touch, rock hard (well, I expected that one) and do have some serious lumps in them. I might have to call the doctor's office since warm-to-touch was on their list of warning signs. I started taking benadryl at night to try to dry them out a bit. Fun, fun, fun, right?
Yesterday we started shopping for cremains containers. This was another item that we surprised ourselves by changing our minds on. A local funeral home donates this service rather than have standard hospital removal (can you believe that kind of generosity and compassion?) And DH has asked that we pick out something that's nice, not morbid, and that he can keep in his office. We didn't find anything that he felt was precious or unique enough, so we're headed to the antique mall today to do some shopping.
And then we'll head to the funeral home to pick up our daughter.
I don't even know what to say about this. And I don't think I need to paint a picture, either.
Speaking of the funeral home, I had been feeling really good on Tuesday and my sisters had been in/out to help me around the house (we've had a lot of family events this summer that I planned so things were quickly spiraling out of control in the housekeeping department) and then it was just me and my mom. The phone rang and it was the funeral home saying that they had all of the proper paperwork and with my permission, they'd proceed.
Thanks. I really needed a phone call to confirm that yes, you can cremate my baby and now I'm trapped with the knowledge that you're doing it right now (or within the next 24 hours since you also informed me that I can pick her up tomorrow.)
Breathe. We knew this was what they were going to do and we knew we'd never see her again. Nothing here is a surprise. Just breathe.
All I can say is at this point is I'm glad that it was me who got the call and not DH. He's taking it really hard and didn't have the instant "at your fingertips" support system that I've had. But he's now reaching out to friends and getting the support he needs.
I keep repeating to myself, "one day/hour/minute at a time," but it's funny--that's the only choice we're given in life is to live one day/hour/minute at a time. I say this to give myself permission to change my mind about what I need or want, but it just strikes me as an interesting phrase.
People are always saying it like instructions--just take one day at a time. But to me in my head, I'm kinda like, YAY! Only one day at a time--because god knows I'm not ready to handle more than that.
Oh, and I've also been struck with an unbelievable amount of regret that I just didn't give the baby my maiden name as a middle name. She doesn't have a middle name and I don't know why I didn't think of it since we were considering it for a middle name anyway. *sigh* But there's no point in changing it--It's just a death certificate and not a birth certificate since it was stillborn.
Okie dokie. That's enough for today. TTYL
xoxo
I have some concerns that my boobs are warm to the touch, rock hard (well, I expected that one) and do have some serious lumps in them. I might have to call the doctor's office since warm-to-touch was on their list of warning signs. I started taking benadryl at night to try to dry them out a bit. Fun, fun, fun, right?
Yesterday we started shopping for cremains containers. This was another item that we surprised ourselves by changing our minds on. A local funeral home donates this service rather than have standard hospital removal (can you believe that kind of generosity and compassion?) And DH has asked that we pick out something that's nice, not morbid, and that he can keep in his office. We didn't find anything that he felt was precious or unique enough, so we're headed to the antique mall today to do some shopping.
And then we'll head to the funeral home to pick up our daughter.
I don't even know what to say about this. And I don't think I need to paint a picture, either.
Speaking of the funeral home, I had been feeling really good on Tuesday and my sisters had been in/out to help me around the house (we've had a lot of family events this summer that I planned so things were quickly spiraling out of control in the housekeeping department) and then it was just me and my mom. The phone rang and it was the funeral home saying that they had all of the proper paperwork and with my permission, they'd proceed.
Thanks. I really needed a phone call to confirm that yes, you can cremate my baby and now I'm trapped with the knowledge that you're doing it right now (or within the next 24 hours since you also informed me that I can pick her up tomorrow.)
Breathe. We knew this was what they were going to do and we knew we'd never see her again. Nothing here is a surprise. Just breathe.
All I can say is at this point is I'm glad that it was me who got the call and not DH. He's taking it really hard and didn't have the instant "at your fingertips" support system that I've had. But he's now reaching out to friends and getting the support he needs.
I keep repeating to myself, "one day/hour/minute at a time," but it's funny--that's the only choice we're given in life is to live one day/hour/minute at a time. I say this to give myself permission to change my mind about what I need or want, but it just strikes me as an interesting phrase.
People are always saying it like instructions--just take one day at a time. But to me in my head, I'm kinda like, YAY! Only one day at a time--because god knows I'm not ready to handle more than that.
Oh, and I've also been struck with an unbelievable amount of regret that I just didn't give the baby my maiden name as a middle name. She doesn't have a middle name and I don't know why I didn't think of it since we were considering it for a middle name anyway. *sigh* But there's no point in changing it--It's just a death certificate and not a birth certificate since it was stillborn.
Okie dokie. That's enough for today. TTYL
xoxo
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Let it out and let it in.
It's cliche, yet so very appropriate...
Hey Jude, don't make it bad.
Take a sad song and make it better.
Remember to let her into your heart,
Then you can start to make it better.
Hey Jude, don't be afraid.
You were made to go out and get her.
The minute you let her under your skin,
Then you begin to make it better.
And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain,
Don't carry the world upon your shoulders.
For well you know that its a fool who plays it cool
By making his world a little colder.
Hey Jude, don't let me down.
You have found her, now go and get her.
Remember to let her into your heart,
Then you can start to make it better.
So let it out and let it in, hey Jude, begin,
You're waiting for someone to perform with.
And don't you know that its just you, hey Jude, you'll do,
The movement you need is on your shoulder.
Hey Jude, don't make it bad.
Take a sad song and make it better.
Remember to let her under your skin,
Then you'll begin to make it
Better better better better better better, oh.
Na na na na na ,na na na, hey Jude...
Hey Jude, don't make it bad.
Take a sad song and make it better.
Remember to let her into your heart,
Then you can start to make it better.
Hey Jude, don't be afraid.
You were made to go out and get her.
The minute you let her under your skin,
Then you begin to make it better.
And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain,
Don't carry the world upon your shoulders.
For well you know that its a fool who plays it cool
By making his world a little colder.
Hey Jude, don't let me down.
You have found her, now go and get her.
Remember to let her into your heart,
Then you can start to make it better.
So let it out and let it in, hey Jude, begin,
You're waiting for someone to perform with.
And don't you know that its just you, hey Jude, you'll do,
The movement you need is on your shoulder.
Hey Jude, don't make it bad.
Take a sad song and make it better.
Remember to let her under your skin,
Then you'll begin to make it
Better better better better better better, oh.
Na na na na na ,na na na, hey Jude...
Monday, August 31, 2009
You only get to choose what you hold onto
My dad strikes again.
When he came to see me and the baby, he told me that, "All there is in life is love. That's what gets us through and that's what we hold onto."
So that's what I choose--I choose love and I choose to let it multiply and thrive.
I choose the love of my beautiful, sensitive husband, my friends and family, and yes, the love that I have for my baby and that I know my baby has for me. I'd rather spend 6 hours with her (seemed like 10 minutes) than never to have known the love of cuddling and kissing her, even though she was already gone on arrival. I'm going to hang onto that love and take it with me.
I surprised myself in so many ways this past weekend. It quickly became obvious that I wasn't having a miscarriage. This wasn't something that would just go away. I had a baby. And even if that baby was coming into the world already at peace, it still needed it's momma. So that's what I chose to be and I am so, so glad that I did.
I know to some it may be strange that I'm here and I'm talking about this so openly and sharing my grief, but honestly I've always been one to wear my heart on my sleeve and when I have the words, I share them.
I have my dark moments. I've cried until I couldn't breathe. But when I have that moment to gasp for breath, I'm so grateful to have that breath to take.
We all have choices of what we hold onto in life--our bad childhoods, our fears, our insecurities, etc. But really--the easiest and most beneficial choice is to hang onto the love. I don't consider it an act of strength. It's just life.
When he came to see me and the baby, he told me that, "All there is in life is love. That's what gets us through and that's what we hold onto."
So that's what I choose--I choose love and I choose to let it multiply and thrive.
I choose the love of my beautiful, sensitive husband, my friends and family, and yes, the love that I have for my baby and that I know my baby has for me. I'd rather spend 6 hours with her (seemed like 10 minutes) than never to have known the love of cuddling and kissing her, even though she was already gone on arrival. I'm going to hang onto that love and take it with me.
I surprised myself in so many ways this past weekend. It quickly became obvious that I wasn't having a miscarriage. This wasn't something that would just go away. I had a baby. And even if that baby was coming into the world already at peace, it still needed it's momma. So that's what I chose to be and I am so, so glad that I did.
I know to some it may be strange that I'm here and I'm talking about this so openly and sharing my grief, but honestly I've always been one to wear my heart on my sleeve and when I have the words, I share them.
I have my dark moments. I've cried until I couldn't breathe. But when I have that moment to gasp for breath, I'm so grateful to have that breath to take.
We all have choices of what we hold onto in life--our bad childhoods, our fears, our insecurities, etc. But really--the easiest and most beneficial choice is to hang onto the love. I don't consider it an act of strength. It's just life.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Too sweet to stay
The past two days have blown my mind and changed my life in ways that I never expected, nor thought possible. In fact, just about everything I expected or worried about turned out to be the exact opposite. I'll share more as I can pull my thoughts together. For now I'm just going to record what I want to remember the most.
Our little girl would have turned out to be so beautiful. For as small as she was, she had chubby little cheeks, her dad's nose and hair color (on her eyebrows), and my chin and feet and hands--long and slender. I don't know whose lips she had, but they were so full and lovely.
I couldn't stop staring at her perfect little nose and sneaking a peek under the blanket at her perfect little bubble toes and the tiny creases on the bottom of her feet. Even when there were people in the room, I didn't want to take my eyes off of her. I'd see them again another time, but this was all of the time that I had.
So lovely, so peaceful, so gentle.
Baby Jude
August 29, 2009
12 oz, 10 inches
(EDIT: Yes, those feet are almost exactly to scale.)
Our little girl would have turned out to be so beautiful. For as small as she was, she had chubby little cheeks, her dad's nose and hair color (on her eyebrows), and my chin and feet and hands--long and slender. I don't know whose lips she had, but they were so full and lovely.
I couldn't stop staring at her perfect little nose and sneaking a peek under the blanket at her perfect little bubble toes and the tiny creases on the bottom of her feet. Even when there were people in the room, I didn't want to take my eyes off of her. I'd see them again another time, but this was all of the time that I had.
So lovely, so peaceful, so gentle.
Baby Jude
August 29, 2009
12 oz, 10 inches
(EDIT: Yes, those feet are almost exactly to scale.)
Friday, August 28, 2009
Maybe I don't have any words...
but I do have something to share, one of my favorite songs by Ohio-based band Over the Rhine. And the imagery is especially appropriate, considering the lovely tribute that the GP'ers did for me yesterday.
xoxo,
MSC
xoxo,
MSC
What's next?
So I made it to 6 a.m. again--I consider that a good sign. The valium did help me fall asleep and stay asleep most of the night.
Last night after it kicked in, I suddenly had this frenzy to find some things of significance to take to the hospital, just in case I was suddenly overwhelmed with motherly abilities. I threw one of my receiving blankets from when I was a baby into the wash and I pulled out a rosary that my aunt made me for my confirmation that's made of heart shaped beads. I also scribbled in my baby journal for awhile (lord only knows why since I'm the only one who is going to read it now) and wrote out a laundry list of questions (god only knows if they're coherent) for the doctor.
And so here I am, sitting and waiting for this huge question mark of "What's gonna happen?" to reveal itself to me. I know people have gone through this before. I know that it shouldn't be as hard (physically) as full term labor, but I also know it's going to hurt, inside and out. And this labor that I'd longed for isn't going to happen.
It's a means to an end. I know that. And it has to happen. But it still feels like my heart's been ripped out and stomped on. The rug's been completely pulled out from under me and all of these hopes and dreams for what could be have been wiped out.
I know "what's left?" but what's next?
That I can't answer and it absolutely terrifies me.
I don't know if I'll be back before we leave (depends on if I have anything to say) but I'm going to go and spend some quiet time alone with my little love bug to say goodbye while it's just us. I don't think I can speak those words out loud with anyone else around.
Lots of love,
MSC
EDIT:
If there's one bright spot in this to be seen, it's that whenever I look at my dearest husband, I smile. I truly do love that man with all of my heart and I'm so grateful to have him and this wonderful life we have together. (Yes, I do believe that my life is generally wonderful, despite what's happening right now.)
He might not be able to be my rock right now, but he somehow is still exactly what I need. We take care of each other in this amazing, almost completely intuitive way that has made this more bearable. I'm so overwhelmed with gratitude for him that sometimes I almost think it's selfish to ask for anything more.
Audrey Hepburn said it best... "The best thing in life to hold on to is each other."
Last night after it kicked in, I suddenly had this frenzy to find some things of significance to take to the hospital, just in case I was suddenly overwhelmed with motherly abilities. I threw one of my receiving blankets from when I was a baby into the wash and I pulled out a rosary that my aunt made me for my confirmation that's made of heart shaped beads. I also scribbled in my baby journal for awhile (lord only knows why since I'm the only one who is going to read it now) and wrote out a laundry list of questions (god only knows if they're coherent) for the doctor.
And so here I am, sitting and waiting for this huge question mark of "What's gonna happen?" to reveal itself to me. I know people have gone through this before. I know that it shouldn't be as hard (physically) as full term labor, but I also know it's going to hurt, inside and out. And this labor that I'd longed for isn't going to happen.
It's a means to an end. I know that. And it has to happen. But it still feels like my heart's been ripped out and stomped on. The rug's been completely pulled out from under me and all of these hopes and dreams for what could be have been wiped out.
I know "what's left?" but what's next?
That I can't answer and it absolutely terrifies me.
I don't know if I'll be back before we leave (depends on if I have anything to say) but I'm going to go and spend some quiet time alone with my little love bug to say goodbye while it's just us. I don't think I can speak those words out loud with anyone else around.
Lots of love,
MSC
EDIT:
If there's one bright spot in this to be seen, it's that whenever I look at my dearest husband, I smile. I truly do love that man with all of my heart and I'm so grateful to have him and this wonderful life we have together. (Yes, I do believe that my life is generally wonderful, despite what's happening right now.)
He might not be able to be my rock right now, but he somehow is still exactly what I need. We take care of each other in this amazing, almost completely intuitive way that has made this more bearable. I'm so overwhelmed with gratitude for him that sometimes I almost think it's selfish to ask for anything more.
Audrey Hepburn said it best... "The best thing in life to hold on to is each other."
Thursday, August 27, 2009
My pity party
God, I just keep clicking around the internet for no apparent reason. I just don't want to go to bed and have tomorrow come.
I am so fucking scared.
I am so fucking scared.
On the eve of this all...
I can't even begin to tell you how much the outpouring of support means to me. I never thought it would be so comforting to hear, "I'm sorry and I love you." My family, my friends, and my lovely e-friends. The posts, the emails, the private messages, the phone calls (even if I can't answer them), everything. You are all so amazing.
As far as my self assessment, I feel like I have a strong grasp on what's happened and I don't second guess the diagnosis and I'm cleared of any guilt that it's something I did. Sure, in the back of my head I have moments of, "What if it was my self doubt about if I'll be a good mother? What if it was bad karma?" but really? Those don't carry too much weight with me and so far it's easy to shrug it off.
It had to happen to someone. And actually, I don't really believe that there's someone up in the clouds who has to choose who it happens to. I don't really know if it's part of a greater plan. To me, it's just a statistic. I pulled the unlucky number. I can live with that. I don't want it to be that way, but I can live.
But tomorrow... Oooohhhh, tomorrow! I wish it did not have to come. This is not how I wanted my first labor to be. I was so excited for labor, as crazy as that sounds. It's supposed to be a miracle and a rite of passage that I held in the highest esteem... But not this way.
For those that are curious, they're going to give me a pill of cytotec every 4 hours to induce labor. When it finally gets uncomfortable, I'm opting for the epidural (in case I end up having to have a D&C afterwards that means they won't have to put me out and I don't want to be put out because of what it does to your body and recovery time). Pushing shouldn't be bad.
But what happens after that? Will it be gone already? Will it breathe? Can it possibly even choke out a cry? Will I suddenly be overwhelmed with the need to see it?
It's going to be a strange mental battle for me. I am terrified, petrified, and I don't know what other word to use to describe how afraid I am of dead things. It's almost debilitating. Dead animals, dead bodies, everything. Like if I'm in a funeral home, I can't walk near/look at a dead body. I just can't--it makes me physically ill.
So does it make me a bad mother if I can't see my baby or hold it? Is it a defense mechanism? Does it allow me to disassociate it all? Will my motherly instincts kick in and overcome this fear? Will I regret it?
I don't honestly know. All I can do is do what's best for me moment by moment and trust my best judgement.
I've read all of these loss forums over the past day. Most say to hold it, take pictures, etc. But I can't help but think that these forums and websites are representing a part of the population that needs these things for closure. I can't say that I can count myself in that number.
In my deepest darkest gut, I don't want to remember this as my baby who died. I want to remember it as my pregnancy that didn't work out. And I guess I'm going to have to keep following this gut for self preservation.
Anyway, the valium that I took a little while ago is kicking in. They wrote a script for me to get through this and I didn't need it during the day, but I'm gonna go ahead and enjoy it tonight to help me sleep. Tomorrow's gonna be a long day.
All my love, MSC
As far as my self assessment, I feel like I have a strong grasp on what's happened and I don't second guess the diagnosis and I'm cleared of any guilt that it's something I did. Sure, in the back of my head I have moments of, "What if it was my self doubt about if I'll be a good mother? What if it was bad karma?" but really? Those don't carry too much weight with me and so far it's easy to shrug it off.
It had to happen to someone. And actually, I don't really believe that there's someone up in the clouds who has to choose who it happens to. I don't really know if it's part of a greater plan. To me, it's just a statistic. I pulled the unlucky number. I can live with that. I don't want it to be that way, but I can live.
But tomorrow... Oooohhhh, tomorrow! I wish it did not have to come. This is not how I wanted my first labor to be. I was so excited for labor, as crazy as that sounds. It's supposed to be a miracle and a rite of passage that I held in the highest esteem... But not this way.
For those that are curious, they're going to give me a pill of cytotec every 4 hours to induce labor. When it finally gets uncomfortable, I'm opting for the epidural (in case I end up having to have a D&C afterwards that means they won't have to put me out and I don't want to be put out because of what it does to your body and recovery time). Pushing shouldn't be bad.
But what happens after that? Will it be gone already? Will it breathe? Can it possibly even choke out a cry? Will I suddenly be overwhelmed with the need to see it?
It's going to be a strange mental battle for me. I am terrified, petrified, and I don't know what other word to use to describe how afraid I am of dead things. It's almost debilitating. Dead animals, dead bodies, everything. Like if I'm in a funeral home, I can't walk near/look at a dead body. I just can't--it makes me physically ill.
So does it make me a bad mother if I can't see my baby or hold it? Is it a defense mechanism? Does it allow me to disassociate it all? Will my motherly instincts kick in and overcome this fear? Will I regret it?
I don't honestly know. All I can do is do what's best for me moment by moment and trust my best judgement.
I've read all of these loss forums over the past day. Most say to hold it, take pictures, etc. But I can't help but think that these forums and websites are representing a part of the population that needs these things for closure. I can't say that I can count myself in that number.
In my deepest darkest gut, I don't want to remember this as my baby who died. I want to remember it as my pregnancy that didn't work out. And I guess I'm going to have to keep following this gut for self preservation.
Anyway, the valium that I took a little while ago is kicking in. They wrote a script for me to get through this and I didn't need it during the day, but I'm gonna go ahead and enjoy it tonight to help me sleep. Tomorrow's gonna be a long day.
All my love, MSC
So yesterday really happened, didn't it?
I awoke a few times during the night last night, shifted around, and reminded myself of what happened. And surprisingly, I actually made it to close to 6 a.m. before I just started bawling.
Yesterday really happened. This is what it feels like when you're told that your baby absolutely is going to die after you've carried it for five months. This is what it feels like to know you have to deliver a dead (or dying) baby. This is grief.
Huh. Never really been there before.
To tell you the honest truth, I lead a pretty charmed life. My family's in reasonable health and I haven't lost anyone really close to me before. I guess I just never thought it would be my child. How's that for irony? Wait. Is that actually "irony?" *sigh* I can't think.
You know it's funny. When I saw my sisters yesterday, I think they were both hoping that when they heard the full story that they'd see a glimmer or hope or that I'd just been a drama queen when I talked to them earlier on the phone. And believe me, I wish I was too. But that's it. It's the end of the road. What the fuck?!?!
I'm terrified of delivering this baby and what's to follow. Right now it's a death sentence, but no one is dead. In fact, I can still feel this little person wiggling around in my belly as if it's a little Who down in Whoville saying, "We are here! We are here! We are here!"
But it isn't really there. Not to stay.
I understand it's a numbers game. I understand that I pulled the unlucky number. And it had to be 1/6000 pregnancies that this happens to, it happened to me and my DH who can handle it. We will grieve, but it will get better.
It's funny that what started out as my original blog title has become more true than ever. The story behind it is sorta long, but I'll share it anyway.
My dad is an odd sort of bird who always says these philosophical things to people who never get it. We have this video of Christmas 1989 where me and all of my little cousins are tearing through our gifts and after they're all passed out my little cousin (who is about 6 at the time) asks my dad, "What's left?" To which my dad replies simply, "What's left? What's left you ask? There's life!"
When we saw this on video many years later we laughed so hard. Here's my dad trying to explain the end of the presents in a philosophical way to a child. Hilarious. Soooo dad.
So what's left you ask?
There's life, my dears. And yes, it will continue.
xoxo,
MSC
Yesterday really happened. This is what it feels like when you're told that your baby absolutely is going to die after you've carried it for five months. This is what it feels like to know you have to deliver a dead (or dying) baby. This is grief.
Huh. Never really been there before.
To tell you the honest truth, I lead a pretty charmed life. My family's in reasonable health and I haven't lost anyone really close to me before. I guess I just never thought it would be my child. How's that for irony? Wait. Is that actually "irony?" *sigh* I can't think.
You know it's funny. When I saw my sisters yesterday, I think they were both hoping that when they heard the full story that they'd see a glimmer or hope or that I'd just been a drama queen when I talked to them earlier on the phone. And believe me, I wish I was too. But that's it. It's the end of the road. What the fuck?!?!
I'm terrified of delivering this baby and what's to follow. Right now it's a death sentence, but no one is dead. In fact, I can still feel this little person wiggling around in my belly as if it's a little Who down in Whoville saying, "We are here! We are here! We are here!"
But it isn't really there. Not to stay.
I understand it's a numbers game. I understand that I pulled the unlucky number. And it had to be 1/6000 pregnancies that this happens to, it happened to me and my DH who can handle it. We will grieve, but it will get better.
It's funny that what started out as my original blog title has become more true than ever. The story behind it is sorta long, but I'll share it anyway.
My dad is an odd sort of bird who always says these philosophical things to people who never get it. We have this video of Christmas 1989 where me and all of my little cousins are tearing through our gifts and after they're all passed out my little cousin (who is about 6 at the time) asks my dad, "What's left?" To which my dad replies simply, "What's left? What's left you ask? There's life!"
When we saw this on video many years later we laughed so hard. Here's my dad trying to explain the end of the presents in a philosophical way to a child. Hilarious. Soooo dad.
So what's left you ask?
There's life, my dears. And yes, it will continue.
xoxo,
MSC
Bad news. Like, the worst news possible.
Forgive me if this is redundant to some of you, but it's just about the only way that I can explain the clusterfuck of badness that has happened.
We went in for our anatomy scan at 8 am and immediately everything was very grainy and hard to see. The baby was butt down and legs up and she couldn't even get remotely close to see the gender. And at the moment she said that I was pretty okay with it--as long as everything else turned out okay.
But it didn't. She only got to measure the heart and the brain because that was all she could get to. She commented on the lack of amniotic fluid making it hard for her to see anything, but that she'd go talk to the doctor and they'd probably be sending us to a specialist because usually when there's a lack of fluid like that it signals a kidney or a placenta problem.
Excuse me? Those are two very scary things!
She returns from talking to the doctor and wants to measure a few more items, but it doesn't seem like she finds what she's looking for. I try not to let panic creep in.
We talk to the doctor (who was Captain Cheerful as he shoved us out the door) who set us up with a specialist at 10:30. So we go home, we Google, and we wait.
So I read up and it seems that low amniotic fluid can be bad, especially this early can be kidneys/placenta, but it can be a few other things. So I root for those options, arm myself with a little info, and get into the car.
While in the car, I flip over the page that the doctor's office gave us with directions. The other side is the fax that they sent the specialist--that states I have NO AMNIOTIC FLUID with underlining and stars. I immediately lose it. It's not good.
I lose it again when we pull into the parking lot and I feel the baby wiggle inside of me. AAAHHH! It's a living nightmare.
I try to pull it together as we head there and wait in the waiting room. Then the u/s tech comes in and does her thing, takes a million photos, and just keeps searching. Finally she just marks a blank area, "Kidney area." I know what this means, but I just can't comprehend it. I can also see that as she takes her measurements that some things are just all over the place--giving due dates ranging from Dec. 17 to April (I'm assuming the non-existent kidneys.)
She left the room to get the doctor and I turned to my DH and said, "She didn't find kidneys. She just marked that a kidney area." He knew.
The specialist comes in and does her own search, takes another 100 photos and measurements, and then says to come into her office. She brings in another doctor and they tell us the news.
The baby has no kidneys and no bladder (in fact, I think the only digestive organ they found was a stomach). What happens in your first trimester is that your amniotic fluid is a saltwater mixture, but as you get into your 2nd tri, the baby starts to swallow the water which makes the lungs develop and the baby pees it out.
So our baby has swallowed the water, but it can't get it out. And it never will because it doesn't have the organs to do so. The baby is just stuffed in there because without amniotic fluid, the uterus can't keep expanding and the baby just gets more and more stuck.
It's a random occurrence. It's not preventable, it's not treatable and it has a zero chance of survival. They were very, very clear with us on this.
So that's it. They're calling tomorrow to discuss delivery options.
We went in for our anatomy scan at 8 am and immediately everything was very grainy and hard to see. The baby was butt down and legs up and she couldn't even get remotely close to see the gender. And at the moment she said that I was pretty okay with it--as long as everything else turned out okay.
But it didn't. She only got to measure the heart and the brain because that was all she could get to. She commented on the lack of amniotic fluid making it hard for her to see anything, but that she'd go talk to the doctor and they'd probably be sending us to a specialist because usually when there's a lack of fluid like that it signals a kidney or a placenta problem.
Excuse me? Those are two very scary things!
She returns from talking to the doctor and wants to measure a few more items, but it doesn't seem like she finds what she's looking for. I try not to let panic creep in.
We talk to the doctor (who was Captain Cheerful as he shoved us out the door) who set us up with a specialist at 10:30. So we go home, we Google, and we wait.
So I read up and it seems that low amniotic fluid can be bad, especially this early can be kidneys/placenta, but it can be a few other things. So I root for those options, arm myself with a little info, and get into the car.
While in the car, I flip over the page that the doctor's office gave us with directions. The other side is the fax that they sent the specialist--that states I have NO AMNIOTIC FLUID with underlining and stars. I immediately lose it. It's not good.
I lose it again when we pull into the parking lot and I feel the baby wiggle inside of me. AAAHHH! It's a living nightmare.
I try to pull it together as we head there and wait in the waiting room. Then the u/s tech comes in and does her thing, takes a million photos, and just keeps searching. Finally she just marks a blank area, "Kidney area." I know what this means, but I just can't comprehend it. I can also see that as she takes her measurements that some things are just all over the place--giving due dates ranging from Dec. 17 to April (I'm assuming the non-existent kidneys.)
She left the room to get the doctor and I turned to my DH and said, "She didn't find kidneys. She just marked that a kidney area." He knew.
The specialist comes in and does her own search, takes another 100 photos and measurements, and then says to come into her office. She brings in another doctor and they tell us the news.
The baby has no kidneys and no bladder (in fact, I think the only digestive organ they found was a stomach). What happens in your first trimester is that your amniotic fluid is a saltwater mixture, but as you get into your 2nd tri, the baby starts to swallow the water which makes the lungs develop and the baby pees it out.
So our baby has swallowed the water, but it can't get it out. And it never will because it doesn't have the organs to do so. The baby is just stuffed in there because without amniotic fluid, the uterus can't keep expanding and the baby just gets more and more stuck.
It's a random occurrence. It's not preventable, it's not treatable and it has a zero chance of survival. They were very, very clear with us on this.
So that's it. They're calling tomorrow to discuss delivery options.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
The Final Countdown
So… Why have I been quiet? Have I been busy? Have I not had things to say?
I honestly don’t know. I only have the lame sorts of excuses given by tweens who didn’t do their homework. I may promise to do better, but it’s probably a lie. *sigh*
But let’s roll like the comic books do and start in the thick of the plot. Drumroll please.
In Media Res…
This summer’s been an eventful one. I’ve been party planning my (not so) little tushy off for friends and family. Birthday parties, an engagement party, family cookouts… The list goes on and on. Throw in a little family vaycay to the OBX and a weekend on the lake with the IL’s and you have a full-fledged summer.
Except Ohio sucks and forgot to add the warm weather to the mix. We’re always forgetting something!
I’ve had things to say—but I’ve been recording all of my “letters to baby” in a paper journal so that my kid will have a better understanding of the importance of paying attention in penmanship classes. Wait, do they still do penmanship? Am I dating myself by admitting that we had penmanship? Shit.
The rest of my daily trials and tribulations get posted to my message board(s) of choice. So at the risk of being even more redundant, I haven’t been blogging.
But here’s what you really came here for:
I feel fine. Sure, I have random stabbing pains through my abdomen and lady bits and there are new oddities that pop up daily, but I’m just so effing grateful that I skipped morning sickness that overall I have to say that this pregnancy has been pretty easy so far. *knocks on wood*
And I bet you can’t guess what tomorrow is! While you try and guess, let me provide you with some entertainment (and the song that's stuck in my head right now, also showing my age.)
The big ultrasound! The day that I’ve been dying for since I got my BFP. The day I’ve obsessed, lost sleep over, and tried to manipulate my midwife into giving me an earlier date. Yes, it’s here!
So you ask, “Aren’t you excited, MSC? Are you freaking the fuck out like I thought you would?”
Meh.
It’s weird. Over the past few weeks, something has come over me that has released the anxiousness that I felt before. Sure, I’m glad that I’ll get to see my baby and check in to make sure it’s doing fine, but really? In my very core I guess at this moment I don’t care about the gender that much and everything feels like it’s going just fine.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s going to be great to actually get to shop and stop waiting to get things rolling, but there’s something about things starting to roll (and not to be able to stop) that has made me really relish and savor this moment.
It’s a world of possibility right now and I’ve been sitting back and smiling at it.
I’ve also been enjoying the past two weeks as I’ve started to feel a little motion. Still nothing distinct like a kick, but a general movement in my abdomen—sometimes a motion sick feeling, sometimes little pops. And my intestines are waaaaay up in my ribs so when my food digests, they vibrate like a cell phone is going off. Bizarre.
All of this combined is making it start to feel more real for me. I know it seems fairly simple and you’re all going to look at each other and say, “Duh, you’re a total dumbass” when I say this, but it just blows my mind that two people can come together and make another human being. Mindblowing, I tell you.
I am so ridiculously in love with my husband right now that I can barely handle it. I can’t even fathom creating something that’s uniquely both of us for us to nurture and love. (Okay, okay, enough mushy stuff!)
So tomorrow I’ll be around with an update… My boss has been forewarned that I’ll be spending the rest of the day selecting bedding, finalizing nursery plans, and shopping Hartstrings clearance, so I think we’re all set!
XOXO, MSC
I honestly don’t know. I only have the lame sorts of excuses given by tweens who didn’t do their homework. I may promise to do better, but it’s probably a lie. *sigh*
But let’s roll like the comic books do and start in the thick of the plot. Drumroll please.
In Media Res…
This summer’s been an eventful one. I’ve been party planning my (not so) little tushy off for friends and family. Birthday parties, an engagement party, family cookouts… The list goes on and on. Throw in a little family vaycay to the OBX and a weekend on the lake with the IL’s and you have a full-fledged summer.
Except Ohio sucks and forgot to add the warm weather to the mix. We’re always forgetting something!
I’ve had things to say—but I’ve been recording all of my “letters to baby” in a paper journal so that my kid will have a better understanding of the importance of paying attention in penmanship classes. Wait, do they still do penmanship? Am I dating myself by admitting that we had penmanship? Shit.
The rest of my daily trials and tribulations get posted to my message board(s) of choice. So at the risk of being even more redundant, I haven’t been blogging.
But here’s what you really came here for:
I feel fine. Sure, I have random stabbing pains through my abdomen and lady bits and there are new oddities that pop up daily, but I’m just so effing grateful that I skipped morning sickness that overall I have to say that this pregnancy has been pretty easy so far. *knocks on wood*
And I bet you can’t guess what tomorrow is! While you try and guess, let me provide you with some entertainment (and the song that's stuck in my head right now, also showing my age.)
The big ultrasound! The day that I’ve been dying for since I got my BFP. The day I’ve obsessed, lost sleep over, and tried to manipulate my midwife into giving me an earlier date. Yes, it’s here!
So you ask, “Aren’t you excited, MSC? Are you freaking the fuck out like I thought you would?”
Meh.
It’s weird. Over the past few weeks, something has come over me that has released the anxiousness that I felt before. Sure, I’m glad that I’ll get to see my baby and check in to make sure it’s doing fine, but really? In my very core I guess at this moment I don’t care about the gender that much and everything feels like it’s going just fine.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s going to be great to actually get to shop and stop waiting to get things rolling, but there’s something about things starting to roll (and not to be able to stop) that has made me really relish and savor this moment.
It’s a world of possibility right now and I’ve been sitting back and smiling at it.
I’ve also been enjoying the past two weeks as I’ve started to feel a little motion. Still nothing distinct like a kick, but a general movement in my abdomen—sometimes a motion sick feeling, sometimes little pops. And my intestines are waaaaay up in my ribs so when my food digests, they vibrate like a cell phone is going off. Bizarre.
All of this combined is making it start to feel more real for me. I know it seems fairly simple and you’re all going to look at each other and say, “Duh, you’re a total dumbass” when I say this, but it just blows my mind that two people can come together and make another human being. Mindblowing, I tell you.
I am so ridiculously in love with my husband right now that I can barely handle it. I can’t even fathom creating something that’s uniquely both of us for us to nurture and love. (Okay, okay, enough mushy stuff!)
So tomorrow I’ll be around with an update… My boss has been forewarned that I’ll be spending the rest of the day selecting bedding, finalizing nursery plans, and shopping Hartstrings clearance, so I think we’re all set!
XOXO, MSC
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Something to bore you...
I know a lot of PG people fill these out and I always found them terribly boring, but I guess I should record these items for posterity's sake.
How far along? 13 1/2 weeks
Total weight gain/loss: about 5 lbs. 4 if I'm drinking a lot of water, 6 if I'm retaining water.
Maternity clothes? They're not a necessity at this point, but I have a few items (like these great jeans I got last week) that I'm starting to sneak in rather than buying larger sizes.
Stretch marks? None.
Sleep: I had a few nights of insomnia, probably induced by me trying to sleep on my side instead of my back, but last night I just slept any which way, which was fabulous.
Best moment this week: Switching over to 2T on TheBump! 1T was not for me.
Movement: Only my ass widening.
Food cravings: OJ in the morning (I bought all of these fancy juices and I can barely bring myself to drink them). That's about it.
Food aversions (added this!): bananas. I think I'd rather die than eat one and I used to love them.
Gender: TBD. I set my big u/s appt at my next appt on the 22nd. Is it wrong that I'm thinking of giving them my LMP date instead of O date so that they put me in earlier?
Labor Signs: Oh god no.
Belly Button in or out? In.
What I miss: I don't really think I'm missing anything. I was going to take hang gliding lessons next week while on vacation (before I got PG) but that plan is nixed and I'm kinda sad about that.
What I am looking forward to: Nesting and getting the baby's room together
Weekly Wisdom: Ha! I have none. I'm just lucky. Ridiculously lucky.
Milestones: TheBump says I'm in the 2nd tri! Oh, and rumor has it that my behbeh is the size of a peach or a lemon... That's so amazing!!
How far along? 13 1/2 weeks
Total weight gain/loss: about 5 lbs. 4 if I'm drinking a lot of water, 6 if I'm retaining water.
Maternity clothes? They're not a necessity at this point, but I have a few items (like these great jeans I got last week) that I'm starting to sneak in rather than buying larger sizes.
Stretch marks? None.
Sleep: I had a few nights of insomnia, probably induced by me trying to sleep on my side instead of my back, but last night I just slept any which way, which was fabulous.
Best moment this week: Switching over to 2T on TheBump! 1T was not for me.
Movement: Only my ass widening.
Food cravings: OJ in the morning (I bought all of these fancy juices and I can barely bring myself to drink them). That's about it.
Food aversions (added this!): bananas. I think I'd rather die than eat one and I used to love them.
Gender: TBD. I set my big u/s appt at my next appt on the 22nd. Is it wrong that I'm thinking of giving them my LMP date instead of O date so that they put me in earlier?
Labor Signs: Oh god no.
Belly Button in or out? In.
What I miss: I don't really think I'm missing anything. I was going to take hang gliding lessons next week while on vacation (before I got PG) but that plan is nixed and I'm kinda sad about that.
What I am looking forward to: Nesting and getting the baby's room together
Weekly Wisdom: Ha! I have none. I'm just lucky. Ridiculously lucky.
Milestones: TheBump says I'm in the 2nd tri! Oh, and rumor has it that my behbeh is the size of a peach or a lemon... That's so amazing!!
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Dream from last week... a belated post
So I had this awful dream last night that I had to go in for testing and the girl at the front desk was a total rude bitch to me--not answering my questions, acting like I was stupid for not already knowing everything they were going to do, etc. I finally flipped my bitch switch, went off on her, and asked for someone else to help me--and everyone thought *I* was being crazy instead of justified in my frustration.
Then I go into this room where these weird testing machines drop down from the ceiling and when I light blinked, you had to click the corresponding lever to test your vision and reaction time. Only they didn't tell me that was what the test was, so I didn't understand what I was supposed to do. And to make this test even more weird, there were several people in the room --pregnant and not pregnant (including my sister who was with me) who took it, too. They all seemed to understand what to do.
Then I'm in this suite type room waiting to be taken back to test and suddenly all of my family barges in and starts to be really obnoxious and very rude. I'm getting frustrated that I still don't know what tests they're going to run. My family thinks I'm being totally unreasonable--partying it up while I'm trying to calm down and wait to be tested.
Analysis:
- Girl at front desk = I don't feel like I have a clear understanding of where my prenatal care is headed. I mean, I always know when my next appointment will be and what we'll do, but I don't have an overall "big picture" laid out.
- Testing = I'm still not 100% sure what they're actually testing during bloodwork, paps, urine, etc. And I have a growing fear of unnecessary testing and interventions.
- My family being whack jobs = We are talking about our birth plan and who we want to have there. I feel like I'd like it to just be me and DH, but my mom really wants to be there--and she knows a ton about childbirth. But she can certainly grate on my nerves and sometimes I feel like she tries to claim childbirth as "her thing," which makes me want to invite DH's parents so that they can share in it too (*IF* they want to). This also complicates things because my mom and my dad can't really be in the same room together. Anyway. This is another story for another day and one that I suspect you'll be hearing more on soon.
xoxo,
MSC
Then I go into this room where these weird testing machines drop down from the ceiling and when I light blinked, you had to click the corresponding lever to test your vision and reaction time. Only they didn't tell me that was what the test was, so I didn't understand what I was supposed to do. And to make this test even more weird, there were several people in the room --pregnant and not pregnant (including my sister who was with me) who took it, too. They all seemed to understand what to do.
Then I'm in this suite type room waiting to be taken back to test and suddenly all of my family barges in and starts to be really obnoxious and very rude. I'm getting frustrated that I still don't know what tests they're going to run. My family thinks I'm being totally unreasonable--partying it up while I'm trying to calm down and wait to be tested.
Analysis:
- Girl at front desk = I don't feel like I have a clear understanding of where my prenatal care is headed. I mean, I always know when my next appointment will be and what we'll do, but I don't have an overall "big picture" laid out.
- Testing = I'm still not 100% sure what they're actually testing during bloodwork, paps, urine, etc. And I have a growing fear of unnecessary testing and interventions.
- My family being whack jobs = We are talking about our birth plan and who we want to have there. I feel like I'd like it to just be me and DH, but my mom really wants to be there--and she knows a ton about childbirth. But she can certainly grate on my nerves and sometimes I feel like she tries to claim childbirth as "her thing," which makes me want to invite DH's parents so that they can share in it too (*IF* they want to). This also complicates things because my mom and my dad can't really be in the same room together. Anyway. This is another story for another day and one that I suspect you'll be hearing more on soon.
xoxo,
MSC
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