During the fall of 2013, the American College of Obstetrics and Gynecologists narrowed the definition of "full term" for pregnancy.
Previously, a baby was considered full term if he or she was born between 37 weeks 0 days and 42 weeks 0 days.
The new parameters are narrower and include "early term" and "late term".
Full term is now considered to be 39 weeks 0 days until 40 weeks 6 days. A baby born between 37+0 and 38+6 would be considered early term and those born in week 41+0 to 41+6 would be late term. Any baby born after 42+0 is considered post term.
You can read more about the changes here.
Under this definition, both of my daughters were born early term and Dash will be joining them with that distinction.
I have one more full day of being pregnant and then it's time to encourage this little lady to exit her bath and begin life outside the womb, where my fears will be her catching the awful flu that's going around instead of our placenta deciding it's completely done and not giving us enough warning.
I've had a lot on my mind the last few days and so has my husband. I know he's been experiencing some significant levels of apprehension regarding the birth of our daughter and what that means for us as a family.
On Sunday, he saw something that set all those nerves aside and put a warmth in his heart that was much needed. Sitting several rows in front of us, but within our sight at church, was a father my husband has known for 20 years (although the man was only about 12 years old when they met). This father was holding his adorable sleeping baby girl, who was born about a month and a half ago.
The sight reminded my husband of one reason why we spent so much money and emotional effort in trying to bring a third child into our family.
LOVE
We don't know this little girl very well yet, but we love her with all of hearts and in a matter of hours we'll be able to share that love with her and her big sisters.
Yes, I am to the point where I am counting down the hours until her arrival (give or take a few!)
As children, both my husband and I were raised in families that followed the teachings of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. We grew up and eventually we each made the decision that we believed the teachings.
One of the aspects of our youth that we both treasure has always been the start of the school year, when our father's would give us Priesthood Blessings. Blessings can be given for any number of reasons, but preparing for big changes is absolutely one of them!
It was in a blessing before the school year started in 2012 that we were given a sort of warning that my pregnancy wouldn't end well.
We took advantage of the time we had on Sunday and each of us girls were given a blessing from my husband. Our daughters have been experiencing a variety of emotions with the upcoming changes and their father was able to address those and to give them inspired guidance or counsel on how to handle the new roles they will each be taking on.
My blessing is something that I'll remember for the rest of my life, but it isn't something I want to explain at length here because it was a truly sacred experience. I think the blessing caught both my husband and myself off-guard in a truly wonderful way.
The next blessing he'll give will likely be the "name and a blessing" traditionally given to new babies. I discussed my feelings on this in a previous blog post but as a quick reminder, I don't like them to be public and my experiences of late have only solidified my desire to keep those in attendance very small.
But before that can happen, our little girl needs to arrive safe and sound. So here we go!!
(Picture to be added later)
Showing posts with label pregnancy after stillbirth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pregnancy after stillbirth. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
Wednesday, January 14, 2015
36 Weeks and PDB
We've made it. I am having a hard time believing it, but we've made it to 36 weeks!
Saturday we picked up the missing screws to the crib at Home Depot and right as I was dumping the first opened package into my palm, our 8 year old came into the room with the bag of missing bolts. Ha! They were in the very bottom of the smaller toolbox, probably the one place we hadn't searched already.
I'll be able to return the other 3 packages, but will just keep the ones I opened around the house since they're actually a pretty useful size.
So here I am.
I am PDB. Pretty Darn Big.
But not huge. I have a hard time imagining ever going past 40 weeks, not just because I've never done it but because my babies like to engage in the pelvis weeks before they deliver and that makes movement a lot more difficult than when they're still floating up in the uterus.
I could tell when Dash had engaged because I went from being able to bend over and tie my shoes to doing some seriously bizarre looking maneuvers to get my shoes on, much less tied!
I don't feel all that big when I look down at my tummy when I'm sitting or standing, but when I see it in the mirror and in photos or when I'm trying to roll over at night, it appears to double in size.
But I love it. I love feeling all those kicks and squirms. I love the contractions, too. I won't love them so much next week, but for now I know they're preparing my body for what's coming and that is of great comfort to me.
If it wasn't so stinkin' cold outside, I go for a long walk everyday since walking clearly triggers more contractions, and better yet, they're the kind that I can feel way down low, which I'll need to deliver this little miracle.
Tomorrow I have my last two appointments. It will make for a busy day, but I'm very excited to see my little girl on the inside one last time before I get to hold her.
One week from tomorrow, I will get to hold this little miracle and then share her with her father. And when we're ready, we'll share her with the rest of you, too.
Saturday we picked up the missing screws to the crib at Home Depot and right as I was dumping the first opened package into my palm, our 8 year old came into the room with the bag of missing bolts. Ha! They were in the very bottom of the smaller toolbox, probably the one place we hadn't searched already.
I'll be able to return the other 3 packages, but will just keep the ones I opened around the house since they're actually a pretty useful size.
So here I am.
I am PDB. Pretty Darn Big.
But not huge. I have a hard time imagining ever going past 40 weeks, not just because I've never done it but because my babies like to engage in the pelvis weeks before they deliver and that makes movement a lot more difficult than when they're still floating up in the uterus.
I could tell when Dash had engaged because I went from being able to bend over and tie my shoes to doing some seriously bizarre looking maneuvers to get my shoes on, much less tied!
I don't feel all that big when I look down at my tummy when I'm sitting or standing, but when I see it in the mirror and in photos or when I'm trying to roll over at night, it appears to double in size.
But I love it. I love feeling all those kicks and squirms. I love the contractions, too. I won't love them so much next week, but for now I know they're preparing my body for what's coming and that is of great comfort to me.
If it wasn't so stinkin' cold outside, I go for a long walk everyday since walking clearly triggers more contractions, and better yet, they're the kind that I can feel way down low, which I'll need to deliver this little miracle.
Tomorrow I have my last two appointments. It will make for a busy day, but I'm very excited to see my little girl on the inside one last time before I get to hold her.
One week from tomorrow, I will get to hold this little miracle and then share her with her father. And when we're ready, we'll share her with the rest of you, too.
Thursday, January 8, 2015
35 Weeks and Shoveling Snow
We've had a cold few days here in Northern Virginia!
This morning the "Real Feel" temperature was about 6 below zero. And that's Fahrenheit, not Celsius.
On Tuesday, just over 4" of snow fell and I decided that shoveling a little snow and clearing off the van would be good for me. The snow was a super light, fine powder and that made it very easy to shovel. In the back of my mind I was hoping the exercise would help with bringing on contractions, but it didn't do a thing while I was shoveling!
I stopped every few minutes to do a quick check for my pulse and baby movement and everything stayed in balance nicely.
While I shoveled, the 4 older children also played in the snow and the two infants slept all snuggled up in the stroller. It made for a very fun morning!
By evening, contractions kicked in!! So although the shoveling had a delayed response, it did what I'd hoped it would do. It feels like Dash is sitting even lower now--if that's even possible--and some of my contractions can also be felt in my cervix, which in the long run are the most important kind because those are the kind that will bring Dash into the world in a couple of weeks.
Our street was a giant sheet of ice yesterday, so my husband chose to stay home, especially since my contractions had been so intense the night before. This allowed me to easily get my final anti-Xa test done (he drove and stayed in the car with the kids while I ran in quickly for the blood draw) and to get a few bins of baby clothes sorted during naptime. We also decided to put the crib together and I'm very glad we chose to do that! It turns out we're missing 12 short bolts so we'll need to make a trip to Home Depot to get them before we finish the assembly.
We'd also forgotten just how big a traditional crib was. I think we had both become accustomed to the dimensions of the port-a-cribs I use for the daycare children. We'll need to do a little furniture do-si-do once I finish sorting the bins and putting clothes and diapers away.
Almost all of the clothes for the first few months are borrowed and I'm so grateful for those who've so generously allowed us to borrow them. Our budget has become tighter than it's been in a long time due to my reduced workload and clothing can be really expensive, which hardly seems worth it when babies stay that small for so long! There are only two things that I know we'll need to buy still: a small garbage can with a lid to use as a diaper pail and a changing pad.
I've also been sewing some postpartum supplies and I'm almost done with those as well. The finished products may not be perfectly sewn, but they are very functional and I'm looking forward to avoiding the chemical ridden supplies the vast majority of women in the U.S. use!
I still need to sew some breastpads, but those will be very quick and I don't need too many of them if my past experiences are anything I can trust this time around, too.
Two weeks. . . just 14 days from today . . . and I'll be at the Birthing Inn, preparing to hold my little Rainbow Dash!
(You know, that silly plunger has been in the background of all these photos and the silliest part? We don't even need it! We replaced that toilet a couple of years ago and haven't even come close to needing a plunger since! Maybe by next week I'll have removed it from the bathroom??)
This morning the "Real Feel" temperature was about 6 below zero. And that's Fahrenheit, not Celsius.
On Tuesday, just over 4" of snow fell and I decided that shoveling a little snow and clearing off the van would be good for me. The snow was a super light, fine powder and that made it very easy to shovel. In the back of my mind I was hoping the exercise would help with bringing on contractions, but it didn't do a thing while I was shoveling!
I stopped every few minutes to do a quick check for my pulse and baby movement and everything stayed in balance nicely.
While I shoveled, the 4 older children also played in the snow and the two infants slept all snuggled up in the stroller. It made for a very fun morning!
By evening, contractions kicked in!! So although the shoveling had a delayed response, it did what I'd hoped it would do. It feels like Dash is sitting even lower now--if that's even possible--and some of my contractions can also be felt in my cervix, which in the long run are the most important kind because those are the kind that will bring Dash into the world in a couple of weeks.
Our street was a giant sheet of ice yesterday, so my husband chose to stay home, especially since my contractions had been so intense the night before. This allowed me to easily get my final anti-Xa test done (he drove and stayed in the car with the kids while I ran in quickly for the blood draw) and to get a few bins of baby clothes sorted during naptime. We also decided to put the crib together and I'm very glad we chose to do that! It turns out we're missing 12 short bolts so we'll need to make a trip to Home Depot to get them before we finish the assembly.
We'd also forgotten just how big a traditional crib was. I think we had both become accustomed to the dimensions of the port-a-cribs I use for the daycare children. We'll need to do a little furniture do-si-do once I finish sorting the bins and putting clothes and diapers away.
Almost all of the clothes for the first few months are borrowed and I'm so grateful for those who've so generously allowed us to borrow them. Our budget has become tighter than it's been in a long time due to my reduced workload and clothing can be really expensive, which hardly seems worth it when babies stay that small for so long! There are only two things that I know we'll need to buy still: a small garbage can with a lid to use as a diaper pail and a changing pad.
I've also been sewing some postpartum supplies and I'm almost done with those as well. The finished products may not be perfectly sewn, but they are very functional and I'm looking forward to avoiding the chemical ridden supplies the vast majority of women in the U.S. use!
I still need to sew some breastpads, but those will be very quick and I don't need too many of them if my past experiences are anything I can trust this time around, too.
Two weeks. . . just 14 days from today . . . and I'll be at the Birthing Inn, preparing to hold my little Rainbow Dash!
 |
| 35 Weeks |
(You know, that silly plunger has been in the background of all these photos and the silliest part? We don't even need it! We replaced that toilet a couple of years ago and haven't even come close to needing a plunger since! Maybe by next week I'll have removed it from the bathroom??)
Tuesday, December 16, 2014
32 Weeks and Confessions about Collections
Dash and I have made it another week. We're down to 37 days until our birthing day and I'm both petrified and excited. I am so very ready to hold my little girl but that also means not being pregnant anymore.
As miserable as pregnancy can be for many women, I don't get sick, I can still bend down to tie my shoes, I did 45 minutes of yoga last night without breaking a sweat, and there's something truly amazing about both feeling and watching her dance within me.
I love being pregnant.
When I can set aside the anxiety, the pain from my injections, and just enjoy the moments, there's something very powerful about growing a baby. Perhaps this is a little sacrilegious, but as powerful as God is, he can't do this one thing and so he has gifted his daughters with the responsibility of growing life. He relies on us to provide bodies for his children. Without us, the Plan of Salvation, of eternal families, falls flat on its face. I feel trusted when I'm pregnant. Valued. Powerful. My body is a sacred place, a temple that houses the spirit of one of God's children.
And perhaps that's why battling infertility and pregnancy loss has been so hard. I took it rather personally that my Father in Heaven didn't trust me to raise those babies. I felt unworthy. Broken. I had done something to deserve what had happened.
I know my Father in Heaven doesn't work that way when it comes to creating life, but knowledge doesn't always remove the pain, much like healing doesn't remove scars.
These may be the last 37 days that I'll ever be pregnant. My husband and I are open to having another baby, but being open to the idea doesn't mean that it will happen.
I'm not like the woman in my Lovenox group who, at 8 weeks postpartum from her 6th baby has found out she's now pregnant with her 7th.
I have 37 days left to enjoy those kicks and wiggles, the hiccups, the twists, and the stretching. Just 37 days to be her whole world, her temple.
In 37 days, my role transforms from one of creator to something new. Something different.
In 37 days, I am no longer the womb from which she relies on for life.
I am her mother.
I don't believe you have to give birth to be a mother, and I would think that any woman who has ever held a life in her body and lost it as well as any mother through adoption would understand what I'm trying to say (and probably failing miserably at!)
And in that 37 days, I have to get my *#&$^% together.
Confession time: My hospital bills from Jackson's stillbirth and the car accident later that week went to collections months ago.
Why? Because when it comes right down to it, who wants to deal with that kind of crap when in the throws of grief and then anxiety?
Nobody.
Some Most people are probably able to realize that not paying bills leads to collections, but even knowing that, I didn't get them paid. I couldn't pay them.
Did I have the money? Absolutely.
The time? Definitely.
The energy to write the dang check? Yup.
The emotional wherewithal? NO.
The car accident bills should have been taken care of by the responsible party's insurance company but that hasn't happened yet.
My bill hasn't been paid because, somehow, paying it seemed wrong. I mentioned months ago that the hospital incorrectly billed my insurance company for a semi-private room; a room I never occupied. I went straight from labor and delivery to my home.
Today, over 9 months after those bills were acquired, I made what I hope is the second and last phone call regarding those bills.
Both bills have been removed from collections and are back "in-house" while the billing department at the hospital reviews my medical records to confirm that I did indeed get discharged straight from labor and delivery and while the insurance company continues to work through the medical billing mess on their end.
I will still have to pay my co-pay for Jackson's birth, but at least this time I'll feel like I'm paying the right bill and not just whatever the hospital billing department thought I should have paid because they assumed I went home with a baby.
Perhaps, if I am very lucky, I can pay for Dash's co-pay at the same time as Jackson's. It will feel a lot less painful that way--like something that went very very wrong has, in some small way, been righted.
In 37 days, everything changes: our Rainbow Dash will be here.
#DashDays
As miserable as pregnancy can be for many women, I don't get sick, I can still bend down to tie my shoes, I did 45 minutes of yoga last night without breaking a sweat, and there's something truly amazing about both feeling and watching her dance within me.
I love being pregnant.
When I can set aside the anxiety, the pain from my injections, and just enjoy the moments, there's something very powerful about growing a baby. Perhaps this is a little sacrilegious, but as powerful as God is, he can't do this one thing and so he has gifted his daughters with the responsibility of growing life. He relies on us to provide bodies for his children. Without us, the Plan of Salvation, of eternal families, falls flat on its face. I feel trusted when I'm pregnant. Valued. Powerful. My body is a sacred place, a temple that houses the spirit of one of God's children.
And perhaps that's why battling infertility and pregnancy loss has been so hard. I took it rather personally that my Father in Heaven didn't trust me to raise those babies. I felt unworthy. Broken. I had done something to deserve what had happened.
I know my Father in Heaven doesn't work that way when it comes to creating life, but knowledge doesn't always remove the pain, much like healing doesn't remove scars.
These may be the last 37 days that I'll ever be pregnant. My husband and I are open to having another baby, but being open to the idea doesn't mean that it will happen.
I'm not like the woman in my Lovenox group who, at 8 weeks postpartum from her 6th baby has found out she's now pregnant with her 7th.
I have 37 days left to enjoy those kicks and wiggles, the hiccups, the twists, and the stretching. Just 37 days to be her whole world, her temple.
In 37 days, my role transforms from one of creator to something new. Something different.
In 37 days, I am no longer the womb from which she relies on for life.
I am her mother.
I don't believe you have to give birth to be a mother, and I would think that any woman who has ever held a life in her body and lost it as well as any mother through adoption would understand what I'm trying to say (and probably failing miserably at!)
And in that 37 days, I have to get my *#&$^% together.
Confession time: My hospital bills from Jackson's stillbirth and the car accident later that week went to collections months ago.
Why? Because when it comes right down to it, who wants to deal with that kind of crap when in the throws of grief and then anxiety?
Nobody.
Did I have the money? Absolutely.
The time? Definitely.
The energy to write the dang check? Yup.
The emotional wherewithal? NO.
The car accident bills should have been taken care of by the responsible party's insurance company but that hasn't happened yet.
My bill hasn't been paid because, somehow, paying it seemed wrong. I mentioned months ago that the hospital incorrectly billed my insurance company for a semi-private room; a room I never occupied. I went straight from labor and delivery to my home.
Today, over 9 months after those bills were acquired, I made what I hope is the second and last phone call regarding those bills.
Both bills have been removed from collections and are back "in-house" while the billing department at the hospital reviews my medical records to confirm that I did indeed get discharged straight from labor and delivery and while the insurance company continues to work through the medical billing mess on their end.
I will still have to pay my co-pay for Jackson's birth, but at least this time I'll feel like I'm paying the right bill and not just whatever the hospital billing department thought I should have paid because they assumed I went home with a baby.
Perhaps, if I am very lucky, I can pay for Dash's co-pay at the same time as Jackson's. It will feel a lot less painful that way--like something that went very very wrong has, in some small way, been righted.
In 37 days, everything changes: our Rainbow Dash will be here.
#DashDays
Monday, December 1, 2014
My Birth Plan
For those uninitiated in taking control of their birthing options, many first time moms and experienced moms create a birth plan, or a list of their preferences for their birthing experience.
The birth plan can contain information on pain management, infant care, words or phrases for the nursing staff to avoid using, and other things that the mother feels is important.
Although I have never made a formal birth plan, I have always discussed my plans with my husband and my mother so that both were aware of my preferences.
This time around, my medical and mental condition is very different than with my last live birth and I am making a formal birth plan to take with me to the hospital when it comes time to deliver Dash. I don't want something to be forgotten, since my mom is no longer there to pipe up with my opinion if I flustered along the way and because I hope to do things differently than with my other live births. My husband and I have talked about these and he understands my reasons for the changes, but I don't want something to be forgotten, so I'm writing them down.
Each item on my plan is dependent on Dash's intended live birth, as a stillbirth would change several of these.
I am attempting to do a natural childbirth, or as close to one as I can manage, knowing that my labor will likely need to be induced with pitocin. Once labor begins, there's a good chance that the pitocin can be turned off if my past experience is any indicator, since I've had that happen in the past.
The reasons for the natural birth are based on two things: a strong desire to see if my body can do something right and because I'm hoping to stay on lovenox until delivery and with twice daily dosing, it may well be 12-24 hours after labor begins until I'd even be allowed an epidural. As an anticoagulant, lovenox can cause very serious problems with an epidural, so a full 24 hours after the last dose must pass before an anesthesiologist will administer the medication.
My first and second labors were roughly 13 hours and 10 hours respectively, My third labor, the stillbirth of our son, was started entirely from scratch and took under 8 hours, so I want to be prepared, because I may not have a choice on the epidural even if I change my mind!
Birth Plan
The birth plan can contain information on pain management, infant care, words or phrases for the nursing staff to avoid using, and other things that the mother feels is important.
Although I have never made a formal birth plan, I have always discussed my plans with my husband and my mother so that both were aware of my preferences.
This time around, my medical and mental condition is very different than with my last live birth and I am making a formal birth plan to take with me to the hospital when it comes time to deliver Dash. I don't want something to be forgotten, since my mom is no longer there to pipe up with my opinion if I flustered along the way and because I hope to do things differently than with my other live births. My husband and I have talked about these and he understands my reasons for the changes, but I don't want something to be forgotten, so I'm writing them down.
Each item on my plan is dependent on Dash's intended live birth, as a stillbirth would change several of these.
I am attempting to do a natural childbirth, or as close to one as I can manage, knowing that my labor will likely need to be induced with pitocin. Once labor begins, there's a good chance that the pitocin can be turned off if my past experience is any indicator, since I've had that happen in the past.
The reasons for the natural birth are based on two things: a strong desire to see if my body can do something right and because I'm hoping to stay on lovenox until delivery and with twice daily dosing, it may well be 12-24 hours after labor begins until I'd even be allowed an epidural. As an anticoagulant, lovenox can cause very serious problems with an epidural, so a full 24 hours after the last dose must pass before an anesthesiologist will administer the medication.
My first and second labors were roughly 13 hours and 10 hours respectively, My third labor, the stillbirth of our son, was started entirely from scratch and took under 8 hours, so I want to be prepared, because I may not have a choice on the epidural even if I change my mind!
Birth Plan
- My son was stillborn in March. This birth is emotional for me. Be HONEST.
- Do not offer pain meds
- Do not check my cervix unless I request it.
- Wireless monitoring, with intent to use the tub and allow me to walk/move
- Hold baby immediately after birth, allowing her to nurse if she wants
- Delayed cord clamping, prefer to wait until placenta delivers
- NO antibiotic eye ointment
- Vitamin K and heel prick: YES
- Vaccines: NO
- Cloth diapers ONLY
- Placenta will be encapsulated
Many women write out long, detailed versions in paragraph form, but I prefer something short because I think it'll be easier to follow this way. I imagine that nurses just don't want to read 3 pages of birth plans for every patient they see each day and even if they did, remembering everything wouldn't be easy. This list has 11 items on it and can easily fit on one page in large print for every person that walks into my delivery room to see.
There are additional items that women delivering in other hospitals would need to consider. Such things would include specifics on the use of pacifiers, the use of formula, when to bathe the baby, and preferences for rooming in or time in the newborn nursery.
The hospital I'm delivering at already has those policies in place, and they are all policies that are in line with my preferences, so I feel it isn't necessary for me to include them in my birth plan. Why add to the list if it's already policy, right?
A few of the items on the list are absolutely non-negotiable, such as the vaccines, eye goop, and cloth diapers. In the event that something goes badly, I know I will have to adjust my plan. For example, if my daughter's heart beat suddenly goes crashing and doesn't come back up, I know I'm in for an emergency c-section that will require general anesthesia if I haven't had an epidural. This would also mean I don't get to hold Dash right after birth, the cord clamping would likely not be delayed by very much, and nursing would be forced to wait a little, too. I can roll with the punches if needed, but I hope this birth is as smooth as each of my others has been.
Now, if I could just get this little girl to keep her head down, I'd feel a whole lot better about this plan!
There are additional items that women delivering in other hospitals would need to consider. Such things would include specifics on the use of pacifiers, the use of formula, when to bathe the baby, and preferences for rooming in or time in the newborn nursery.
The hospital I'm delivering at already has those policies in place, and they are all policies that are in line with my preferences, so I feel it isn't necessary for me to include them in my birth plan. Why add to the list if it's already policy, right?
A few of the items on the list are absolutely non-negotiable, such as the vaccines, eye goop, and cloth diapers. In the event that something goes badly, I know I will have to adjust my plan. For example, if my daughter's heart beat suddenly goes crashing and doesn't come back up, I know I'm in for an emergency c-section that will require general anesthesia if I haven't had an epidural. This would also mean I don't get to hold Dash right after birth, the cord clamping would likely not be delayed by very much, and nursing would be forced to wait a little, too. I can roll with the punches if needed, but I hope this birth is as smooth as each of my others has been.
Now, if I could just get this little girl to keep her head down, I'd feel a whole lot better about this plan!
Tuesday, November 25, 2014
29 Weeks
Dash and I have officially made it to 29 weeks. This is sort of the magic window where our baby could arrive and her chances of having no long term problems from a premature delivery are in our favor.
I feel like saying, "Phew!" but I can't quite do that yet.
Yesterday afternoon, starting around 3:30, it felt like all heck broke loose in my body. I started having some pretty crazy contractions that were coming every 5-10 minutes, even when I sat down, and they were the kind that stop you in your tracks because you can't move. Sitting for long wasn't much of an option to try and get them to calm down, since I still had 3 daycare children in my home and those infants don't exactly feed themselves (yet!)
By the time work finished, my oldest daughter had a piano lesson scheduled, and I knew I could send my husband for fast food for him and both of our daughters, but that seemed horribly unfair to me because it meant I'd be the one left opening a box of organic black bean soup while they got burgers and fries.
I love fries. No ketchup--just plenty of salt and that crispy, soft combination that makes my mouth water.
I can't have fries right now, so the thought of letting them eat what I couldn't have while I was already feeling miserable just didn't appeal to me in the slightest.
So I grabbed my water bottle and got to work on the dinner I'd been looking forward to, knowing that I might just have to bail on it part way through anyway.
With the exception of the crust, I made a completely-from-scratch chicken pot pie for dinner last night. It was heavenly!! And I managed to get it all done without feeling like I'd seriously overdone myself, although it was close.
My husband was beyond shocked later that evening to find out that I hadn't used any canned soups to make the sauce, which also meant that the meal was much healthier than he'd thought and he could feel less guilty about stuffing himself so badly. Chicken, chicken stock, lots and lots of veggies, no potatoes since I'm not allowed, some seasonings, and flour as the thickening agent . . . simple and divine.
The girls and I did pigged out, too. I made a huge pie and the entire thing was gone before we got up from the table.
I hadn't expected that, but it also means I know exactly what to do with some of the leftover turkey meat after Thanksgiving in a couple of days. I have another set of pie crusts and will be using them to make a turkey pot pie to stick in the freezer for a meal sometime in the coming weeks.
The best part about the chicken or turkey pot pies is that as long as I skip the crust, which is easy enough for me to do, they're pretty close to dairy free and contain no whole grains, the two items my other daughters had problems with when nursing. So if the pot pie stays in the freezer for a couple of months, I still have an easy meal that I won't need to worry about breastmilk sensitivities with.
When it comes to sensitivities, my lovenox injections sure are giving me a run for my money these days. I'm not exactly sure why, but I'm getting hard lumps under almost all of them now and many are bruising pretty badly again. I suspect the lumps may be related to the colder temperature in the house, and thus the cooler temp of my fingers and skin, but I can't be sure.
You can't see the lumps in the photos, but you can see the bruising. These were taken tonight. They aren't the clearest photos in the world because my nice point-n-shoot camera had an unfortunate accident while we were in Tennessee and my 4 year old dropped it at the Hard Rock Cafe. . .
For clarification, none of the spots are moles. Instead, they're the pinpricks sometimes leftover from the injection. The rules for my shots include the following:
It doesn't take a rocket scientist to realize that with all the extra bruising and lumping, I'm rapidly running out of locations to inject!
In the top picture, you may be able to see a darker bruise close to the waist on my pants. I used that spot in sheer desperation, knowing that the lower areas bruise, lump and hurt much worse than the ones above my belly button. The injection doesn't hurt going in, but the bruise is tender for several days. That particular shot was done Saturday night, so it's already 3 days old and looks as fresh as if it had been done this morning.
I will add that Dr. H had me get a cream that helps with bruising called Arnicare, and it really does speed up the healing when I remember to use it! The Arnicare also smells really nice. It's classified as unscented so the smell is likely from the Arnica montana, which is the active ingredient. The cream is also paraben free, which makes me happy!
My husband and I are also making some progress on a name for Dash. We certainly haven't settled on one, but we have some parameters that we agree on and it's helping.
If I have another few nights like last night, we'll need that name ready much sooner than Christmas, which is only 31 days away!
In the meantime, I need to remember to drink, drink, drink my water and not let time go by while I'm busy at work.
I feel like saying, "Phew!" but I can't quite do that yet.
Yesterday afternoon, starting around 3:30, it felt like all heck broke loose in my body. I started having some pretty crazy contractions that were coming every 5-10 minutes, even when I sat down, and they were the kind that stop you in your tracks because you can't move. Sitting for long wasn't much of an option to try and get them to calm down, since I still had 3 daycare children in my home and those infants don't exactly feed themselves (yet!)
By the time work finished, my oldest daughter had a piano lesson scheduled, and I knew I could send my husband for fast food for him and both of our daughters, but that seemed horribly unfair to me because it meant I'd be the one left opening a box of organic black bean soup while they got burgers and fries.
I love fries. No ketchup--just plenty of salt and that crispy, soft combination that makes my mouth water.
I can't have fries right now, so the thought of letting them eat what I couldn't have while I was already feeling miserable just didn't appeal to me in the slightest.
So I grabbed my water bottle and got to work on the dinner I'd been looking forward to, knowing that I might just have to bail on it part way through anyway.
With the exception of the crust, I made a completely-from-scratch chicken pot pie for dinner last night. It was heavenly!! And I managed to get it all done without feeling like I'd seriously overdone myself, although it was close.
My husband was beyond shocked later that evening to find out that I hadn't used any canned soups to make the sauce, which also meant that the meal was much healthier than he'd thought and he could feel less guilty about stuffing himself so badly. Chicken, chicken stock, lots and lots of veggies, no potatoes since I'm not allowed, some seasonings, and flour as the thickening agent . . . simple and divine.
The girls and I did pigged out, too. I made a huge pie and the entire thing was gone before we got up from the table.
I hadn't expected that, but it also means I know exactly what to do with some of the leftover turkey meat after Thanksgiving in a couple of days. I have another set of pie crusts and will be using them to make a turkey pot pie to stick in the freezer for a meal sometime in the coming weeks.
The best part about the chicken or turkey pot pies is that as long as I skip the crust, which is easy enough for me to do, they're pretty close to dairy free and contain no whole grains, the two items my other daughters had problems with when nursing. So if the pot pie stays in the freezer for a couple of months, I still have an easy meal that I won't need to worry about breastmilk sensitivities with.
When it comes to sensitivities, my lovenox injections sure are giving me a run for my money these days. I'm not exactly sure why, but I'm getting hard lumps under almost all of them now and many are bruising pretty badly again. I suspect the lumps may be related to the colder temperature in the house, and thus the cooler temp of my fingers and skin, but I can't be sure.
You can't see the lumps in the photos, but you can see the bruising. These were taken tonight. They aren't the clearest photos in the world because my nice point-n-shoot camera had an unfortunate accident while we were in Tennessee and my 4 year old dropped it at the Hard Rock Cafe. . .
For clarification, none of the spots are moles. Instead, they're the pinpricks sometimes leftover from the injection. The rules for my shots include the following:
- No injecting into a bruise
- No injecting into a lump
- Must be in the belly or love handles
- Cannot be within 2 inches of the belly button
- Must be able to "pinch and inch" for the injection site but no more, no less
- Use all 4 quadrants of the belly area
It doesn't take a rocket scientist to realize that with all the extra bruising and lumping, I'm rapidly running out of locations to inject!
In the top picture, you may be able to see a darker bruise close to the waist on my pants. I used that spot in sheer desperation, knowing that the lower areas bruise, lump and hurt much worse than the ones above my belly button. The injection doesn't hurt going in, but the bruise is tender for several days. That particular shot was done Saturday night, so it's already 3 days old and looks as fresh as if it had been done this morning.
I will add that Dr. H had me get a cream that helps with bruising called Arnicare, and it really does speed up the healing when I remember to use it! The Arnicare also smells really nice. It's classified as unscented so the smell is likely from the Arnica montana, which is the active ingredient. The cream is also paraben free, which makes me happy!
My husband and I are also making some progress on a name for Dash. We certainly haven't settled on one, but we have some parameters that we agree on and it's helping.
If I have another few nights like last night, we'll need that name ready much sooner than Christmas, which is only 31 days away!
In the meantime, I need to remember to drink, drink, drink my water and not let time go by while I'm busy at work.
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
28 Weeks and Nesting
I'm not entirely sure if it really counts as nesting, but the need to cook and prepare for Dash's arrival has set in.
This need hasn't just set in for me, either. My husband, who has been even more afraid of losing his daughter than I have, is feeling it, too. In fact, on Sunday evening he announced her impending arrival on facebook, which was a big step for him!
He then included one of the 3D pictures of our daughter.
For him, this is a huge step in emotionally preparing for the birth of our daughter. When he posts just about anything, there's a reason for it. Generally, his posts are Civil War anniversary snip-its or links that he's sharing that he finds humorous or informative. To share something as near and dear to his heart as my pregnancy let me know that he's as ready as he'll ever be.
But we still don't have a name!!
My sewing materials are almost completely relocated to the basement. There are just a few odds and ends left as well as my serger, which I'll move down as soon as I have the space for it. Anyone who has ever "moved" within their own home knows that sometimes you have to make a really big mess before everything comes together. We're past the worst of the mess, but I have one more shelf to install and then I can move the last few fabric bins into position.
And the diaper sewing will begin once that is done!
I have 2 days to get this done. Why? Well, Saturday the weather is supposed to be decent, so we're going to the storage unit to get all the boxes and bins of Christmas stuff. In order to make room for that, the crib needs to be in the baby's room, rather than disassembled and taking up space under the stairs.
My husband insists that the Christmas things will stay in their boxes until after Thanksgiving, but if I just happen to find space to put the tree up . . .well . . . it might just make it's way out of the box a during naptime next week.
I've made some helpful changes in my routine over the last week and feeling the improvement. I purchased a larger yoga ball and inflated it fully. It's just a little big, but as it deflates a little in the next week or two it will be perfect. I'm using the ball to do some of the exercises I do at the chiropractor each visit. One of them does a really good job of stretching my psoas muscles and the impact on the muscles in my abdomen is noticeable! Most evenings, the muscles are still tight, but not anywhere near as painful as they've been the last couple of months. I'm doing the exercise every 4-5 hours during the day and sometimes just sitting on the ball when the tv is on, rocking in an X motion, stretching my back from side to side, or generally staying in movement.
Movement is getting more restricted, but I want to make sure that as many of my muscles are limber as possible so that I can achieve any position I want during labor and delivery. The most restrictive motion right now is bending over, which is understandable considering the size of my belly. If you've ever tried to bend over and tie your shoes with a basketball or soccer ball in front of you, it's not easy! But with the new exercises, I'm finding that I can bend in other ways that compensate for my inability to fold myself in half. I had lost my ability to look fully over my shoulder when backing up my van but realized today as I left Home Depot that I could do it again and that it was quite comfortable, too.
It's amazing how such a simple thing can feel so good! I hate relying on cameras and mirrors when I back-up, so that ability to turn my torso put a big, dopey grin on my face that nobody saw but me!
I could buy the next size up, but maternity clothes are expensive and it just doesn't seem worth it when I can layer things a little.
I don't even want to think about how badly these clothes would fit if I were carrying twins.
I don't remember having this problem with my other daughters, but I was due in July and summer shirts during those years had a longer, blousey cut to them and I wore a lot of summer dresses because they were more comfortable than capris.
If you look closely at the two pictures, you can see the difference in the shape of the top of my belly. The pictures were taken about 15 minutes apart and during that time, she switched from head up (in the black shirt) to head down (in the stripes). Head down is much more comfortable for me and gives me a lot more breathing room!
The only other "noteworthy" mention would be my contractions, which have absolutely picked up in the last 4 days. Oh My Word. I'm having over a dozen a day and some are enough to have me running some of my hypnobabies phrases through my head because I simply can't do anything else until it subsides. These are normal for me and should make my labor easier, or at least the induction portion.
So here's to a few more weeks, we hope!
This need hasn't just set in for me, either. My husband, who has been even more afraid of losing his daughter than I have, is feeling it, too. In fact, on Sunday evening he announced her impending arrival on facebook, which was a big step for him!
Many of you know that Talia and I lost our stillborn son this past March, after several years of setbacks and discouragement in growing our family. While she has been relatively open about events in the months since, I have been much more circumspect. But things have been humming along and we are reaching "safe" ground, so it is with tremendous happiness and excitement that I acknowledge that we're about two months out from welcoming a baby girl.— feeling blessed.
He then included one of the 3D pictures of our daughter.
For him, this is a huge step in emotionally preparing for the birth of our daughter. When he posts just about anything, there's a reason for it. Generally, his posts are Civil War anniversary snip-its or links that he's sharing that he finds humorous or informative. To share something as near and dear to his heart as my pregnancy let me know that he's as ready as he'll ever be.
But we still don't have a name!!
My sewing materials are almost completely relocated to the basement. There are just a few odds and ends left as well as my serger, which I'll move down as soon as I have the space for it. Anyone who has ever "moved" within their own home knows that sometimes you have to make a really big mess before everything comes together. We're past the worst of the mess, but I have one more shelf to install and then I can move the last few fabric bins into position.
And the diaper sewing will begin once that is done!
I have 2 days to get this done. Why? Well, Saturday the weather is supposed to be decent, so we're going to the storage unit to get all the boxes and bins of Christmas stuff. In order to make room for that, the crib needs to be in the baby's room, rather than disassembled and taking up space under the stairs.
My husband insists that the Christmas things will stay in their boxes until after Thanksgiving, but if I just happen to find space to put the tree up . . .well . . . it might just make it's way out of the box a during naptime next week.
I've made some helpful changes in my routine over the last week and feeling the improvement. I purchased a larger yoga ball and inflated it fully. It's just a little big, but as it deflates a little in the next week or two it will be perfect. I'm using the ball to do some of the exercises I do at the chiropractor each visit. One of them does a really good job of stretching my psoas muscles and the impact on the muscles in my abdomen is noticeable! Most evenings, the muscles are still tight, but not anywhere near as painful as they've been the last couple of months. I'm doing the exercise every 4-5 hours during the day and sometimes just sitting on the ball when the tv is on, rocking in an X motion, stretching my back from side to side, or generally staying in movement.
Movement is getting more restricted, but I want to make sure that as many of my muscles are limber as possible so that I can achieve any position I want during labor and delivery. The most restrictive motion right now is bending over, which is understandable considering the size of my belly. If you've ever tried to bend over and tie your shoes with a basketball or soccer ball in front of you, it's not easy! But with the new exercises, I'm finding that I can bend in other ways that compensate for my inability to fold myself in half. I had lost my ability to look fully over my shoulder when backing up my van but realized today as I left Home Depot that I could do it again and that it was quite comfortable, too.
It's amazing how such a simple thing can feel so good! I hate relying on cameras and mirrors when I back-up, so that ability to turn my torso put a big, dopey grin on my face that nobody saw but me!
I was fortunate enough to be given a bunch of maternity clothes, some to keep and some on loan. They fit great, but since my daughters all carry out front, I have hit that point where most of my clothes no longer cover my belly and I'm left with a 2" section where the stretchy part of my pants shows. This striped shirt is one of just a few that stay completely down. The black one below, which is what I was wearing earlier to day, is a prime example of what most of my wardrobe is now doing. It's too short!
I don't even want to think about how badly these clothes would fit if I were carrying twins.
I don't remember having this problem with my other daughters, but I was due in July and summer shirts during those years had a longer, blousey cut to them and I wore a lot of summer dresses because they were more comfortable than capris.
If you look closely at the two pictures, you can see the difference in the shape of the top of my belly. The pictures were taken about 15 minutes apart and during that time, she switched from head up (in the black shirt) to head down (in the stripes). Head down is much more comfortable for me and gives me a lot more breathing room!
The only other "noteworthy" mention would be my contractions, which have absolutely picked up in the last 4 days. Oh My Word. I'm having over a dozen a day and some are enough to have me running some of my hypnobabies phrases through my head because I simply can't do anything else until it subsides. These are normal for me and should make my labor easier, or at least the induction portion.
So here's to a few more weeks, we hope!
Monday, November 10, 2014
Letter To My Unnamed Daughter
Dear Daughter,
Four days ago I saw the first 3D images of your beautiful face. Your oldest sister stood by my side, mirroring the awe I felt at seeing you resting so peacefully against our placenta. I took a picture of the computer screen and emailed it to your father, knowing he'd want to see you. The picture wasn't very clear, but we could see your delicate features in a way we hadn't been able to see before.
Your father and I are having a tough time coming up with a name for you. Both of your older sisters have names that are found within our ancestry. Your oldest sister shares the name of her great-great-aunt from my side of the family and your other sister's name is the same as a 3rd great-aunt from your father's side.
I'd like to choose another family name; one that suits you. We have called you Dash for about 5 months now, but that's not a name we want to use as your legal name, even if we do continue to call you Dash for years to come.
This may come as a surprise, but I didn't name your sisters and it looks like I won't be coming up with your legal name, either. Your father named our first daughter and she named her first little sister! I definitely agreed to the names, but they weren't my idea.
There are two names that your father and I are thinking about for you. One is the name of one of my grandmothers and the other is a name your father thought of while we were sitting at Burger King after an appointment a couple weeks ago. I'm not totally in love with either name, but I wasn't totally in love with the name of your oldest sister when it was decided, either.
Names are things that have to grow on me, and that's just how it is. If your father could agree to let me call you Talia, I'd be thrilled. I love my name and wish I could share it with one of my children, but let's face it, our last name makes things a little harder because we don't want rhyming names and I'm not a big fan of alliterations, either.
So for now, you are Dash.
My Dash
My rainbow after years of storms
The answer to thousands of prayers
The reason I can't sleep at night
The reason I can't stop smiling during the day
My Dash
Last night we celebrated your father's birthday with a few of our local relatives. He feels old and a little lost, and I know some of his emotions are being compounded by the stress of our lives this last year. We never thought we'd be in our mid-to-late thirties and still trying to have children, wrestling with a tight budget, and worrying about our heater breaking (yes, ours did that this morning). As you grow up, please be kind to his worrying heart. Remind us with your smile and your hugs that there are more important things in life than how old we feel, how small our house is, and what our yard looks like.
Like your big sisters, you are doomed to watching football for the next 18 years. But if you are lucky, you'll learn to love the sport like they have and we can sit as a family and spend our Friday nights or Saturday afternoons rooting for the underdogs, cheering after an exceptional pass, and getting angry at the refs when they make a ridiculous call or don't call something we think they should have!
You will also watch hours upon hours of science fiction, historical fiction, classics, and documentaries. Your life will be filled with more books than you can imagine, too!
You will spend hours standing near your father's new globe (his present this year!) as he shows you where things are, how the solar system functions, and the places he's lived. When you ask how far away something is, we'll walk to the globe and I'll show you.
You will discuss politics, science, and religion with all of us during trips to the grocery store. You'll learn add and subtract during walks around the pond.
You will know that we love our Heavenly Parents and that we try each day to parents like them. You will see me cry, sometimes because I'm excited or happy, but sometimes they will be tears of frustration or sadness, too.
You will know that before you were conceived, you had a brother who didn't live until his birth. You will hear your big sisters talk about him. His name was Jackson. They miss him. I miss him, too. Sometimes even now as I sit in church, a hymn will be sung that reminds me of him and I will cry and you will see that. Hug me when you see those tears. Remind me that I wouldn't have you if I hadn't lost him.
Ask me questions. Easy questions. Hard questions. Silly questions. I love to teach, but I don't always know where to start. Your questions will give me a starting point. If you don't ask when you are young, I may not know how to answer when you are older.
Trust me. I don't make promises I can't keep. No means no and Yes means yes. Maybe is a toss up, as it's intended to be. I am honest. If you ask me something I don't know, I will let you know that I'm not sure. If something is multi-sided, I'll share my views and ask that you think about them, but encourage you to form an opinion of your own and hope that you'll always be open to changing your opinion as you learn new things.
Learn from the mistakes of those around you and be gentle with them. All of our actions have consequences but some are more obvious or more painful than others. Remember that everyone has been given the right to choose for themselves and sometimes the choices of others will hurt you. Don't let that hurt become hate. Instead, use those experiences to strengthen those around you.
Study the scriptures and the teachings of modern day prophets and apostles. Heavenly Father hasn't put a prophet on the earth now so that we ignore him. He is here to guide us today and what he teaches is more applicable than the prophets who have passed, even recently.
Remember that all church leaders also have the right to choose. They have their own opinions, views, and reasons for doing and saying what they choose. They don't always agree and that is okay. We have been created in the image of our Heavenly Parents, but that doesn't mean we will all think the same. However, each of them, like your father and I, are doing their best to follow the teachings of our Savior so that we can live with him, and with each other, when the time comes.
You have been given an opportunity that many other children are not given. You have a father and mother who are sealed for eternity in a temple of God and who live in a nation filled with freedoms that most of the world cannot even comprehend. The technology that has developed in my life has been amazing and I can only begin to imagine the wonderful things you may see and experience as you grow.
Without modern medicine, you would never have been able to join our family. Someday, I will show you pictures of the bruises from the injections I had to give myself twice a day so that my body would give yours a chance to grow. Those medicines are our lifeline, yours and mine. It is such a simple medication, but without it, you would never have had a chance.
Dash, you are loved more than words can express by your father, your sisters, and me. Don't ever doubt how much we care for you or how often we pray for you. You aren't just our daughter, you are a daughter of God and that will give you more power and strength than anything we could teach you.
We'll try to teach you everything we know so that you can know all the things we've learned.
But first, let's see if we can find a name for you . . .
Tuesday, October 28, 2014
25 Weeks
As I attempted to sleep last night, I realized that most women would reach 25 weeks and think "15 weeks left, give or take a little."
Not me! "I can do another 8 weeks. Come on, body, you can do this!"
And so far, my body and the baby are cooperating, so I'm going to keep thinking positive as best as I can.
Every 3 to 4 nights I have a night where my anxiety really does get to me and before I went to bed last night, I could sense the pending storm. Dash was quiet during the night, but not so quiet as to cause some of the full panic attacks I've had in the past that leave me hurrying downstairs to my rocking chair and doppler for a heartbeat check. I was able to lay in bed and practice my Hypnobabies breathing and an anesthesia technique that allowed me to sleep for what amounted to several 90 minutes stretches.
So it wasn't a great night's sleep by any means, but I made it through with what felt like only a few loose shutters, rather than having my mental home washed out to sea.
My husband and I were both very busy the last two days and I feel like I've barely seen him. I don't like those days very much, especially when they're back-to-back. Tonight we'll have more time together and I'm looking forward to it, even if it will be a busy evening. We meet with our chiropractor again (hallelujah!) and then will be doing dinner at Costco along with gassing up the van and getting a few supplies for an upcoming road trip.
Our daughters are excited about this trip. The youngest keeps trying to compare it to our quick trip to North Carolina back in May, but telling her the drive is twice as long doesn't seem to be settling in for her, and our trip to Palmyra, NY back in July must have felt much shorter to her, since that trip never gets mentioned. Perhaps by the 400th mile she realize that a long trip really does mean long??
Who am I kidding, she'll be asking "Are we there yet?" before our second get-out-and-stretch break.
And in another 8 weeks, friends and family can start asking me something similar: Is Dash here yet??
But until then, the Bump grows so my shirts are getting shorter, the hips are starting to ache at night, and her knees, elbows, and feet are starting to poke in distinct places. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
Not me! "I can do another 8 weeks. Come on, body, you can do this!"
And so far, my body and the baby are cooperating, so I'm going to keep thinking positive as best as I can.
Every 3 to 4 nights I have a night where my anxiety really does get to me and before I went to bed last night, I could sense the pending storm. Dash was quiet during the night, but not so quiet as to cause some of the full panic attacks I've had in the past that leave me hurrying downstairs to my rocking chair and doppler for a heartbeat check. I was able to lay in bed and practice my Hypnobabies breathing and an anesthesia technique that allowed me to sleep for what amounted to several 90 minutes stretches.
So it wasn't a great night's sleep by any means, but I made it through with what felt like only a few loose shutters, rather than having my mental home washed out to sea.
My husband and I were both very busy the last two days and I feel like I've barely seen him. I don't like those days very much, especially when they're back-to-back. Tonight we'll have more time together and I'm looking forward to it, even if it will be a busy evening. We meet with our chiropractor again (hallelujah!) and then will be doing dinner at Costco along with gassing up the van and getting a few supplies for an upcoming road trip.
Our daughters are excited about this trip. The youngest keeps trying to compare it to our quick trip to North Carolina back in May, but telling her the drive is twice as long doesn't seem to be settling in for her, and our trip to Palmyra, NY back in July must have felt much shorter to her, since that trip never gets mentioned. Perhaps by the 400th mile she realize that a long trip really does mean long??
Who am I kidding, she'll be asking "Are we there yet?" before our second get-out-and-stretch break.
And in another 8 weeks, friends and family can start asking me something similar: Is Dash here yet??
But until then, the Bump grows so my shirts are getting shorter, the hips are starting to ache at night, and her knees, elbows, and feet are starting to poke in distinct places. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
Wednesday, October 22, 2014
24 Weeks
Here is my picture from yesterday . . .
Although the growth from week to week doesn't seem very big, if you go back a month or more you can see quite a bit of change.
I am adjusting to the fact that my pregnancy is winding down. My obstetrician informed me on Thursday that "We really only need 4 more weeks." Although having a baby at 28 weeks would mean an extended NICU stay, her chances of growing up healthy are really good thanks to all the improvements in neonatal care.
As much as I can hope to avoid a long hospital stay, it may be unavoidable.
Last night as I spoke to my husband, I confessed that although we always thought of raising 4 children, I'm not entirely sure I can take on the emotional toll of a 9th pregnancy. Monday night I had another anxiety attack. I laid there in bed, willing the baby to move in the hopes that it would calm me down, but it just wasn't happening. I ended up flying out of bed in a rush to just get out of my bedroom so I could focus on my breathing. Generally, once Dash is moving around well I calm right down but in the wee hours of Tuesday morning, that simply wasn't the case. It took over two hours for me to get to the point where I knew I could climb in bed and not disturb my husband with tossing and turning.
I must say I'm looking forward to the normal newborn worries. They feel like a cake-walk compared to what I've been dealing with the last 6 months.
Dash is most certainly growing bigger and stronger. Her kicks are higher and harder and I relish every single one of them. I don't know if she'll get big enough to kick my ribs, but I sure hope so. It hurts like mad but that will mean she's still in me and we're close to full term.
I've continued to do some of the Spinning Babies stretches and am moving through my Hypnobabies materials as well, so preparations for birth are continuing. On Saturday we toured the Birthing Inn, too.
For several months I've had the benefit of knowing I needed to do the tour, so I'd mentally prepared myself for it. Unfortunately, my husband wasn't anywhere near as prepared as I was and his emotions were palpable.
He and I both know we have the option of delivering at any number of hospitals in our extended area, including the one where our second daughter was born. My last experience at the Birthing Inn was obviously a pretty awful one, but my experience with my nurse there was amazing and I want her to help with my rainbow delivery. I know that when it comes right down to it, I'll have more interaction on delivery day with my nurse than with my OB, and Alicia was perfect. I want her there again and she knows that and has let me know that I can contact her when the time comes and she'll do everything she can to be with me.
My husband is coming with me tomorrow for our next growth scan with Dr. H. He hasn't come with me since my anatomy scan, so I'm excited to have him there again. Three weeks ago our little Dash looked so BIG compared to Jackson. It was shocking, actually, so I'm looking forward to the look on his face when he sees just how big our little girl is getting. (I'm assuming/hoping for awesome growth when I make that statement.)
In addition, we'll be asking about our road trip protocol. Yes, we're going on a road trip to the BYU @ MTSU football game while I'm 25 weeks pregnant. That's 631 miles from home. With stops, it will likely take 11 hours.
We need to know the following:
So my dear spouse can get all those answers too, and he'll understand just what is expected and why.
Here's to one more week down, and at least 4 more to go!!
Although the growth from week to week doesn't seem very big, if you go back a month or more you can see quite a bit of change.
I am adjusting to the fact that my pregnancy is winding down. My obstetrician informed me on Thursday that "We really only need 4 more weeks." Although having a baby at 28 weeks would mean an extended NICU stay, her chances of growing up healthy are really good thanks to all the improvements in neonatal care.
As much as I can hope to avoid a long hospital stay, it may be unavoidable.
Last night as I spoke to my husband, I confessed that although we always thought of raising 4 children, I'm not entirely sure I can take on the emotional toll of a 9th pregnancy. Monday night I had another anxiety attack. I laid there in bed, willing the baby to move in the hopes that it would calm me down, but it just wasn't happening. I ended up flying out of bed in a rush to just get out of my bedroom so I could focus on my breathing. Generally, once Dash is moving around well I calm right down but in the wee hours of Tuesday morning, that simply wasn't the case. It took over two hours for me to get to the point where I knew I could climb in bed and not disturb my husband with tossing and turning.
I must say I'm looking forward to the normal newborn worries. They feel like a cake-walk compared to what I've been dealing with the last 6 months.
Dash is most certainly growing bigger and stronger. Her kicks are higher and harder and I relish every single one of them. I don't know if she'll get big enough to kick my ribs, but I sure hope so. It hurts like mad but that will mean she's still in me and we're close to full term.
I've continued to do some of the Spinning Babies stretches and am moving through my Hypnobabies materials as well, so preparations for birth are continuing. On Saturday we toured the Birthing Inn, too.
For several months I've had the benefit of knowing I needed to do the tour, so I'd mentally prepared myself for it. Unfortunately, my husband wasn't anywhere near as prepared as I was and his emotions were palpable.
He and I both know we have the option of delivering at any number of hospitals in our extended area, including the one where our second daughter was born. My last experience at the Birthing Inn was obviously a pretty awful one, but my experience with my nurse there was amazing and I want her to help with my rainbow delivery. I know that when it comes right down to it, I'll have more interaction on delivery day with my nurse than with my OB, and Alicia was perfect. I want her there again and she knows that and has let me know that I can contact her when the time comes and she'll do everything she can to be with me.
My husband is coming with me tomorrow for our next growth scan with Dr. H. He hasn't come with me since my anatomy scan, so I'm excited to have him there again. Three weeks ago our little Dash looked so BIG compared to Jackson. It was shocking, actually, so I'm looking forward to the look on his face when he sees just how big our little girl is getting. (I'm assuming/hoping for awesome growth when I make that statement.)
In addition, we'll be asking about our road trip protocol. Yes, we're going on a road trip to the BYU @ MTSU football game while I'm 25 weeks pregnant. That's 631 miles from home. With stops, it will likely take 11 hours.
We need to know the following:
- Will I need compression stockings?
- How often do we need to stop so I can walk?
- How long should those walks be?
- What should my water consumption be?
- How do we manage our fast food stops? Are some options better than others?
- While at the game, is there anything I need to be cautious about?
- What do we do if something comes up and I need medical help (besides call 911)?
So my dear spouse can get all those answers too, and he'll understand just what is expected and why.
Here's to one more week down, and at least 4 more to go!!
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day
Today is October 15th, International Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day. Around the globe, men and women are lighting candles in honor of their babies.
Katie Allison Granju once wrote of her loss:
A birthday should never come after the day of death.
A widow is someone who has buried their spouse. It means "empty" in Sanskrit. As time continues forward, and with the help of social media, the word "vilomah" is being used to describe us, those who have lost children. It means "against a natural order".
Katie Allison Granju once wrote of her loss:
Until recent times, I believe it was fairly common for parents to bury a child due to illness or stillbirth, but there was no word to describe such a parent. But even if it was common, it still goes against reason. Our children should not precede us in death and our children should have the chance to live their lives outside the womb.Who will I be in the future when the unholy, unbearable pain that now rips and tears at me every waking minute fades into a more chronic, dull, lifetime ache?I know that I will be different — forever. Just … different. I can tell you already that losing my child is an experience so profoundly disorienting that I suddenly feel like a Martian among humans.Yes, I have been rerouted to Mars. And there doesn’t appear to be quite enough air up here.
A birthday should never come after the day of death.
A widow is someone who has buried their spouse. It means "empty" in Sanskrit. As time continues forward, and with the help of social media, the word "vilomah" is being used to describe us, those who have lost children. It means "against a natural order".
I am a vilomah
I wonder about the color of their eyes
I hear the echos of my sobbing
I see their imprint on my life
I want others to know they are not alone
I am a vilomah
I pretend that I am strong
I feel like my pain matters only to those who know it
I touch my belly and remember
I worry that this baby will never see my face
I cry when I think of her lost siblings
I am a vilomah
I understand my past does not predict my future
I say I'm taking things one day at a time
I dream of nursing all my children
I try to remain calm in the face of harsh realities
I hope I can be strong
I am a vilomah
Monday, October 13, 2014
Friendship . . . Or the Post I Have No Idea What to Title
For the last couple of months, this feeling has been stuck in the pit of my stomach and I haven't been able to figure it out.
After conversing briefly with an online friend, I finally realized what it was.
So on top of the anxiety and the fear and the hormones, I realized today that I'm lonely. I hope that if I can number the ways I'm lonely, I can also find a way to reverse some of the causes.
1. Most of the women in my infertility groups have at most one living child. I have 2. And any time I mention either of them, I feel guilty that I've not been content with having the 2 that I have. That I've lost 5 other babies and been on this rollercoaster for over 11 years doesn't seem to weigh as significantly as the knowledge that I have two perfectly healthy daughters to these women. It comes out in the wording of their comments and I'm not so blind or out of touch as to not pick up on their subtleties.
2. I'm afraid to talk to my husband about the baby. It feels like he has done everything he can to distance himself from this pregnancy to protect himself. I understand his need to distance himself after what he also went through with our son, but it has left me feeling an overwhelming burden to leave him alone when I'd rather sit in his arms and cry or let him feel the joy I have in those moments where Dash is letting me know with every possible movement that she's there, she's alive, and she doesn't plan to go anywhere anytime soon.
3. The women who were pregnant with me and didn't meet a similar tragic end all get to hold their babies each night. They're posting picture after picture of their beautiful and growing bundles of joy and I see them and think about the moments I had to hold my son while being horrendously afraid that I won't get to hold a healthy little girl in the coming months. I have no such pictures to share and that hurts.
4. The new "crop" of pregnant women in one of the groups I'm in seems to have a different child-rearing and prenatal care philosophy than I and the group of "pregnant-together with Jackson" seem to have shared. Each time I try to offer my thoughts, I feel attacked. It's sort of like "I spent years trying to get pregnant and now I'm going to take what I feel is the easy way out so keep your 8+ years of motherhood and 11+ years of health research out of my way. I don't want to listen to it."
5. Let's face it: the number of close friends I have that live locally is Zero. This isn't exactly new to me--all of my closest friendships (apart from my husband and our best man) have been long distance. Even as a child I wasn't the kind to keep a friend very close on an emotional level. It's just not my style. Or it was, but I got burned pretty badly one too many times and learned that distance was less painful. The hard part is that sometimes I really do want that friend, the one who can read between the lines and come knocking on my door to take me out to lunch, or give me a hug, or go for a walk around the lake. But there isn't one within a 1,000 mile radius.
6. Here's the big one: I miss my mother. Horribly. Painfully. Daily. And I miss my dad, too. I realized last night that I hadn't heard from him in 6 weeks. I have no idea why. In the last couple of years he's become very distant. He doesn't always answer text messages, rarely returns phone calls, and never emails unless it's something very "businessy". After over a year of feeling like an afterthought, I've come to the realization that I'm not that important to him and neither are my children. It hurts. I don't know how much of his distance is related to the loss of my mother and how much is his balancing his newish marriage and trying to get to know his stepkids. But I do know that I'm tired of trying to find parental support on those rare occasions when I feel I need it and finding that I don't matter enough for a returned phone call.
So yes, I'm lonely. I have tried seeking help from a therapist on several occasions but find that nobody wants to take insurance anymore and someone who understands the framework of my religious beliefs as well as that of pregnancy loss is impossible. My budget isn't so loosey goosey that I can fly to Utah, where such therapists actually exist.
And I'm not allowed to fly, anyway.
What to do . . . what to do . . .
1. Recognize that my hormones sometimes get totally out of control. Today is one of those days, but at least it helped me to pinpoint an emotion I hadn't been able to pin over the last few months.
2. Leave the mommy-to-be group. I deleted the majority of my comments and posts and left the group. There's a decent chance I won't be missed (like I said, the current crop has very different feelings about things than the group I joined with last year!) and I'm totally okay with that.
3. I can't bring my mother back, but I can wait patiently for my mother-in-law to retire (less than 2 years!) so that I don't feel like I'm bugging her in the meantime when I feel the need for mature support. She's not Mom, but she's absolutely wonderful and I'm so very lucky to have her in my life.
4. I'm not sure what to do about my husband. He values his emotional independence just as much I do and has been that way for as long as I've known him, and based on family stories, has been that way his whole life. He has a lot of things on his plate besides just worries about Dash, and I respect that. But I think he and I also need to sit down at some point and start talking and planning for the months ahead. For one, Dash needs a real name and I'd prefer she have one picked out before she's born. I just need to find the emotional and physical strength to get the conversation started.
5. Everyone experiences loneliness at some point in their lives. Just because I feel alone doesn't mean that I am. I still have my Heavenly Father and even if he's all I've got, he's the best to have.
Saturday was a bit of a lazy morning and I didn't shower until about noon. When I stepped into the shower, I had every intention of spending the rest of my day watching Once Upon a Time. By the time I was grabbing my towel, I knew I was going to the temple instead. My husband took a look at my dress when I went down to the basement and knew exactly where I was headed, knowing it was clearly something I needed to do.
While there, I intended to spend my time and thoughts focusing on strength for me, something that is fairly normal for Latter-day Saints to do at the temple. Instead, my thoughts kept turning back to another mother in my ward. Her trials make mine look like a cake-walk. So instead of praying for myself and my baby girl, I prayed for Ann.
My loneliness may take time to heal, and it will likely take some significant effort on my part, but at least now I know what I have to deal with, and that's always half the battle.
On a side note, it is totally possible that some of what I'm experiencing is postpartum depression . . .
After conversing briefly with an online friend, I finally realized what it was.
So on top of the anxiety and the fear and the hormones, I realized today that I'm lonely. I hope that if I can number the ways I'm lonely, I can also find a way to reverse some of the causes.
1. Most of the women in my infertility groups have at most one living child. I have 2. And any time I mention either of them, I feel guilty that I've not been content with having the 2 that I have. That I've lost 5 other babies and been on this rollercoaster for over 11 years doesn't seem to weigh as significantly as the knowledge that I have two perfectly healthy daughters to these women. It comes out in the wording of their comments and I'm not so blind or out of touch as to not pick up on their subtleties.
2. I'm afraid to talk to my husband about the baby. It feels like he has done everything he can to distance himself from this pregnancy to protect himself. I understand his need to distance himself after what he also went through with our son, but it has left me feeling an overwhelming burden to leave him alone when I'd rather sit in his arms and cry or let him feel the joy I have in those moments where Dash is letting me know with every possible movement that she's there, she's alive, and she doesn't plan to go anywhere anytime soon.
3. The women who were pregnant with me and didn't meet a similar tragic end all get to hold their babies each night. They're posting picture after picture of their beautiful and growing bundles of joy and I see them and think about the moments I had to hold my son while being horrendously afraid that I won't get to hold a healthy little girl in the coming months. I have no such pictures to share and that hurts.
4. The new "crop" of pregnant women in one of the groups I'm in seems to have a different child-rearing and prenatal care philosophy than I and the group of "pregnant-together with Jackson" seem to have shared. Each time I try to offer my thoughts, I feel attacked. It's sort of like "I spent years trying to get pregnant and now I'm going to take what I feel is the easy way out so keep your 8+ years of motherhood and 11+ years of health research out of my way. I don't want to listen to it."
5. Let's face it: the number of close friends I have that live locally is Zero. This isn't exactly new to me--all of my closest friendships (apart from my husband and our best man) have been long distance. Even as a child I wasn't the kind to keep a friend very close on an emotional level. It's just not my style. Or it was, but I got burned pretty badly one too many times and learned that distance was less painful. The hard part is that sometimes I really do want that friend, the one who can read between the lines and come knocking on my door to take me out to lunch, or give me a hug, or go for a walk around the lake. But there isn't one within a 1,000 mile radius.
6. Here's the big one: I miss my mother. Horribly. Painfully. Daily. And I miss my dad, too. I realized last night that I hadn't heard from him in 6 weeks. I have no idea why. In the last couple of years he's become very distant. He doesn't always answer text messages, rarely returns phone calls, and never emails unless it's something very "businessy". After over a year of feeling like an afterthought, I've come to the realization that I'm not that important to him and neither are my children. It hurts. I don't know how much of his distance is related to the loss of my mother and how much is his balancing his newish marriage and trying to get to know his stepkids. But I do know that I'm tired of trying to find parental support on those rare occasions when I feel I need it and finding that I don't matter enough for a returned phone call.
So yes, I'm lonely. I have tried seeking help from a therapist on several occasions but find that nobody wants to take insurance anymore and someone who understands the framework of my religious beliefs as well as that of pregnancy loss is impossible. My budget isn't so loosey goosey that I can fly to Utah, where such therapists actually exist.
And I'm not allowed to fly, anyway.
What to do . . . what to do . . .
1. Recognize that my hormones sometimes get totally out of control. Today is one of those days, but at least it helped me to pinpoint an emotion I hadn't been able to pin over the last few months.
2. Leave the mommy-to-be group. I deleted the majority of my comments and posts and left the group. There's a decent chance I won't be missed (like I said, the current crop has very different feelings about things than the group I joined with last year!) and I'm totally okay with that.
3. I can't bring my mother back, but I can wait patiently for my mother-in-law to retire (less than 2 years!) so that I don't feel like I'm bugging her in the meantime when I feel the need for mature support. She's not Mom, but she's absolutely wonderful and I'm so very lucky to have her in my life.
4. I'm not sure what to do about my husband. He values his emotional independence just as much I do and has been that way for as long as I've known him, and based on family stories, has been that way his whole life. He has a lot of things on his plate besides just worries about Dash, and I respect that. But I think he and I also need to sit down at some point and start talking and planning for the months ahead. For one, Dash needs a real name and I'd prefer she have one picked out before she's born. I just need to find the emotional and physical strength to get the conversation started.
5. Everyone experiences loneliness at some point in their lives. Just because I feel alone doesn't mean that I am. I still have my Heavenly Father and even if he's all I've got, he's the best to have.
Saturday was a bit of a lazy morning and I didn't shower until about noon. When I stepped into the shower, I had every intention of spending the rest of my day watching Once Upon a Time. By the time I was grabbing my towel, I knew I was going to the temple instead. My husband took a look at my dress when I went down to the basement and knew exactly where I was headed, knowing it was clearly something I needed to do.
While there, I intended to spend my time and thoughts focusing on strength for me, something that is fairly normal for Latter-day Saints to do at the temple. Instead, my thoughts kept turning back to another mother in my ward. Her trials make mine look like a cake-walk. So instead of praying for myself and my baby girl, I prayed for Ann.
My loneliness may take time to heal, and it will likely take some significant effort on my part, but at least now I know what I have to deal with, and that's always half the battle.
On a side note, it is totally possible that some of what I'm experiencing is postpartum depression . . .
Thursday, October 9, 2014
Knock Knock. . . Ring!
My doorbell was rung right after a distinct knock this morning.
UPS came!
I never get a delivery unless I've ordered it myself so I knew exactly what it was.
HOMEWORK!
Last week, with Dash measuring close to a pound, it was time to commit to my goal of another epidural-free delivery. I researched several methods and decided to go with Hypnobabies.
 |
| FYI: The comb covering my address was made in a 3D printer by my 8 yr old |
They take their piracy and return policy pretty seriously.
But I'm committed.
My intro letter.
An enrollment form for me to return to them.
And my homework!
If my research is correct, I will have half an hour of listening to do each day in addition to the reading materials.
Naptime begins in about an hour and my studying will begin. After the night I had last night (almost no sleep) I hope there is something - - anything! - - to help me get some rest. Even on anxiety free nights I can't seem to sleep.
Dash was having a solo dance party last night, so I certainly wasn't anxious about her last night.
I managed 5 minute snippets until around 12:30, at which point I tossed on some pjs and headed down to the rocking chair. Every little noise was keeping me awake, and I'm fairly certain my 8 year old was having a rough night, too, because her bed kept creaking as she squirmed in it. Even from the main level of my home the noises I kept hearing were bothering me, so I put on some headphones and turned on Pandora.
Normally, those kinds of noises wouldn't keep me awake, but it seems that is not going to be the case for several months. I can't stay up like that every night, even if reading the Birth Without Fear stories swelled my heart with joy.
I need sleep! The Natural Calm Dr. H recommended is helping with the anxiety and keeping my bowels moving, but not sleep.
And I'm exhausted.
Tuesday, October 7, 2014
Preparations Begin
I have hit the 22 week mark. This is a pretty important milestone for a lot of reasons, but the biggest one is that a baby has survived at this gestational age in the past.
If you'd like to read about her, here you go.
Keep in mind that Amilia, the little girl who was born at 21w6d, was just the tiniest bit bigger than my son. He was 9oz in weight and 9" long. Amilia was under 10 z and under 10" long, too. Last week, as I reported, Dash has an estimated weight of 14oz, so quite a bit bigger than Jackson or Amilia.
Although the odds would be horridly against her, birth at this point would not necessarily result in Dash's death.
But it would result in several other things, so I've finally begun some minor preparations. While browsing at the mall today, I stopped at Motherhood Maternity and picked up a few nursing bras.
Why?
Two reasons: I need new bras since my current stash doesn't fit anymore and . . .
Living or dead, when Dash is born my milk will come in. If she is alive, you'd better believe she'll be getting mother's milk.
If she's not, or if she lives but not for long, then I'll buy a pump and spend at least a month pumping to donate milk. I haven't researched where to donate to, but this is something I can do in the days following her birth.
Mother's milk for a preterm baby is the most nutrient dense milk there is and according to a few nurses I've communicated with, NICUs use it whenever they can. If my donation can help save the life of someone else's baby, then you can bet I will do my best to help!
Until the week prior to Jackson's birth, I'd never even heard of stillbirth moms donating milk but when I read the story of a mother who had done just that, I knew it was something I would do if my milk came in. At just a day under 20 weeks, I was told my chances of it coming in were 50/50.
It never did. I had phantom letdowns for about 6 weeks, but that was it.
Now my chances of my milk coming in are probably close to 100%. I can't find a statistic on this and don't want to keep reading personal blogs to find out; it's a highly emotional thing to go through. But given that I'm getting phantom letdown again a couple times a week, it seems like my body is already gearing up for production of its miracle liquid.
There are moments when I realize just how few weeks I may have left to be pregnant. I can't guess what the future holds, and I'd love to be hugely pregnant at Christmas, but I might not be. It feels like my days of kicks and wiggles are already coming to a close and that makes me sad.
As horrid as my anxiety is, I absolutely love being pregnant. I don't get morning sickness, I was able to solve the Sunday Headache mystery, and there's simply something amazing about feeling life within me.
Equally amazing is watching the look on my daughters' faces as they place a hand on my belly and feel her moving, too.
Today was the first time my 4 yr old recognized what she was feeling. She'd crawled in my lap while the daycare children were napping. Dash had been kicking pretty hard, so I placed her hand in the spot where most of the movement was concentrated. It took a minute or two for another really solid kick, but it happened.
"Mom! I felt that! It was like a bump under my hand!" She's old enough to know she should whisper, so it was the most exuberant whisper you could possibly imagine. Her excitement was palpable.
My heart swelled with gratitude, not only for Dash, but for my precious daughter who keeps those around her smiling with her abundance of joy and her ability to tell stories. She loves life.
There are some things I will start to do in the coming weeks, mostly with a sense of caution. I know that anything I do needs to be something that can be undone if necessary.
Of all the things on the list, I believe #7 will be the hardest for me. You can't undo the naming of a child. Each time I start to think about names, I think of the conversations my husband and I had and that last one in particular, where we agreed that regardless of the outcome, our son would be Jackson Lawrence.
Jackson was still alive when we made that decision, and tears were streaming down my face in fear during the entire decision-making process.
Here is the picture I took early this morning.
On a side note, I believe my baby is growing hair on her head. Acid indigestion has set in, much like it did with my other girls. Calcium antacids are absolutely no help! It's not horrible, but chocolate and dairy products really seem to set it off and evenings are worse than mornings or afternoons.
Thinking of her hair makes me wonder what color it will be?!?? There is a chance she could be a redhead; my maternal grandmother was a redhead and I have the fair skinned, freckled complexion. I just happen to tan a little as well.
There is also a chance that she could have hair like her sisters, born with dark brown/black hair and then growing in blonde.
Or even starting blonde but changing to the deep brown/black that my husband and his sisters inherited from their parents.
That I can even think of such a thing is a sign of my progressively cautious optimism.
*******
If you would like to read the different perspective on the emotional aspects of pregnancy after loss, there is a decent list here.
If you'd like to read about her, here you go.
Keep in mind that Amilia, the little girl who was born at 21w6d, was just the tiniest bit bigger than my son. He was 9oz in weight and 9" long. Amilia was under 10 z and under 10" long, too. Last week, as I reported, Dash has an estimated weight of 14oz, so quite a bit bigger than Jackson or Amilia.
Although the odds would be horridly against her, birth at this point would not necessarily result in Dash's death.
But it would result in several other things, so I've finally begun some minor preparations. While browsing at the mall today, I stopped at Motherhood Maternity and picked up a few nursing bras.
Why?
Two reasons: I need new bras since my current stash doesn't fit anymore and . . .
Living or dead, when Dash is born my milk will come in. If she is alive, you'd better believe she'll be getting mother's milk.
If she's not, or if she lives but not for long, then I'll buy a pump and spend at least a month pumping to donate milk. I haven't researched where to donate to, but this is something I can do in the days following her birth.
Mother's milk for a preterm baby is the most nutrient dense milk there is and according to a few nurses I've communicated with, NICUs use it whenever they can. If my donation can help save the life of someone else's baby, then you can bet I will do my best to help!
Until the week prior to Jackson's birth, I'd never even heard of stillbirth moms donating milk but when I read the story of a mother who had done just that, I knew it was something I would do if my milk came in. At just a day under 20 weeks, I was told my chances of it coming in were 50/50.
It never did. I had phantom letdowns for about 6 weeks, but that was it.
Now my chances of my milk coming in are probably close to 100%. I can't find a statistic on this and don't want to keep reading personal blogs to find out; it's a highly emotional thing to go through. But given that I'm getting phantom letdown again a couple times a week, it seems like my body is already gearing up for production of its miracle liquid.
There are moments when I realize just how few weeks I may have left to be pregnant. I can't guess what the future holds, and I'd love to be hugely pregnant at Christmas, but I might not be. It feels like my days of kicks and wiggles are already coming to a close and that makes me sad.
As horrid as my anxiety is, I absolutely love being pregnant. I don't get morning sickness, I was able to solve the Sunday Headache mystery, and there's simply something amazing about feeling life within me.
Equally amazing is watching the look on my daughters' faces as they place a hand on my belly and feel her moving, too.
Today was the first time my 4 yr old recognized what she was feeling. She'd crawled in my lap while the daycare children were napping. Dash had been kicking pretty hard, so I placed her hand in the spot where most of the movement was concentrated. It took a minute or two for another really solid kick, but it happened.
"Mom! I felt that! It was like a bump under my hand!" She's old enough to know she should whisper, so it was the most exuberant whisper you could possibly imagine. Her excitement was palpable.
My heart swelled with gratitude, not only for Dash, but for my precious daughter who keeps those around her smiling with her abundance of joy and her ability to tell stories. She loves life.
There are some things I will start to do in the coming weeks, mostly with a sense of caution. I know that anything I do needs to be something that can be undone if necessary.
- Move my fabric bins to the basement, where a new-to-me sewing desk is located. It's a handmade desk and bookshelf combo that will hold both of my machines as well as a lot of my organizing bins.
- Remove one of the bookshelves from what is currently my sewing room. There is no room for a crib or bassinet at the moment. I won't set up the crib until after Dash is born, but it's time to at least make room.
- Sew a healthy stash of breast pads. With my serger, these should be a nice quick project. I even have flannel scraps ready to do this once I cut them out.
- Research my health insurance for breast pump coverage. I won't buy a pump anytime soon, but I'd like to know how much of the cost can be covered by insurance. If my insurance covers a decent portion, I will buy a fancier pump than if the coverage is rather pathetic.
- Tour the Birthing Inn. This appointment has already been set up, so it's just a matter of waiting until that designated day.
- Begin my Hypnobabies studies. I purchased the full curriculum and it should arrive in the next day or two. This will involve both reading and listening. The soundtracks are about half an hour each, and I will find time each day to listen to them in preparation for what I hope will be an epidural-free birth. I've done it once, I hope to be able to do it again.
- It's time for my husband and I to start thinking about names. This has never been very hard for us, but I think it will be much more difficult this time than it has been in the past.
Of all the things on the list, I believe #7 will be the hardest for me. You can't undo the naming of a child. Each time I start to think about names, I think of the conversations my husband and I had and that last one in particular, where we agreed that regardless of the outcome, our son would be Jackson Lawrence.
Jackson was still alive when we made that decision, and tears were streaming down my face in fear during the entire decision-making process.
Here is the picture I took early this morning.
On a side note, I believe my baby is growing hair on her head. Acid indigestion has set in, much like it did with my other girls. Calcium antacids are absolutely no help! It's not horrible, but chocolate and dairy products really seem to set it off and evenings are worse than mornings or afternoons.
Thinking of her hair makes me wonder what color it will be?!?? There is a chance she could be a redhead; my maternal grandmother was a redhead and I have the fair skinned, freckled complexion. I just happen to tan a little as well.
There is also a chance that she could have hair like her sisters, born with dark brown/black hair and then growing in blonde.
Or even starting blonde but changing to the deep brown/black that my husband and his sisters inherited from their parents.
That I can even think of such a thing is a sign of my progressively cautious optimism.
*******
If you would like to read the different perspective on the emotional aspects of pregnancy after loss, there is a decent list here.
Friday, October 3, 2014
Mystery Solvers
Everybody needs a day off sometimes, and doctors are no exception. Whether my doctor is having health problems of her own or is a busy mama with college aged children or something else--she finds doctors who can fill in for her and for that I'm grateful.
Today I met one of her subs. He was a middle aged man who clearly loves his job. As he picked through my printed medical records, he noticed that Dr. H had run the SSA/SSB antibody test but couldn't see the results, so he made sure to hunt those down.
My tests for both were negative. Although it wouldn't have changed any of the medications I'm currently taking, he said he'd have me come in sooner to have the baby's heart checked if either or both had been positive.
This doctor and I also talked a little about my loss and that I don't fit into the normal medical category. His comment was something to the effect of "I love mysteries because I always learn something new and that makes me a better doctor."
I liked that attitude. That my specific "case" is unusual didn't bother him, but rather was fascinating.
We also talked a little about college football (he went to West Point and rather snickered at how awful their football team is) and large families. Near the end of the appointment, he noticed that I had seen Dr. Jane Allen and mentioned that he went to school with her. He then proceeded to let me know that I need to ask her about the placenta study they did that their mentor wouldn't let them publish because the mentor felt the results were not strong enough.
So then we talked about how hard it is to find doctors and pathologists who really understand the placenta and can do proper studies on them.
Yes, I liked the sub today.
Curious about Dash yet??
Dash is still growing okay. She's measuring a day behind where I am gestationally (again) but 3 days behind where she ought to have been based on the last growth scan if growth was continuous.
It's not the most yippee!!! news, but it wasn't bad, either. She's measuring in the 40th percentile, so smaller than my other girls, but still not worrisome. Her weight is approximately 14oz.
The newest development? She's frank breech. With my other pregnancies, once my babies were head down, they really liked to stay that way.
Not Dash. Oh no. She likes to do everything her own way.
And I thought my second daughter marched to her own drum. She may be a cake walk in comparison!
She needs a boring, unassuming name; something to give her a chance at serene and dignified behavior.
Oh, who am I kidding. She'll be Dash no matter what her birth certificate says.
And yes, I'm starting to believe she'll be born alive. I'm still not making any preparations (what's the point??) but my mental planning is starting to take place more often than in the past.
This is the first image of her I've been able to take home that I felt was worth posting in several weeks. She kept her hands and feet right up in front of her face pretty much the entire time, making measuring a little tough--another reason I'm not too concerned about the mildly smaller measurements. If you're familiar with these kinds of images, what do you think you see?
Today I met one of her subs. He was a middle aged man who clearly loves his job. As he picked through my printed medical records, he noticed that Dr. H had run the SSA/SSB antibody test but couldn't see the results, so he made sure to hunt those down.
My tests for both were negative. Although it wouldn't have changed any of the medications I'm currently taking, he said he'd have me come in sooner to have the baby's heart checked if either or both had been positive.
This doctor and I also talked a little about my loss and that I don't fit into the normal medical category. His comment was something to the effect of "I love mysteries because I always learn something new and that makes me a better doctor."
I liked that attitude. That my specific "case" is unusual didn't bother him, but rather was fascinating.
We also talked a little about college football (he went to West Point and rather snickered at how awful their football team is) and large families. Near the end of the appointment, he noticed that I had seen Dr. Jane Allen and mentioned that he went to school with her. He then proceeded to let me know that I need to ask her about the placenta study they did that their mentor wouldn't let them publish because the mentor felt the results were not strong enough.
So then we talked about how hard it is to find doctors and pathologists who really understand the placenta and can do proper studies on them.
Yes, I liked the sub today.
Curious about Dash yet??
Dash is still growing okay. She's measuring a day behind where I am gestationally (again) but 3 days behind where she ought to have been based on the last growth scan if growth was continuous.
It's not the most yippee!!! news, but it wasn't bad, either. She's measuring in the 40th percentile, so smaller than my other girls, but still not worrisome. Her weight is approximately 14oz.
The newest development? She's frank breech. With my other pregnancies, once my babies were head down, they really liked to stay that way.
Not Dash. Oh no. She likes to do everything her own way.
And I thought my second daughter marched to her own drum. She may be a cake walk in comparison!
She needs a boring, unassuming name; something to give her a chance at serene and dignified behavior.
Oh, who am I kidding. She'll be Dash no matter what her birth certificate says.
And yes, I'm starting to believe she'll be born alive. I'm still not making any preparations (what's the point??) but my mental planning is starting to take place more often than in the past.
This is the first image of her I've been able to take home that I felt was worth posting in several weeks. She kept her hands and feet right up in front of her face pretty much the entire time, making measuring a little tough--another reason I'm not too concerned about the mildly smaller measurements. If you're familiar with these kinds of images, what do you think you see?
Wednesday, October 1, 2014
21 Weeks
The last handful of days have been busy and mildly entertaining. Sunday was the day I'd been dreading for almost 6 months, but as I woke up, Dash was twisting and stretching and kept that up through frequent intervals all day.
It really helped me out.
In Relief Society, the lesson was on hope, and I had a hard time separating eternal hope, which is what most of the lesson focused on, from temporary hope, which is something I have a very difficult time with since I find hope to be so painful.
A question was asked regarding someone having their blessings or hope delayed and at that point, I couldn't keep my mouth shut.
I explained a little of my background, with the hope my pregnancy with Jackson had given us and that feeling that everything was going to be okay and how even with that surety, we lost him. I then brought up my current pregnancy, and how new medical problems were still making things very unsure and there's no promise that the Hope we were given in November of 2013 will be fulfilled with Dash's birth.
It is hope in an eternal sense that keeps me going. I sometimes wonder how individuals who have experienced great tragedy manage to move forward from day to day, but it's not something I can really fathom because of my knowledge of the Plan of Salvation. That knowledge frames my emotions from the very core of their existence and it can't be undone.
Sunday night ended and just half an hour later, my 8 year old was up with a tummy ache that led to a very miserable 5 hours of vomiting for her and both of us trying to get rest without succeeding. It's hard to sleep when the waves of sickness come on every 10-20 minutes. When she mentioned she'd had lunch meat before bed, I truly hoped it was just the meat, which was expired, and not something contagious.
It is now over 48 hours since she got sick and nobody else has had any problems, so it must have been the meat. It will be a long time before she's willing to have a ham sandwich again!
Monday also marked the 6 month anniversary of Jackson's birth. Sometimes it feels like a lifetime, but in other moments I can't believe a full 6 months have passed. And now I'm 21 weeks along, further than I made it with our son.
Dash is significantly longer than Jackson ever was. I can feel her kicking around my bellybutton now, although most of the movement I feel is still down at her head, where she likes to keep her hands. I can feel her hiccups now, too. They only last a minute or two, but the rhythmic bump is hard to miss.
With my oldest, hiccups were the first indicator I had that what I was feeling really was the baby and not just gas bubbles. By the time my second daughter came around, I had it figured out much sooner and even her father felt her kicking before 15 weeks.
As Dash gets bigger and stronger, I feel her more frequently. This movement is something I cherish, even when some of them are uncomfortable. I don't know if this is my last pregnancy or not, so every movement shines light on my heart while I thank my Heavenly Father to have been given another chance.
On Friday, I will see Dr. H again. I'll have an ultrasound to check Dash's growth and her fluid levels and then we'll set up another appointment. I'm getting close to the point where my appointments will be scheduled every 2 weeks, but I'm not sure if that will happen after this appointment or the next.
On a side note, a woman in my Lovenox support group was talking about her preemie son who is now a year old. She mentioned that her son had a "NICU girlfriend" who was born at 23 weeks and is now also a year old and is showing normal growth and development. It's stories like these that give me hope that if Dash has to come super early, she may still be okay.
My friend lost her daughter who was born at 23 weeks, and a family in my father's ward recently lost their son who had been born at 24w6d, so it is never a sure thing. But the fact that medical technology has made enough advancement to save a baby that is born almost 17 weeks before their due date is simply amazing to me. And comforting.
According to a chart you can find here, attributed to the March of Dimes, a baby born at 23 weeks has a 17% chance of survival. By 26 weeks, the survival rate jumps to 80%. However, of those babies that survive, only 20% have no long-term problems resulting from their premature birth.
Dash needs every day she can get to keep growing and since we got my anti-Xa levels back in range, she's been growing well. We'll know for sure on Friday if that growth is still on the right curve.
So here is a photo of my growth.
The most notable "bump" difference is my belly button, which is doing it's weird wider-and-flatter thing it likes to do around this point in pregnancy. I've never ended up with an outie, but it sure does do some weird things, including starting to itch.
But hey, I'll talk all of it if it means Dash is growing and healthy!
Friday, September 26, 2014
Anxiety Attack
The last few days my emotions have gone from mildly controllable to out of control. The panic, anxiety, and fear became more than I could handle. Add to that a very quiet and calm Dash and it led to almost no sleep Wednesday night.
Thursday morning I woke, having not felt her kick most of the night and decided to eat Lucky Charms to get her moving.
It didn't work.
I could still hear her heartbeat on my doppler, but there was a new howling sound that I hadn't heard before and it was nowhere near the placenta, which can sometimes make a variety of noises based on what I've read. Hearing the heartbeat was only mildly reassuring because the heartbeat is the last thing to go when a problem arises. It can confirm that the baby is alive, but nothing more than that.
In panicked tears I called and spoke to my nurse at Dr. H's office and she said they wanted me to come in as quickly as possible for an NST.
This type of crippling anxiety isn't one I experience often, but this wasn't the first time it's happened.
It took a few minutes to get my 4 year old ready to go out the door and set up arrangements for the two daycare children I was to watch that day: one in the morning and one in the afternoon. On the way there I realized I didn't have my EZPass, which allows me to quickly drive through the toll booths for the toll roads that are essentially required to get there.
I turned around, hoping to find my EZPass on the stairs but it was nowhere to be found. This wasn't helping my panic at all!
I eventually made it to Rockville, where my friend, R, who referred me to the practice in the first place met me. I was so grateful for her offer to come and help me with my daughter and having someone there to talk to, even about more mundane things, made the waiting easier.
Because I'm only 20 weeks, the NST wasn't working well and a solid and steady heart rate couldn't be monitored. I sat in that room in a reclining and comfy chair for roughly 45 minutes, talking to R and finally feeling Dash "wake up".
The doctor decided to squeeze me in for an ultrasound, given not only my panicked state but also the cord compression issue I'd experienced less than a week before. Once in the ultrasound room, my daughter had a chance for a few minutes to watch her sister on the monitor and measurements began. Her interest didn't last long, but since then she keeps asking how big Dash is compared to various objects she holds in her hands (a bunch of grapes, a doll, a hairbrush, her shoe, etc).
Because the anatomy scan two weeks prior hadn't been finished, the tech took the time to get the remained of the images they needed to make off the file as completed. In addition, she checked the flow of blood in the umbilical cord.
Everything measured perfectly.
Dash looked so big in the scan. She's definitely bigger than Jackson ever was but every bit as stubborn as he tended to be when it came to being in the right position for the images.
My 4 year old was like that, too!
When Dr. H came in to review everything, we talked about my anxiety and she recommended I get a supplement from Whole Foods called CALM. It's a magnesium supplement that she wants me to take right before bed. I bought a version that also contains calcium, knowing that I have low calcium intake and that Lovenox has a tendency to deplete calcium stores. When asked when my next appointment was, I responded, "A week from tomorrow."
"Perfect. Keep it. You'll feel better if you come in and that's what we need right now."
Thank You, Thank You!!
After getting my van back and eventually making it to Whole Foods, the chiropractor, dinner, and having my visiting teachers come over, it was bedtime. So I mixed that Raspberry-Lemonade flavored CALM into some water and drank it. It's not very tasty, but it's better than other supplements I've had to take!
I slugged my way upstairs, brushed my teeth, rolled onto my side with my extra pillow between my knees and went to sleep around 9:45PM with Dash wiggling around.
And I didn't move.
At 3:37AM, I woke up to go to the bathroom and realized just how deep my sleep had been. I felt wonderful! I returned to bed and slept soundly until 5:45, when I woke and realized I was well rested and could get in the shower before my alarm went off.
Although it could have been sheer exhaustion, I'm fairly certain it was a combination of the CALM, the ultrasound, and Dr. H saying, "Failure is not an option" that helped me out.
I am now two gestational days away from where Jackson passed away. I will hit that angleversary on the same day that we lost our little girl two years ago, September 28th. If Dash is extra active, it will make the day less painful, but if she sticks true to character, she'll pick Sunday as her day of rest and it will be a not-so-calm one for me emotionally.
In the meantime, I can sit here in my rocking chair and feel her wiggling around and kicking not far from my bellybutton and thank my Father in Heaven for a doctor who understands my fears and for the life that continues to grow within me.
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
20 Weeks and Doulas
It is officially time to start planning.
Birth planning, that is.
Come rain or shine, Dash will be born and all other alternatives are out the window. Not that I would have chosen a D&C before, but now I am far enough along that there aren't any alternatives left for the two of us.
I spent the babies' naptime this morning researching doulas. For the sake of simplicity, a doula is a woman trained to assist other women through the birth and postpartum process. Evidence Based Birth, one of my "go to" sites because it uses statistics to back the opinions of the authors, has a great definition, history, and statistical birth outcomes for labors that are doula assisted. The link is here and worth the read!
For the live births of my two daughters, my mother was present. For Jackson, David and I spent most of the day alone, in silence. We discussed the necessary things, such as cremation vs. burial, made a few phone calls to so we could tell the hospital where to send Jackson's remains, and otherwise tried to pass the time.
But it was awful. Neither of us knew what to do or say to each other and I don't want that to happen again.
It turns out there is an organization that trains doulas to assist in stillbirths, postpartum care after a stillbirth, and rainbow births.
I spent a significant amount of time on their website and hope to have some luck finding a doula through their list.
It is difficult to separate my moment by moment thoughts from the constant awareness that this is the gestational week where we lost our son. Every little kick and punch affirms that Dash is alive and well and her moments of quiet keep me on edge.
I haven't made any progress on the sleeping front. Last night was every bit as rough as the last few nights. What I'm going to do is try and find a high density foam wedge that I can use to keep me propped up in a reclined position, whether I am on my side or if I want to lay back without being flat. If I can't find something commercially made, then I will go to the fabric store and make one.
Until then, I'll stay half-sleeping or snuggle up in my rocking chair for the night. . .
Birth planning, that is.
Come rain or shine, Dash will be born and all other alternatives are out the window. Not that I would have chosen a D&C before, but now I am far enough along that there aren't any alternatives left for the two of us.
I spent the babies' naptime this morning researching doulas. For the sake of simplicity, a doula is a woman trained to assist other women through the birth and postpartum process. Evidence Based Birth, one of my "go to" sites because it uses statistics to back the opinions of the authors, has a great definition, history, and statistical birth outcomes for labors that are doula assisted. The link is here and worth the read!
For the live births of my two daughters, my mother was present. For Jackson, David and I spent most of the day alone, in silence. We discussed the necessary things, such as cremation vs. burial, made a few phone calls to so we could tell the hospital where to send Jackson's remains, and otherwise tried to pass the time.
But it was awful. Neither of us knew what to do or say to each other and I don't want that to happen again.
It turns out there is an organization that trains doulas to assist in stillbirths, postpartum care after a stillbirth, and rainbow births.
I spent a significant amount of time on their website and hope to have some luck finding a doula through their list.
It is difficult to separate my moment by moment thoughts from the constant awareness that this is the gestational week where we lost our son. Every little kick and punch affirms that Dash is alive and well and her moments of quiet keep me on edge.
I haven't made any progress on the sleeping front. Last night was every bit as rough as the last few nights. What I'm going to do is try and find a high density foam wedge that I can use to keep me propped up in a reclined position, whether I am on my side or if I want to lay back without being flat. If I can't find something commercially made, then I will go to the fabric store and make one.
Until then, I'll stay half-sleeping or snuggle up in my rocking chair for the night. . .
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