23 Weeks and the Chiropractor

Another day has come and gone. The days are flying by but the weeks seem to be crawling.

Today is the next milestone. At 23 weeks, my baby could be saved if I were to go into labor. She needs a few more weeks for my local hospital, but Inova Fairfax saves babies who have reached 23 weeks gestation.

Not that I want Dash making an appearance any time soon. I really am hoping to get to at least 29 weeks, but 35 would be even better!

I already know she's just a little on the small side, the the longer she has to grow in me, the better!

My anxiety Monday night was, quite honestly, out of control. I laid in bed for over an hour, hoping for the slightest movement but she was either not in a good position for me to feel her, or she was simply sleeping longer than normal.

I was able to keep my own breathing and heart rate under control, so it was quite a surprise to clock Dash's heartbeat at 160 bmp. Her normal is 140-145 bpm. So although she was certainly alive (and I could hear some minor movements with the doppler, too), it was clear that I needed to calm down quickly.

My own adrenaline was making her heart race and that just isn't good.

At all!

Try as I might, I wasn't able to fully settle down and relax until about 3pm, when her movements picked up their usual pattern. However, I know her heart rate was back to it's normal range around noon, because I checked it once the children were sleeping.

I have a few theories about why she seemed so still Monday night and into Tuesday morning. They're theories however, and I can't prove them.

I've begun doing a few Spinning Babies exercises. These are designed to help a mom and her baby work together to get into the ideal positioning for birth. They can also relieve many of the aches and pains associated with pregnancy.

One of the exercises is simply getting on my hands and knees and arching my back up, creating a "hammock" of sorts for Dash. The result is that she flips so that her back is against my belly and her feet and hands face my insides. In addition to relaxing my abdominal muscles, this positional switch means that much of her movement is muffled by our placenta. She needs to face my spine for an easier birth.

For now, she has plenty of room to move however she pleases, but it would be great if she could develop a preference for the ideal birthing position so that as she grows and runs out of room to flip around, she's in the correct position and not breech.

Fast forward to Tuesday evening, when my family and I went to our chiropractor. He's an amazing man who keeps up to date not just on spinal care and manipulation, but also on many of the things that impact health at the source. He believes in treating causes, not symptoms.

My 8 year old was diagnosed with scoliosis earlier this summer. She's using a device called a cantilever to manipulate her spine and retrain her muscles as well as taking some supplements to balance her neurotransmitters.

Her x-rays show some pretty remarkable improvement over the last 6 weeks.

At a recent conference, Dr. Randy learned more about spinal cord shortening in youth. He did a quick test on my daughter last night, which showed that she had some shortening and gave us a stretch for us to help her do.

He then started talking about a gene mutation that affects the body's ability to process folic acid and how parts of the scientific community are coming to realize just how devastating this mutation can be. The mutation (which I'm familiar with!) is known as MTHFR. It also appears that this mutation has a direct impact on neurotransmitters.

MTHFR is a mutation that approximately 40% of the American population has at least one copy of. But the part I find most fascinating? Roughly 98% of those with Autism Spectrum Disorder have the mutation.

Call me nuts, but don't you think that matters?!??

Testing for MTHFR is standard practice in the repeat pregnancy loss blood panel that I had run in June 2013. It showed that I do not have the mutation. Phew! It's a mutation that is well known in the infertility and pregnancy loss community because it really impacts fertility.

In a nutshell, when we consume folic acid, or vitamin B9, our bodies should create an enzyme as part multi-step process to build proteins and other usable and necessary compounds in our bodies. But if you have one or two copies of the MTHFR mutation, that multi-step process is broken because the enzyme either doesn't work well or isn't there. The result is a build-up of folic acid (and a few other things) in the body that poisons you.

That poisoning takes on a variety of forms, but just how important this mutation is is only beginning to come to light.

To know if either of my daughters has the mutation I'd need to have their blood drawn, which is something I will do at their next check-up. In the meantime, I'll be doing what I can to ensure they are getting adequate levels of l-methylfolate (the final compound in the multi-step process I mentioned before) and not folic acid.

So fortified cereals are out and the vitamins they take will also be monitored closely until we know for sure that they don't have a copy of the mutation. They'd have one copy, at MOST, since I have none.

It was then my turn to be adjusted. I gave Dr. Randy a rundown of the night and day that I'd had as well as talking about my spinning babies research and their mention of the psoas muscle.  He's stretched my psoas twice before. It's horribly uncomfortable to have done, but the results feel pretty amazing and now I have additional information that states this stretching will need to be done if Dash is going to get into the proper position in the weeks to come.

He also took a look at my soft palate in response to my anxiety. I don't know what he saw, but based on his observation, he gave me a printout of left-brain activities to do. These should help balance the neurological impact of the anxiety I'm having, which appears to be triggered by my right-brain.

It's all about balance.

The activities are going to be pretty fun. One includes listening to music with a strong beat, not country, classical, or jazz, with only my earbud in the right ear for 10 minutes twice a day. Sound crosses brain hemispheres, so this activates the left brain. I'm also to work out some basic math problems on paper as well as doing two more physical activities that are very short and involve my eyes. I almost laughed at the math activities. I adore math so this will be a matter of doing my 8 year old daughter's homework on separate paper before she does it. Easy Peasy, but if it helps calm me down so that Dash can also stay healthy, then it'll be worth the silliness.

Dash doesn't need all the extra adrenaline running through her system.

By the time my spinal adjustment and muscles were stretched, I felt so much better. I slept really well, too, and it's clear that Dash had a better night as well. She wiggled and stretched often enough to keep me calm and sleeping well.

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: 

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.

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.

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

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 . . .

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. 

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.

1. 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.
2. 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.
3. 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.
4. 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.
5. Tour the Birthing Inn. This appointment has already been set up, so it's just a matter of waiting until that designated day.
6. 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.
7. 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.

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?

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!