Fertile Hope

A good week

2012-01-23T01:17:00.003-06:00

Spending the week with my mother in law was really nice. I always suspected it would be nice to have a real mom and it turns out I was right. We get along very well, so it was fun to have someone to talk to and gossip with. She loves the kids almost as much as I do and helps SO much with them. She cooked, she cleaned, hell, she did my laundry! A girl could get used to that.

Anxiety wise, I did pretty well. I had one bad night where I started thinking about being home alone with the kids again which set me into a tizzy, but it eventually passed.

I've been home a few days now and still doing pretty well. I'm still having a hard time when I first wake up. It doesn't matter if it's morning or a nap, for about an hour after I wake up, I'm really jittery and shaky. It feels a bit like having low blood sugar, but it's not that. I've found that if I have something caffeinated, it seems to help, so I think it's related to trying to get my blood pumping again.

I go back to the OB tomorrow to discuss progress. I am going to talk about changing meds. I'm a little nervous to do so because I'm afraid the anxiety will get worse again, but I'm hopeful that maybe we can manage even my residual anxiety and lessen the side effects as well.

I also start therapy tomorrow. I'm not really nervous about therapy itself. I've been in therapy before (in my late teens) and I'm fine with that. I originally went to college for psychology and feel pretty comfortable in that setting. I am, however, worried about liking my therapist. She seems very nice on the phone and came recommended by a friend I really trust. But she asked for some childhood history via email and spilling that all out in an email made me feel really vulnerable. And then she didn't reply. I ended up sending a follow up email under the guise of asking a question, sort of hoping she'd say something reassuring, but no luck. But I guess will see how it goes.

I know that having had a few days being mostly anxiety free has been really refreshing. I can't say I've felt 100% like the old me, but I couldn't say if that's mental illness or straight out exhaustion. (Charlotte had 4 nights in a row of being up for a 3 hour stretch in the middle of the night.) Either way, I am functional and capable of feeling joy, so I'll take it.

I'm also hopefully in the home stretch of quarantine. The doc said 8 weeks past due date, which gives us 2.5 weeks to go. Charlotte goes back to the doctor on Tuesday (rescheduled from 2 weeks ago because the highway to the doctor was shut down with ice) and we'll discuss it then. She's doing very well and gaining weight really well, so I don't think she'll stop us. I know she'll caution us that she's still small and need to be careful, but we should be able to go out and have company if we use good sense. And honestly, once Robbie goes back to school, there will be a steady flow of germs into the house anyway. I just hope the worst of it has passed by then (thinking the first week of March.)

I think having things to look forward to has helped my mental health more than just about anything else. One of the worst parts about anxiety has been the feeling that THIS (this feeling, this exhaustion, this overwhelmedness, this life) is forever. Being able to look and say "no, on X date, something good will happen" goes a long way to negate that. So looking forward to getting away for a week, then to starting therapy, then to getting out of quarantine... it's been nice.

We've also decided to take another week at my mother in law's next month. The week before Robbie goes back to school, we'll spend with her again. This time we'll even be able to go out to dinner or do some shopping since that should be post-quarantine. Another thing to look forward to.

I'm also looking forward to Robbie going back to school, too. Right now the plan is just preschool (2 hours) on Monday & Wednesday and all day on Tuesday & Thursday (he'll stay home on Fridays). That gives him 4 days of preschool plus two full days of being with his friends. While his development has done a LOT of catching up in the last year, the biggest area that he is still behind in are in his social development. Being with the other kids his age is the best way to facilitate that, so I think it's important for him.

And honestly, the idea of 2 days a week where I can sleep when Charlotte sleeps sounds great. Even on the weekends when David is home, Robbie wants me all the time. David takes Charlotte so I can take a nap and I wake up to Robbie bouncing on my head. Or the sound of David and Robbie at the door arguing about whether mommy really needs to be left alone or not. Being loved by your son is a good problem to have, for sure. But a real nap sounds pretty nice, too.

All in all, it was a good week. And I hope that this week continues to be so. It's hard to feel confident that it will be because it seems like just when I think I've got this thing licked, anxiety surges through again, but I'm trying to remain positive. Wish me luck.

--Trish

Away

2012-01-18T01:06:00.002-06:00

Things have been pretty okay this week. I'm at my mother-in-law's for the week. David is at home, but the kids and I are here. Having another woman- a mom- around is pretty awesome. David's been amazing but there is nothing like a mom to see what needs to be done and do it without having to be directed. It's almost enough to make me consider taking a sister-wife. If only David could keep up with two of us.

It's also been interesting to be mothered so consistently. David asked me the other night what it was like to have a mom. I said it was pretty awesome. Having grown up without one, it's amazing to see how the other half lived. My dad was (is) a great dad, but again, a mom just gets things that most men don't. I walked into my room tonight and just stared at a basket of clean laundry. When I'd left my room earlier it was dirty and now it was clean. That's.....magic. A girl could get used to being taken care of.

Of course, being me, I managed to let that give me anxiety tonight. She is driving back with me on Friday and then will drive herself home (David took her car home) on Saturday. I had a thought about how I'd miss the help on Sunday and WHAM! anxiety set in. Even though things really have been improving, my biggest fear is still being alone with the kids. As soon as it hit me, I started talking myself through it. I AM alone with the kids ALL the time. Hell, my MIL has a job, I've been alone with the kids while I've been here. And they seem to be doing just fine. But once in a while all I can think is how tired and overwhelmed I am and how will I ever get through it.

That rolled into wondering if I ever won't be afraid again. What if I feel like this forever? What if I can't enjoy the kids, what if I don't want to be alone with them, what if they know I am scared? Will they think I don't love them? Is this what my mother felt like? Is this why she left me? What if I snap and leave my kids like she left me? (And whoa. Typing that out makes me realize that I CLEARLY still have mommy issues that I thought I'd worked through. Mental note to bring that up in therapy next week.) Cue hands shaking, stomach churning, brink of tears.

My MIL was bathing Robbie. I put Charlotte in the moby and went to join them. She offered to let me sit and I explained that I was feeling anxious and was better off pacing and burning off the energy. She was very sympathetic. We talked about the physical feeling of anxiety and how nonsensical it is. I just hate it. She's very encouraging, and we both help therapy will help. But I'm so frustrated that something as mundane as "sure will miss her when she's back home" turns into what turned out to be a nearly 3 hour anxiety cycle. I'm sick of it.

I did think of this:

and held onto it. Those fears of it lasting forever are not real. They are the illness lying to me. It is a lie. Thanks to The Bloggess for it because I clung to it. And right now-now that it has passed- I think "how silly. I'm not scared of my kids. They're awesome and I've totally got this. And of course I'll get better. Think of how many people have contacted you to tell you how they've recovered..." But I also know that that hopeless feeling seems so real when I'm in the middle of it.

I hate anxiety. I hate that my own body and mind are doing this to me in spite of me knowing it's not real. I hate that even when I'm not feeling anxious, I'm thinking about when I'm going to next be anxious. I'm still having a period of tension just after dusk each night. So when I see the sun starting to set, I look at the clock and wonder when it's going to start. It's a fear-of-fear cycle that just plain blows.

I've been trying to stay busy and distracted. I'm working on gathering things for Charlotte's nursery. That's a ton of fun. Since I'm not at home, I had to call David and tell him to haul in all the boxes off the porch every night. It's going to be like another Christmas when I get home because there will be things waiting for me.

Right now the room that will be hers is David's office. It's going to move to the basement, but in order to do so, we have to have some wiring run down there (it's not finished). So I'm chomping at the bit to get it done. Hopefully when I can start painting and hanging things, that will give me both a physical and mental outlet to expend some energy. In the meantime, I'm doing a lot of online shopping (which is difficult when you're using an unreliable unsecured wifi connection, btw) and trying to ignore anything not as fun. I guess when that's done, I'm going to need a new project to focus on.

Or who knows, maybe by then I'll be all "fixed" and can just be lazy like normal. A girl can dream, eh?

--Trish

checking in

2012-01-12T22:42:00.004-06:00

Well, I'd say I'm about the same as I was last week. I still get tense and worried just after dark each night. I've installed full spectrum bulbs in key places throughout the house (wow, are they BRIGHT and WHITE! Robbie's taken to telling me that the old bulbs are yellow and the new ones are white. He's right.) and I turn them on before dusk even begins. Dark doesn't seem to bother me as much as dusk does.

Monday was a pretty decent day, the weather was great. I took the kids out for a long walk through the neighborhood just before dusk and was feeling great all evening. Then around 9:30, I was washing dishes and WHAM! It hit me harder than it has in a while. It was awful. It only lasted about an hour, which isn't bad, but it was intense and unexpected.

I've also been having a lot of heartburn and reflux. I'm still taking my reflux meds that I started while I was pregnant with Charlotte, so you'd think I'd be okay. I'm certain it's a symptom of the anxiety. It starts in the evening (or intensifies if it's started earlier.) and seems to precede the tense/anxious feelings by about a half an hour or 45 minutes. I think it's the start of my body gearing up to freak out.

I contacted a therapist and will be starting therapy on the 23rd. In the meantime, we've been in contact via phone and email a couple of times. I wrote out the world's longest history on Saturday and sent it. Nothing like dragging up all my childhood emotional baggage to really get the blood pumping.

Immediately after sending that email to her, we took my 13 year old cat to the vet to be put to sleep. She had cancer and was fading fast. It was awful. I held her and talked to her until the end, and then David and I both sobbed for a little while. She is being cremated and some day I will spread her ashes with my dog's ashes somewhere nice. I'm relieved she's not in pain any more, but I still expect her to hop into bed with me, or come lay on the arm of the chair. She was part of my life before the kids, before David, before I was really even grown up. She loved me more than anyone else. She will be missed.

It's possible that the unexpected anxiety on Monday was related. Years ago when I had a lot of panic attacks, they would often hit a few days after a stressful event, not in the midst of it. So I suppose that makes sense.

I am functioning okay, I think. I am able to mostly enjoy the kids and see them through the haze of my brain. I don't feel cloudy and hopeless all the time. I just don't feel 100%. It still takes almost nothing to set off my anxiety. A headache or a pain in my side is an aneurysm or liver failure. Charlotte sleeps too long and her brain isn't aware enough. Tonight the story of a mom losing her son so SIDS threatened to push me over the edge. I've checked Charlotte's breathing a hundred times.

The kids and I are going to spend a week with my mother-in-law and I'm both looking forward to it and stressed. Being away from home for a week is stressful no matter what. Making sure we have everything we need for the kids is just a lot to keep track of. It also means no real Internet access for a week. (I'll have my wireless phone, but that's it.) It's scary how much I rely on the both the Internet and TV as a distraction when I'm tense. The noise of the TV can drown out my crazy thoughts. I have a few movies to take with me, but those will only go so far. Sometimes I can get lucky and catch a weak unsecured signal and check my email or something, but I can't count on it.

On the other hand, my mother-in-law is a great help and a good distraction herself. She will let me nap, make sure I'm fed, and entertain the kids, all while enjoying herself too. Not having to be alone all day is fantastic as I still get anxious about being alone with both kids all day. (Which is still stupid because I'm doing it most days and so far we're all doing fine, but anxiety is not rational.)

I go back to my OB for an anxiety check on the 23rd (same day as I start therapy) and I might ask about trying a different med. I feel like I could still be better. I want to still be better. I also still get a lot of shakiness as a side effect and I would love to be rid of that, too. I had good luck with Paxil years ago and it's cleared for nursing, so I'm hoping that might work better.

Those of you who have experience in this area, how much better did the meds REALLY make you? Realistically, 2 months into being medicated, how many bad days are you having? How severe? How regularly? I don't know what to expect. When I was on Paxil years ago, it was for panic attacks and it completely eradicated them.

But I've never not been an anxious person. That's part of my personality. And now it's been so regular since I've had Charlotte that I'm not sure how much is "Anxiety" and how much is "Trish." I'm not sure I know what normal is any more.

In non-anxiety related news, Charlotte is 2 months old today. I can't believe how quickly it's gone. She's doing great. She was supposed to have her 2 month appointment today but we got some snow today that inexplicably shut down the highway between here and the doctor so I had to reschedule. I do have a scale at home, so I can tell you that she's right around 8.5 pounds and quite a chunk. She's really a momma's girl and good-natured so long as she's held. Just don't try to put her down, okay?

Robbie's pretty much the best big brother ever. As worried as I was about jealousy, he's completely the opposite. The only trouble we have between them is that he wants to hug and kiss her 30 times a day, whether she's sleeping or not and sometimes his hugs are a little aggressive. But they're well-intentioned. He hugs her and says "aww.. I love you baby sissy." It's SO sweet.

Let's look at house cute they are:

Yes, Robbie has thousands of his own toys, but has spent the last 2 days playing with nothing but a toy rattle that looks like a phone.

I caught a sleep smile.

Napping on Daddy.

Is it time to eat yet?

Hi mom!

Smiles!

Who needs tumbling class when you have pillows?

My pants are as bright as I am.

--Trish

Looking forward

2012-01-05T00:13:00.005-06:00

I wish today had been as great as yesterday. It just wasn't. It wasn't awful. I only had one flash of panic that lasted only a few minutes. But the rest of the day I just felt "off." Kinda of cloudy and tense. The pain in my chest set in just after dark (is it spring yet?) and is still on-going. It's frustrating.

I'm doing everything I can think of to help. I try to get as much activity in during the day as I can. That mostly consists of housework, but I make a concentrated effort to walk around and make it as active as possible. I'm taking fish oil, vitamin D and a probiotic on top of my regular prenatal vitamin, folguard & Lexapro. I open the blinds the minute we're up and spend as much time in the sun as I can. Hell, tonight I ordered some full spectrum light bulbs. I am eating turkey and chicken & drinking milk for the triptophan (something about it being metabolized into serotonin. Just go with it.)

I'm doing relaxation breathing and techniques during the day. I sleep when I can (that's hard right now, though), and try to do something for myself in the evenings. (Usually a bath and a book for about 45 minutes.) I hired help a day or two a week. I have a great support system and when it gets bad, I call and talk to that support system. (I've never talked to my dad so much in my life and that's saying something because we've always been close.)

Maybe I'm just being impatient. I've been on meds for a month. I know it takes time. But it feels like that time is slipping away. I spend so much time wishing time away, waiting for David to get home, or bedtime or until the weekend when I don't have to be alone and feeling overwhelmed. I don't want to do that. The time goes by so fast as it is. I can't believe Robbie's 3.5 and Charlotte's almost 2 months old. I don't want to miss out on this time with them. But right now is just not good and I can't help but wishing that we could fast-forward to the time when things are better. Or would like to know when that time will be. I really need a crystal ball, I guess.

I am concentrating on things to look forward to. The week after next I'm going to my mother in law's for a week. David will be at home, but the kids and I will stay there. She's a great help. She works part time, so she'll mostly be around to help. And of course, it's win-win because she adores the kids and enjoys helping out and I'll not have to be alone and might get a nap once in a while.

And then just a couple of weeks after I get home from there, we'll be out of quarantine. Charlotte's doctor wanted 8 weeks past her due date, which is February 9. We'll get to leave the house. Heading out with two kids is a challenge, but honestly, even just being able to run to the grocery store or Target during the day would be freeing. Robbie needs out of the house and so do I.

I'm not sure when I'm sending Robbie back to preschool just yet. I'll discussing it with his pediatrician next week, but probably mid-late February. He'll go full days 2 days a week and then just preschool (2 hours a day) another 2. I'm going to keep him home on Fridays. I know he will enjoy it. I dropped some Christmas treats and a birth announcement off to the school last week and his teacher told me that the kids still include Robbie in their story telling. They miss him. It was nice to hear. I know he misses them. He tells me that kids in his books look like his classmates. Or asks to go to school or to Tumbling (which is at school on Tuesdays.) The social interaction is important. And of course, two days a week, I can sleep when Charlotte does. I think that is good for all of us, really.

In any case, those things are what I'm focusing on when I'm feeling low. Hoping that the better days are closer than they feel. I know some day these will seem like the best days, so I'm trying to pay attention while I'm in them.

--Trish

Improving again

2012-01-04T02:05:00.001-06:00

My thyroid results came back fine. I'm just crazy. I'm not really sure how I feel about that. It seems silly to wish for a health problem (thyroid issues) but then it would have been nice to have something with the hope of being fixed.

The increased dose of Lexapro (now 20mg) is helping, though. I changed doses on Friday. I spent most of Friday feeling pretty much like an anxious zombie. Saturday was a little better but I still had some time in the evening that wasn't pleasant and left me exhausted. I didn't see midnight on New Years for what I'm pretty sure is the first time in my entire adult life. Sunday was a little better still.

Monday was pretty nice with just a little tense feeling in the evening. The nanny was going to come on Tuesday but texted early on Monday to tell me she wasn't going to be able to after all (funeral) and it ALMOST got me. The biggest trigger I have is still feeling overwhelmed with the kids by myself. (Though I still can't tell you why. We're by ourselves all the time and so far so good, but it still gets me.) But I fought it off. I thought about all the days we've gotten through just fine and dandy and we managed. I had to really concentrate on fighting it off for a while, but Robbie and I had a tumbling, tickling match just before his bedtime and I was able to feel really present for that in spite of it. That was a major victory. Normally the last thing I can take when I'm feeling super tense is being bounced on, but we had fun.

Today is the first day I can say I felt sane all day. It was remarkable really. I forget how nice it feels to live my life. When I'm in the pit of anxiety I can list all my blessings, but I can't *FEEL* them. But when I have a day like today I can. It's such an odd feeling, really. I know that yesterday I felt hopeless and anxious. But today that feels like it was someone else. It's so surreal.

It really makes me understand why people stop taking their meds. You start to feel like that was all in your mind. You feel fine now so why take medicine? You must have just been having an off day. Of course, I realize that isn't the case, but it's amazing how distant the bad days feel on the good days. And on the bad days, it feels like there will never be good days again, so it really feels distant. It's hard to describe to anyone who hasn't felt it.

In maybe-related news, my period returned this week. Yes, at 7 weeks postpartum, despite the fact that I'm exclusively breastfeeding Charlotte. It returned at 8 weeks with Robbie, but I assumed that had to do with pumping instead of nursing. Apparently not. Apparently I'm just lucky like that. Honestly, we are 100% done with baby making so I could happily be done with those permanently but this sort of seems like insult to injury. I'm sure PMS is not adding to my mental stability here. I can't help but wonder if it was responsible for my resurgence of symptoms last week.

In any case, today was a better day. Hoping tomorrow is, too. Hoping for lots and lots of better days.

--Trish

P.S. If you haven't read http://thebloggess.com/2012/01/the-fight-goes-on/ this yet, you should. The Bloggess is one of the funniest writers on the web... and crazy like the rest of us.

Still anxious

2011-12-30T22:51:00.001-06:00

Almost as bad as the anxiety is the hopelessness.
Yesterday wasn't as bad as Wednesday, but still wasn't great. I called the doctor and asked for the thyroid test and about adjusting my meds. She approved both. I couldn't get to the lab yesterday but I had the blood drawn for the thyroid test today. I also doubled my Lexapro today.

The day today wasn't terrible. Not fantastic again, but not horrible. But tonight after dark, it really set in again. My husband came home a little early from work and I was so relieved. But then he went to get groceries and I felt like he'd left me. The anxiety just took over.

My face burned, my chest hurt, my stomach churned, my arms tingled. What was I worried about? I don't know. But there it was anyway. Awful. I tried to fake it. I tried to play with Robbie even though all I really wanted to do was crawl into bed and hide. I fed Charlotte even though I wanted to just get in the car and drive away from my fear. (As though it wouldn't come with me.)

After David got home, he was in the back with Robbie, Charlotte was nursing and I just started sobbing. I feel like I'm never going to be well. What if it's like this forever? What if the meds don't work? I feel like I'm missing my children's childhood because I'm barely functioning, walking around like a zombie. Sure, they're cared for. They're clean and fed and I think they feel loved. They are loved. But I'm just putting on a brave face much of the time. I'm doing what I am SUPPOSED to, not what I should want to. My kids deserve better.

Some friends checked on me and helped a little. David asked if I needed him to just come lay with me for a while. I'm blessed to have such a great support system. But I want to get BETTER. Truly better. I want to feel like me again. I want to feel like a good mom and a good wife and a good friend again. Right now I feel like an empty pit of need, sucking all the support from everyone around me.

What if I hit the bottom of that well? I don't know what I would do. I spend more time than I care to admit checking my phone or email or facebook for messages of support. They are literally one of the few things I look forward to during the day. That's shameful, but true. I keep waiting for someone to say the magic thing that will make it all better. I know that magic thing doesn't exist, but at least one more message of "I've been there and got through and am happy now" keeps me going for another hour or another day. Maybe some day I can get through, too. Right now it just doesn't feel like it. It feels unending.

What if the kids grow up to hate me because I'm just a shell of a person? I love them and want what's best for them, but right now I don't know how to be that. I'm trying. I'm truly trying. I've read everything written on increasing seratonin, lowering anxiety, good mental health. But I still have nights like tonight where I feel like my life is just a series of waiting for the next breakdown.

We all deserve more than this.

--Trish

Worse

2011-12-28T23:01:00.002-06:00

First the good stuff:
Thanks for everyone's kind words. I'm down about 60 pounds from last September. The first 30 were before I got pregnant, on purpose and hard-earned. The other 30 are a combination of pregnancy metabolism, the fact that I ate SUPER-HEALTHY when pregnant (nothing processed, very little eating out, sodium under 2000 mg a day etc.) and then the anxiety renders my appetite almost non existent.
I hope I'm able to maintain it while stuck at home with two small children. We'll see.

And then the bad:
Today has been my worst anxiety day yet. I actually woke up to feed Charlotte about 5 and my left breast hurt SO bad. My brain immediately went to mastitis because I've been asked about it 100 times since I'm having the nipple problem. I decided I didn't have a fever and didn't feel cruddy, so it was probably just a clogged duct. So I fed her on that side and rubbed the hell out of the sore area.

When she ate again at 7, it still hurt and I had a bruise. But I still felt overall the same. I double checked with some friends that I would KNOW if I had mastitis, and again concluded it was a plugged duct. So I nursed on that side again and sure enough, she was able to clear it.

However, the anxiety had begun. I was facing a 12+ hour day alone with the kids and just thinking about it made me literally quiver in fear. I tried to self talk. I prayed. I tried distraction. Nothing was working. I eventually contacted a former teacher from Robbie's daycare who I've remained friends with and arranged for her to come help out for a few hours in the afternoon. I felt relief and waited for the anxiety to ease. I'd fixed all the problems, right?

But it JUST. WOULDN'T. STOP.
All day. All damned day.

Even when Liz got here, I had help and a great distraction and I could get it to ease for 10 minutes at a time, but then it would come raging back. Liz commented that she could tell when it got better and worse. She was great, but could only stay a few hours. I dreaded her leaving.

After she left, I ended up calling my dad and talking for 2 hours. I just need to keep my brain distracted. It doesn't turn the anxiety off, but it keeps me from spiralling further and further downward. My dad is sick (just a cold, nothing serious), so he can't come over like he normally would, but he talked to me and to Robbie and just basically kept me company. I love my dad so much.

I can't say today was a banner day in parenting. Robbie watched three episodes of Sesame Street and some random cartoons when, at one point, he took himself to my bedroom and turned them on himself. I was nursing Charlotte and honestly just relieved he was distracted and out of trouble. But I suppose they're both alive and fed and sometimes that's just got to be enough.

After Robbie went to bed, another friend called and distracted me for several more hours. I'm very blessed to have people willing to distract me when I need it. There isn't much that can be done, but I'm grateful that they are willing to do what they can.

When I finally hung up with her, I took my blood pressure. 154/96. It's been VERY good lately (I'm talking 120/70) so that wasn't welcome. Probably the anxiety. Or maybe it's spiking and that's what is driving some of the anxiety. I don't know.

I know that I'm going to call the doctor for the billionth time tomorrow and ask for some lab tests for my thyroid and maybe some other vitamin tests to see if there's something more global going on and discussing my lexapro dosage if those are normal. This is awful and I can't live like this. I can't be a mess all day. I can't be scared of my own children. This needs to stop.

--Trish

Two steps back

2011-12-28T00:55:00.000-06:00

Well, this week is not shaping up to be as great as last week anxiety wise.

Christmas was nice. The kids were adorable. Charlotte obviously mostly slept through it, but Robbie had a great time. He was a little frustrated that he had to keep putting toys down to open more presents, but you know.. first world problems!

My mother-in-law and brother-in-law, as well as my dad all joined us in the morning for gift opening and then a big lunch. Everyone had a good time watching Robbie with his stuff and we even managed to genuinely surprise my brother in law (who is a great guy) with his gift (a pack of baseball tickets) which was fun. These days we rarely get to really surprise anyone.

They had also all had Christmas Eve dinner with us (we always do something low-key and casual. This year was taco salad.) and we just hung out and chatted and played with the kids. It was nice.

Unfortunately my brain apparently didn't get the message that I was HAPPY. Each night, a little anxiety rolled in. Friday was pretty minor and only lasted about an hour. Saturday it lasted several hours, but was low level. Sunday was an hour but pretty severe. Last night wasn't too bad.

Today was a doozy. The day started with some confusion with my mother's helper. She didn't come today as I had expected. (We had a miscommunication. She's a fantastic girl and very reliable.) That should be no big deal, but between the change in plans and being worried about her, I spent a good hour this morning just feeling jittery and anxious. I ended up calling my dad and just talking through it.

This afternoon I had my 6 week postpartum check with my OB and then dinner with friends. The doctor's appointment went really well. She wrote for Diflucan for my maybe-thrush, did my PAP, answered a few questions, but mostly we cooed over the kids. Charlotte's middle name actually came from the phlebotomist in the office and she finally got to meet her namesake. It was super fun. (Yes, I know. I'm a freak who has fun at OB appointments.)

Dinner was also fun. It was a couple of preemie mom friends, one of whom lives in Seattle and we had a nice conversation, decent food and excellent ice cream.

Unfortunately towards the end of dinner, I could feel the anxiety trying to creep in. All the way home, I tried to self-talk myself through it. It's just anxiety, it's not real. It's a chemical reaction in the body, nothing is wrong. Everything is fine, it's just a misfiring of something in the brain. Take deep breaths. Relax. Relax. Relax. It didn't work.

I came home, tucked Robbie into bed and then headed for the bathtub. Charlotte was fed and sleeping soundly (way to go, David!) so I was free for a bit. I laid in the tub and tried to read. Usually that's a good way to shut off my brain, but tonight it wasn't working. I couldn't focus on my book and the bath started off too hot and ended up too cold and my brain kept wondering if Charlotte was okay. (even though I could both see and hear her from where I was.) Anxiety is not reasonable. I prayed. I repeated some comforting phrases. It did not work.

I got out and tried to physically shake it off. No go. I went and asked David to come lay with me because I was feeling anxious. My amazing husband just said "uh oh" and hopped up to come help me. He rubbed my back a while but I ended up feeling more tense, not less. I got up and jogged in place, trying to burn the energy off. Sometimes that helps. No luck.

By this time, Charlotte needed to be fed. I tried to focus myself and sat down to nurse her. I asked David to just talk to me. Tell me anything, just distract my brain. David's not really one to blather on but he did just that. And finally I could feel it ease a little. If he'd stop talking, it would creep back up, but eventually is started to ease. Total duration nearly 3 hours.

Three hours is a long time to sweat and shake and feel your heart pound. And that's after the hour or so this morning. It freaking sucks. And I don't know WHY. Yes, today was not a usual day, but most of the time, being about to get out of the house helps, not hurts. So I don't know.

I discussed the anxiety with my doctor today, of course. I told her it had been much better last week, but then bad again this weekend. But still trending upward. She wants me to go back in a month to reevaluate, but call if things get worse. I'm not ready to say I need to call yet, but this isn't a trend I'm enjoying right now.

I was thinking tonight that maybe I should have my thyroid checked. Anxiety can be a symptom of thyroid issues and pregnancy can cause them. It's probably a long shot, but I'm feeling desperate. It's probably "just" hormonal, but I just want something to FIX me. I'm sick of this.

David assures me that I'm being a good mom even when I'm in the midst of the worst of it, but I don't FEEL like one when it's going on. I'm 6.5 weeks postpartum and I really just want to leave behind the worry and stress of pregnancy. I just want to get on with enjoying my children.

So, if you're still up for some praying, I could use a few more. We need more days like last week and NO more like today. And while you're at it, think some good thoughts for my nipple. Hoping this round of Diflucan does the trick.

And so as not to end on a down note, how about a few Christmas pictures?

--Trish

Charlotte Clause

Note the blue lips of Gentian Violet.

Robbie on his new cell phone.

Grandpa helping open a present.

The classic "picture of you, taking picture of me taking a picture of you."

Hugs for sissy.

Hang on, just let me check my email real quick...

I love you, Charlotte.

Brotherly Love

Robbie Mouse

The week

2011-12-23T02:29:00.002-06:00

I am going to officially call this a good week. It wasn't perfect, but it was so much better than last week and it doesn't even belong on the same calendar as the week before last, so it was good.
I've had 6 days of feeling like myself. There have been moments of panic that have seeped in, but it's been brief enough and mild enough that I can work through it and do okay. I've spent full days alone with the kids without watching the minutes tick by on the clock until David gets home. I've smiled and laughed genuinely. I've had an appetite (and then some) and interest in things besides laying in bed. It's good.

Tonight I walked out to the living room right at dusk and felt the old panic feeling set in. Dusk was a huge trigger. But it hadn't happened in several days and I hadn't thought to steel myself for it. Fortunately I recognized what was happening right away and was able to close up the blinds (dark is better than dusk) and it eased again. Anxiety is weird. And sneaky. But Lexapro is stronger.

Truthfully, I think it's a combination of things. The Lexapro for sure, getting further from delivery (6 weeks now) and I really think that coming off of the Labetelol helped a lot, too. My blood pressures have been great. There have been a 2 or 3 spikes in the last week, but mostly 130/80 or below. The last few days have really been in the 120s/70s. That's better than it was before I got pregnant, so that's awesome. I'm sure that's attributable to being 60 pounds lighter than I was a year ago.

In other news, I started a round of gentian violet tonight for my thrush. I spoke to the nurse about the issue but she and/or my OB don't seem to think it's thrush. The reasoning she gave me was that Charlotte is asymptomatic and because my breasts don't have streaks. But streaks could be a sign of mastitis, not thrush, so that makes no sense whatsoever to me. She told me to call a lactation consultant.

On the other hand, I was on antibiotics during delivery, another round afterward, I had a yeast infection after the 2nd round. I've had no pain with nursing for nearly 6 weeks and all of a sudden it's major. It gets worse at night. It lasts through the nursing session and after. This is all consistent with thrush. I did confirm that with a doula friend. Everyone seems to agree it's most likely thrush.

However, because they didn't take me seriously, I did some more reading and it seems like gentian violet is the better option anyway. It's cheaper, has few side effects and works both more quickly and more reliably. It's just messier.

I had to have the GV ordered through the pharmacy. In the mean time, I started vinegar washes and probiotics to try to contain it. Things have improved a little but still aren't great. My left breast still kills, particularly in the evenings. I did my first GV treatment tonight, though. Both Charlotte's lips and my nipples are a lovely shade of purple. Of course, she promptly spit up afterwards (she's a spitter) which also left a lovely blue stain on the blanket I had under her and the pillowcase because it soaked through to the pillow. Oh well. I'd gladly buy all new linens to keep my boob from feeling like it is being ground in a grinder every time I nurse.

I really do enjoy nursing, even with the thrush trouble. She's doing really well. She's been gaining around an ounce per day. She's up to 6 pounds 12 ounces as of tonight. She came home from the hospital at 4lb 12oz, so she's a full 2 pounds heavier now. She's still tiny, but she feels like a chunk to me these days. And it feels really good to know I've been able to do that for her all on my own. My body is keeping her alive and thriving.

I realize that technically it was before she was born, too. But to be frank, it felt like she was surviving in my womb IN SPITE of my body, not because of it. Now it feels like something is actually going right. What a concept.

In any case, it does feel like the spiral of depression has shifted. As my anxiety has improved, everything else has, and has everything else has, my anxiety has. Obviously things aren't perfect. My cat still has cancer (and isn't doing well, I'm afraid. I don't think we have a lot longer with her. Every time Robbie hugs her, my heart breaks a little more.) I still have an anxiety disorder and thrush. Charlotte is still a preemie and we're still in quarantine. But we're so far ahead of where we were a week or two ago, I know we're going to get through it.

Hope lives.

--Trish

Good day

2011-12-20T00:36:00.005-06:00

Today was a really good day. Really good. There were maybe 20 total minutes where I felt a little out of sorts, but otherwise, I felt like me all day. The best part is how great my kids are. It feels so good to FEEL that. I also didn't shake today. At all, I think.

Saturday was sort of so-so. Sunday was pretty decent. Today was really great. I did take my pill earlier today than usual, so maybe that was part of it. I took it at lunch instead of late afternoon. Since the worst time of the day is usually right around dusk, I thought I should get it in and at full strength a few hours before that. I had been taking it just before dusk thinking it would be strongest right away, but I think maybe it takes a little longer than that to kick in.

The only bad thing I can say about today is that I think I'm getting thrush. Holy crap does my left nipple hurt. My right one has been a little sore, but NOTHING like leftie. It takes my breath away when she starts nursing and hurts the whole time. I've tried relatching her a dozen times, nursing in a different position and what not and nothing seems to matter. I'll call the doctor tomorrow.

Apparently I have a few risk factors including having been on antibiotics during and after delivery and a recent regular yeast infection. So.. you know.. lucky me. That was actually one of the causes of my few minutes of anxiety today. I had a brief flash of worrying it was mastitis (no basis for that. That was just Crazy Thought Anxiety at play) and freaked out a little, but I talked myself down. But I really do think that at worst it's thrush (which sucks, but is just annoying, not a huge deal) and at best it's a blister or something. (Though I can't see a blister or anything.)

Anyway, today is my 2 weeks Lexapro anniversary, so this is the point where people said they started feeling better, both emotionally and from the side effects, and I'm here to say that I must be experiencing the same thing. I hope it continues and I think it will. I know there will be drops again and I just dread it. I hate the down part of ups and downs, but right now it feels so good to actually have ups again that I'm just trying to take it one day at a time. Today was a good one.

--Trish

2 1/2

2011-12-17T00:13:00.001-06:00

I'm going to call it a good 2 1/2 days.

This morning I felt a little more anxious than I had, but it wasn't too bad. And most of the day was okay. Not as great as the last 2, but not terrible. Manageable.

Tonight, it came back. I got a headache and instantly my brain was convinced I was having a stroke. My blood pressure was a little up (not horrible, just not great) probably as a result of the anxiety, so you know, my brain turned on me. Nevermind the complete lack of other symptoms or the fact that the headache wasn't even very bad. Reason is not a factor here. They call it "intrusive thoughts." I call it "crazy."

I tried to my breathing exercises, then some actual exercise. It was just before Robbie's bedtime, so I got him to bed, fed Charlotte and then told David I was going to take a bath and read a bit. I hoped the combination of the bath and the distraction of reading would help. It did a little, but I still got out feeling what I can only describe as a slight sense of dread. Dread of what? Who the hell knows?

This is the way I used to feel before I'd have panic attacks. Like something bad was going to happen. No clue what, but something. And then the panic attacks would start. I really hope the lexapro keeps them at bay because they suck. Of course, even talking about that is making me more anxious. Nothing like being anxious about being anxious. I'm the picture of mental health, really.

Right now, I just hope tomorrow is better than tonight. I'll try to get some sleep, and David's going to try to get me out of the house as well. I'm hoping for a trip to Target and maybe even the grocery store. I'm a party animal, I know.

I don't feel as hopeless as I have. Even though tonight has been kinda crappy, I'm still way better than a week ago. And the fact that I had 2 good days in a row has been encouraging. Hopefully this is just a blip in the radar and things will generally continue to improve.

I'm now 5 weeks post-partum. Hoping that my hormones continue to regulate, too. Six weeks often seems to be a good point for that. Maybe this week will bring improvements from multiple areas.

Thanks for continues to root for me. This anxiety nonsense is horrid.

Trish

two in a row

2011-12-15T23:51:00.000-06:00

Today was a lot like yesterday. The shaking was minimal- more like I'd had too much caffeine than like I needed to score some heroine. The anxiety was manageable. Not absent, but manageable. It started to creep in not long before my next dose of lexapro was due, which I think is actually a positive sign.

I found myself interacting with the kids more genuinely. When Charlotte was awake, I truly felt inspired by her adorableness. When Robbie asked for "Mommy to sing?" at bedtime, I happily pulled Charlotte off my boob (something that usually would annoy me) to go fulfill his sweet request. I snuggled him because I wanted to, not because I "should."

I'm sure it helped that Charlotte did give me a 4 hour stretch last night. (well, she went 4 hours between feedings, that gave me about 3.25 hours of sleep at once) Then another 2 hours. That's a lot of sleep for me lately. The nanny was also here this morning, which is always nice. We ended up piled into my room to have breakfast and watch cartoons this morning. It may not sound like the most exciting thing, but it's a nice relaxing morning.

I could tell I was doing better because I ate two real meals today. One of the symptoms of the anxiety has been an overwhelming lack of appetite. That's really out of character for me. I didn't get to be as large as I am because I don't eat. But I'm currently 32 pounds under my pre-pregnancy weight. I'm down more than 60 pounds since this time last year. I can't keep my pants up. Sounds like a good problem to have. And if I were losing in any kind of healthy way, it would be, but honestly even the thought of food has made my stomach hurt lately. So today when I found myself suddenly starving, I thought "hey! That's normal! YAY NORMAL!" Of course, I proceeded to consume a week's worth of calories today, but whatever. Maybe tomorrow's batch of boob juice will be extra fatty for my little peanut.

Speaking of which, today was her due date. She's officially zero "adjusted." She's supposed to be here now. Amazing that she's almost 5 weeks old, but is just now officially a newborn. I'm so glad she's doing well. I read something earlier about another baby born at 36 weeks who spent nearly a week in the NICU and counted my blessings again. She is amazing.

Anyway, I really hope that this trend (what, 2 days can be a trend!) of feeling mostly normal (at least functional!) continues. My blood pressures have also been decent and I think that's partly due to the controlled anxiety, as well. I'm learning a few tricks along the way to help myself, and counting on the drugs to do their job as well. And still re-reading your success stories to give me hope as well. Thank you all a thousand times for sharing your stories and offering your thoughts and prayers. Yet again, I'm humbled by everyone's honesty and support.

Trish

Tomorrows

2011-12-14T23:15:00.002-06:00

Today was better. And worse.

There is always a brief moment when I first wake up in the morning where I feel groggy but okay. But within a few minutes, I know if it's going to start. This morning, I thought "Hmm, I feel okay. We'll see." A few minutes later, I started to tremble and thought that was it. Except it never really ramped up all the way.

It was a hectic morning. Charlotte had her 1 month check-up and I was taking both kids with me by myself for the first time. Our nanny came to help me get them ready, so I wasn't totally on my own, but she could only stay long enough for that, not to come with us. As one of my biggest fears is being alone with the kids, that was pretty scary. But we managed.

Getting out of the house felt good. I mean really good. Just driving in the car felt like some freedom. Robbie was super perky, too. I think he was glad to be out of our walls as well. Quarantine is hard.

The appointment went great. Charlotte is up to 6lb 3oz, more than a pound gain since her last check up. Her tone and reflexes were were better than average. Our pediatrician was overjoyed. We don't have to go back for a month. Robbie was very cooperative minus a little whining about wanting to be carried, but he got over it quickly. Of course, the poor guy got a flu shot for his reward. Oops. But it's for everyone's good.

His fever from yesterday is magically gone. The doc chalked it up to a diurnal temperature shift and wasn't worried. Phew. We headed home. I was still feeling good. Just the faintest hint of shakiness, but my mind was clear.

At one point, Robbie started talking to the receptionist in a cute fashion and I chuckled. Then I realized "wow, I just laughed. For real." I froze and just took it in. It felt good. Real laughter is rare right now.

At home, Robbie ate lunch slowly and instead of being impatient, I was able to sit with him and convince him to eat a little more. I pulled him onto my lap and snuggled him a while. He beamed and it felt really good. This is what motherhood is supposed to feel like. This is what it felt like a few months ago. I want it to feel that way again.

After he went down for a nap, Charlotte and I took one, too. My fluffy cat, Contessa, joined us. It felt good. Everything felt better today.

When we woke up, the jittering was back. It was also time for my medicine, so I took it and hope it wouldn't amp everything up.

The evening wasn't so great, but in a less expected way. Contessa has been rapidly losing weight and had a vet appointment to check her out tonight. My dad took her. He called and told me it was bad news. She has cancer.

She has been with me 13 years. She was a 9 week old fluffball at the human society when I adopted her in 1998. I was barely making minimum wage, dating losers. She's seen me through a lot of changes. And now her time is limited. We don't know how long. She has an orange sized mass on her organs on the left side. The doctor can't tell if it's her spleen or kidneys, but it's large and irregularly sized. She's 13 years old and clearly failing. We opted not to pursue testing as the chances of treatment and surgery doing much to prolong her life with any quality is slim. We are very sad.

There were lots of tears in our house, but it didn't send me over the edge like I was afraid it would. I worried about how to explain things to Robbie. I worried about David (who cried in spite of really not being one to do so) but I worried about them in a normal, sad, grieving way. I've spent lots of time petting her tonight.

Eventually I realized the shaking had stopped again. And my mind has stayed clear. My blood pressure has also been normal. It's hard to call it a good day with the news about Contessa, but I can say it could have been a worse day. The news could have come yesterday and I'm not sure I could have taken it. So I'll thank God for small blessings.

Thank you for everyone's support. I do not know what tomorrow will bring. Perhaps another stable day. Perhaps not. If there's one thing that the news about my kitty reminds us, it's that we have to take each day one at a time. There are no guarantees about tomorrow.

--Trish

bad day

2011-12-13T22:29:00.002-06:00

It's been a bad anxiety day. David has a cold and Robbie has had a very low fever all day long. So on top of my completely irrational anxiety, I've had actual things to worry about. It's not been a good day.

I'm hoping that it may also relate to some BP meds as well. I'll explain.

Last night, my blood pressure was high (150/90) again and I was feeling pretty crummy. Eventually I decided to take an extra dose of labetelol. About 20 minutes after I did that, everything went really blurry. I mean, REALLY blurry. In an effort to convince myself I wasn't having a stroke, I did some googling and found that blurred vision is a side effect of the medication. So I felt better. But while I was reading, I came across a note that another side effect is "Mood changes (depression)" and was just floored.

Now, I somehow doubt that it's responsible for everything I've been experiencing. I have a history of anxiety anyway, and a lot of other things going on. But the notion that it could be aggravating it just left me flabbergasted. And hopeful. Maybe if I could get off the labetalol, I'd feel a little better?

Then I went back and looked and that one day I had where I felt really good was last Wednesday. On Monday, we had cut my dose of BP meds by 2/3. Maybe the reduction in meds had given me a little mood boost? I hoped.

Of course, I had taken a bigger dose than usual yesterday and then I felt worse than usual today. So I'm hoping my theory will work out.

I called the doctor and asked about stopped the med. She gave her blessing to give it a try. Of course, I have to watch my pressures closely and call if the spike up again. But if that happens, we'll try a different med. I'd obviously prefer not to need any blood pressure medication at all, but if I do, hopefully a different drug will have fewer side effects. Even just the double vision is obnoxious and if it truly is contributing to my anxiety, I really don't need that.

In the mean time, I'm just trying to get through the day. I have tried to breathe through the worst of it, but the waves of panic have been incredibly overwhelming today. It's definitely been a day where all I want to do is crawl in bed and hide. Robbie did sleep in this morning and then the nanny was here for 2 hours so it should have been an easier than usual day, but Robbie then didn't nap and all the worries about germs and Charlotte.. well, it just wasn't.

On the other hand, my amazing friend Amy sent me a book this week. It's been Beth Moore, "Praying God's Word." She sent it in response to my confession that I was having trouble finding the words to pray. There is a section on battling depression, which is where I started. Depression and anxiety go hand in hand. I'm only a few pages in (time is a commodity, after all) but it's already resonating with me. I read some of the passages aloud and did feel some peace.

The one that brought me close to tears:
Lord God, I am hard pressed on every side, but I don't have to be crushed; I am perplexed, but I do not have to be in despair. (2 Cor. 4:8)

I do feel pressed on every side. I feel like I can't win no matter which way I turn. If I'm tending to Charlotte, I'm not tending to Robbie. If I'm tending to Robbie, I'm not tending to Charlotte. David's almost completely left out of the equation. In trying to care for the kids, I feel like I can't devote 100% to trying to heal myself (even is as much as I can't take any med available because I'm nursing.) And if I'm doing something to try to soothe my nerves (a bath, reading, whatever) I'm not tending to any of them. All I really want is for someone to come save me. Who? I don't know. If I had a real mother, I'd say her. But I don't. I want my mother-in-law to come, but she has a job and it's not her responsibility. It's no one's responsibility but mine. And I feel like I'm letting everyone down.

Don't get me wrong, I'm getting through the day. The kids are fed and clean seem content. But it's all fake. I have to force myself to use a soft tone when I speak. I have to force myself to smile at something sweet. I have to force myself to get up and do.. well.. anything. All I really want to do is hide in my bed with the door closed. And then I feel so guilty about that because I know that's not normal. It's not normal for a mom and it's not normal for ME. I love my kids.

There is this picture from the day Charlotte was born where they've just brought her to me to hold for the first time. I look happy. I was happy. I couldn't wait to get my hands on my baby girl. My perfect, beautiful, healthy baby girl. I wanted to hold her forever.

Looking back, the anxiety started within the next few days. It was partly the pre-e. I was sick and felt like crap and couldn't hold her. I didn't want to because I felt so weak and sickly. What I wanted was to sleep and just feel better. What I realize is that it never really changed at that point. I hold her because she needs to be held, because it's what I'm supposed to do. Because it keeps her from crying. But it's not that burning desire to get my hands on my baby girl the way I felt in that photo. I don't feel anything that strongly except panic and fear.

I don't even know what I'm afraid of half the time. I'm afraid when I'm alone with the kids. Of what? I don't know. I mean, I've done it day in and day out. And so far, we've managed. You would think that would build confidence. I'm okay. I'm doing this. The kids are amazing. But I'm still scared of something.

I wish I could enjoy them. I keep thinking any day now. I keep reading your comments and emails about how one day, you just did. And I keep hoping that tomorrow is that day. But so far it's not. And when I have a day like today that is worse than even usual, it's hard to feel like the day is really coming. I want to have hope. I NEED hope. But it is incredibly elusive, more elusive than I've ever found it to be.

Truthfully if it weren't for Charlotte and Robbie, I'd probably stop the meds. I'd just give in to the urge to crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head. Maybe drug myself up with some Xanax, but maybe just google all my paranoid symptoms into oblivion. But even though I can't feel what I should, I love the kids and I know they deserve a mom. Even if the best I can give them is a fake mom, they need at least that. My mom checked out physically. I know how that feels. I know first hand the damage it does. I can't do that to them. So I keep pasting the fake smiles on and moving forward.

All I can do at this point is hope that tomorrow is that magical day where I can see through the darkness again. I'll keep praying. And keep asking you to pray. It's all I've got.

--Trish

Light?

2011-12-11T23:34:00.001-06:00

I wish I could say if things are better or not. I truly can't tell. The side effects are still pretty awful. I shake like a leaf most of the day. The groggy feeling in my brain comes and goes.

The last two days, I think I've spent fewer hours in a panic, but the panics themselves have been even more severe.

Last night I started to have chest pain fairly bad and that sent me into a wave of panic. In all likelihood it was heartburn, but of course, my warped mind was convinced I was having a heart attack. My great-grandfather has a heart attack and died at 42. I'm 35. My blood pressure has been high for so long, maybe it's done some damage. Then I took my blood pressure- 180/106. Ouch.

It had bottomed out earlier in the day and I'd gotten light-headed. I was convinced we were going to stop my meds soon, but that was ugly. Of course, I have no way of knowing if the panic made my blood pressure high or if my blood pressure high made me panicky or if the two things were unrelated. I took my medicine a little early. It took a while, but it finally came down.

Today it ran a little high most of the day, though. I don't get it. It's been good again for a week, but here we are. Tonight it started to spike a little bit, but I tried not to take the meds. Maybe it's a rebounding effect? I don't know. I just know I'm sick of this.

I just want to feel normal again. When everything clears, everything around me seems so bright and beautiful. Sitting here tonight after my nightly panic cleared, I sat and sang to Charlotte for a while. She was wide awake and just looking at me curiously, enjoying the music. It was such a happy feeling. But by morning, I'll be shaking and groggy again. And then the panic will come and then I can't feel anything except fear. It's a horrible feeling.

I'm trying to give the meds enough time to work, to kick in and for the side effects to wane, but as the days go on, I feel like I'm stuck like this forever. I wonder if I'll ever just be able to go about my day and not think that the pain my temple is a stroke or the chest pain is a heart attack or if Robbie is eating enough or if Charlotte is getting enough interaction or if I'd really just ruined them forever. I remember the dark days of Robbie's first year and I know I came out of it. But they weren't this severe, either.

I'm really hanging on to the stories of those of you who have been through this. If you tell me there is lightness at the end, I'm going to believe that there is. I just hope I get to see it soon.

Trish

Still digging

2011-12-09T21:28:00.001-06:00

Pretty sure most of what I felt during the day today was med side effects. Just a low level anxious feeling, mostly jittery.

Tonight, though, the "real" anxiety rolled in again. It's still coming and going.

I have prayed and breathed and concentrated on relaxing. It helps briefly and then the waves come back again. I wish I understood it.I got a few hours more sleep than average last night (three 2 hour increments) and then a nap last this afternoon. The nap wasn't very restful. It was shortly after I took my meds and it was punctuated by twitching and jerking. (That WILL end, right?) But it was still a nap.

Things are honestly good here. Charlotte is growing well. I weighed her today and she's up to 5 pound 12.5 ounces. She's thriving. Robbie seems happy and well adjusted. Between David, my dad, and our mother's helper, he's getting a lot of individual attention even though I can't usually be the one to give it to him. David's been amazing taking care of all of us. My friends have been supportive and compassionate. I have absolutely nothing to be worried about. Nothing. Life doesn't get a lot better than this.

But out of nowhere, the panic just rolls in. My stomach drops, my arms tingle, my muscles tense. That sets my brain spinning. My reading tells me it's because the brain is seeking a "reason" for the panic. It'll invent one if it can't find one. Robbie's bored, Charlotte's unhappy, David's going to get sick of it, that pain in my stomach/chest/head/whatever is something Very Serious. Tonight I found myself thinking "what if it's like this forever?" It just kept rolling in my mind. What if it's like this forever?

I know I've only been on the meds for 5 days. It takes weeks, even months for them to fully work. And there are other meds to try if it comes to that. I know that I've had some clear moments in the last few days where I felt genuinely good. I know all of that in my head, but the fear is there. I need to feel all the way better at some point. Because this sucks.

I really appreciate everyone's continued support. If you were on meds (especially Lexapro) for anxiety could you share how long it took you to stop having the waves of panic? I could use some hope that things will continue to improve. When I feel good, the hope is so strong. But when I'm in the midst of the panic (now) it feels so hopeless. For as much as I've fought hope for all the years of this blog, it's always been in there... just deeply hidden. Right now I'm having trouble digging it out.

Trish

Day 4

2011-12-08T23:57:00.001-06:00

Today wasn't like yesterday, I'm afraid. It was a rough night with about 2 hours of sleep, which I'm sure contributed. I spent most of the day feeling foggy, shaky, sad, and nervous. They are again working on the road in front of my house, using some sort of heavy equipment which literally makes my house shake. It's not a good combination.

I managed the kids okay by myself this morning, but honestly was just praying for nap time. When Robbie asked to go down for a nap 15 minutes earlier than usual, I could have cried with relief. Sign me up for mother of the year.

A friend visited briefly, and then the nanny came. God I was glad to see her. After she got here, I left her to wait for Robbie to wake up from his nap, I took my pill, and then Charlotte and I had a nap.

I woke up feeling a little groggy, and still shaky, but not awful. Most of the evening, I felt a low level of anxiety, but not the debilitating, skin-crawling version I usually get after sundown.

And then a surprising thing happened. Just after 8:30, it cleared. I stopped trembling and my head cleared. I was able to tuck Robbie into bed with a genuine smile instead of a forced one. It felt good.

I took advantage of the lucidity and accomplished a few household tasks. It felt good to feel useful. It's now just after midnight and I'm still doing okay. I don't know if I'll wake up feeling the same, but I'm enjoying these glimpses at normalcy. Hope is here. To stay?

Trish

Maybe tomorrow

2011-12-08T00:37:00.001-06:00

I woke up this morning and immediately thought "wow, I feel good."
I mean, I felt GOOD. Like me. Good. Even Charlotte was exceptionally perky this morning. I got Robbie up and he was grumpy, but it was mostly just funny, not nerve wracking.

The morning was hectic. Charlotte nursed almost non-stop this morning and of course, Robbie needed me approximately every 32 seconds, so I was a little frazzled. But it was a good, normal, expected frazzled. At one point I actually said aloud "oh good, they're both crying at the same time. Perfect." all I could do was shrug and put out one fire at a time. And then I marveled at how glad I was that I was feeling human.

The good feelings lasted all day. It was so nice to just enjoy life. I thought man, I've got this licked.

At 4:45, I took my pill. At 5:30, the world started to cave in a little. And then it let up a bit again. I did some breathing exercises, which helped a little. But by 7:30, I'd fallen back into the hole and couldn't climb out. All I wanted to do was climb into bed and pull the covers over my head. So I did just that.

Of course, when you have a 3 year old, any climbing into bed just means mommy trampoline time. How do you explain to your toddler than right now the air is making you crazy, so please standing on my head is really not the best choice right now. David ended up giving him a bath and putting him to bed alone. Charlotte and I dozed. I twitched a lot. The fact that I could sleep at all was probably progress. Two days ago I could barely sit down during an attack, so sleeping is probably indicative of a reduction in symptoms. I just wish it felt less scary.

After I woke up, I felt a little better. I fed Charlotte and thought it had passed, but waves have come and gone since then. It's now a little after 1 and all the remains is some chest pain and trembly hands.

It's impossible to know what is the "usual" panic and what is a side effect of the medicine. All I know is that when I feel like this, it feels forever. Today's glimpse at feeling normal is what I'm holding onto right now. If I could feel it today, I can feel it again. Maybe even tomorrow?

Trish

Lexapro day 2

2011-12-07T01:43:00.001-06:00

I'm going to call today an improvement. The beginning of the day most definitely was NOT. I started the day with anxiety. It's not usually really bad during the day, so I was surprised and not in a good way.

I ended up calling my dad mid-morning and asking if he'd come by after he got off work. God bless my dad. He had actually planned to leave a little early anyway, so he came and played with Robbie for 3 hours until David got home. I sat in the recliner like a zombie, moving only to feed Charlotte.

The anxiety actually began to lift around noon, but I was left exhausted and numb. Maybe it was the drugs, maybe it was recovery from being so tense, maybe it was just plain old mom-of-a-3-week-old tiredness. I don't know.

I had already called my doctor's office about the side effects. I was pretty sure there wasn't much they could do, but I figured I'd give it a shot. I'm to the point where I'm embarrassed when they answer the phone now. It's me again. They've been nothing but kind, of course. I'm not really a fan of being so needy and I feel like I'm sucking the love and attention out of everyone around me. But it's all I can do right now.

I was right, there's not much they can do. Because I'm nursing, there are limited options. She assured me the side effects should fade in the first week. All I could do was thank her, hang up, and hope she was right. And wonder how I'd survive like this for a week.

I took my 2nd dose of lexapro this evening and waiting for it to hit me. No flash of heat overtook me, no instant tingling or panic set in right away. My body seems to be adjusting quickly, so maybe she's right about the week.

This evening, the anxiety creeped back in around 7:30. My hands started shaking again, my stomach churning, even dry heaving at one point. (One bonus of having no appetite- nothing to puke!) It wasn't *quite* as intense as it gets sometimes. I worked through some breathing exercises that haven't been working at all, but I was able to lower the intensity a little more. At this point, I'll call that a win.

Around 9:30, I felt it start to lift a little. I was surprised because it usually lasts at least 4 hours, sometimes as many as 6. Two felt like winning the lottery. It did start to bounce back a little, but I worked on my breathing again and was able to maintain some control of it. Around 10:00, Charlotte and I took a 45 minute nap. That was pretty major because normally when this happens, I can barely sit, I most certainly can't lay and I definitely can't sleep.

It wasn't the most restful sleep ever. I kept waking up jerking a little. But it was sleep and when I woke after 45 minutes, the anxiety was gone. I felt hope again. I thought of the kids and I smiled. David checked on me and I smiled at him. I feel like a person. The world is not caving in on me, after all.

I do hope that it continues. Maybe I'll wake up in a panic again tomorrow, but I am going to cling to this moment where I feel like there is light at the end of the tunnel. My blood pressures have been great on the lower dose of blood pressure meds, so hopefully I'll see and end to them very soon. And maybe one day I'll get through a whole day w/o wondering if today is the day I need to be checked in somewhere. (which was the focus of the crazy thoughts tonight, for the record.)

I do appreciate all the messages of support. When I'm in the darkest points of the panic, when I can barely move, all I do is sit and read the emails and comments and texts. They are what is feeding my hope right now. Thank you all so much.

--Trish

Survival

2011-12-06T01:37:00.001-06:00

One of the things that I've always tried to do here on the blog is be transparent. Good or bad, admirable or shameful, I've always wanted to share the truth of what I was feeling. What I was feeling may not always be the truth (perspective is a funny thing) but emotions are subject to logic or morality. They just are. Sometimes they're fun or happy, but often they're ugly and raw. Whether is was the bitterness over my infertility or the pain of my miscarriages, and into the frustration and exhaustion of a child with special needs, I have always tried to share what I was really feeling. I don't intend for that to change now.
So now I'm going to try to share what crazy feels like. And yes, I know crazy isn't very politically correct when it comes to mental illness. But I feel crazy. I don't think my outside matches how I feel on the inside, but if it did, people would shield their children from me in the streets. It's funny because I've lost so much weight and my skin still has the pregnancy glow so I look pretty good. Everyone keeps commenting on it. "Wow, how do you feel? You look fantastic!" It's nice to hear, but weird because the honest answer to that question is "awful. I just feel awful."

And I think adding to the feeling of craziness is that it is interspersed with these overwhelming feelings of love and joy. Little flashes. Robbie wanted me to play with him and his "rocketshit" tonight and I laughed a real, genuine laugh. There's something about a toddler accidentally saying shit that is beyond funny. And Charlotte smiled in her sleep earlier and I felt like it was a flash of God telling me "she's okay."

But 99% of the rest of the evening? Crazy. I took my first dose of lexapro and honestly, I think it made me feel worse, not better. I guess that's pretty common. I got really flushed and dizzy and blurry eyed. And of course, that's combined with my usual symptoms- trembling hands and legs, nausea, chest pain, irritability, panic, racing thoughts etc. It's a great combination.

I sat down tonight and I prayed loudly to God. I had spoken with a friend about how I felt like I had no words for God even though my faith is fine. She offered me some scripture to let me know that I was not alone. One particularly passage she shared spoke to me.

Romans 8:26, "In the same way the Spirit also helps our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we should, but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words."

She encouraged me to just speak what was in my heart, so that's what I did. It wasn't a long prayer, but it was a heartfelt one. I cried and thanked Him for the blessings that I can literally look around and count. The kids, of course, but also my husband and my dad and my mother-in-law, all of whom have been nothing but amazingly supportive. My friends, my blog readers, everyone who has sent an email or comment or text or call to say they're thinking of me. I am blessed beyond what any one person deserves. But still the panic comes.

David and I talked about it tonight. I've had trouble with an anxiety disorder in the past, but it's really been at least livable for more than a decade. David thinks this is different. He's seen me anxious, but he's never seen me like this. He (and I agree) believes this is postpartum chemical whackiness. And it's awful.

The thing is how to get through it? Hopefully tomorrow the lexapro won't send me into the spin it did tonight. Tonight was like nuclear anxiety. I wanted to scream, cry, throw things, run out into the freezing cold and just keep going. Just sitting down to nurse Charlotte, I felt like I was going to climb out of my skin.

I wondered to David earlier if this is how my mother felt before she left. (Trish history flashback: My mother left when I was 2. She called once when I was 27, but I haven't seen her at all since I was younger than Robbie is now.) Maybe she was mentally ill and didn't have the support that I do. There was no Lexapro then. And I know enough about her family back then to know she probably wouldn't have gotten the support that I have. David was less forgiving (and generally, so am I) but who really knows. What I do know is that this condition.. this disease.. this whatever.. it's not reasonable.

Don't mistake me- I'm in no way planning to leave my family. I DO have the support to get through this. But even with all of the support and resources that I have, I'm just barely keeping it together. If I didn't? I don't think that I would. If I didn't have the support I have and didn't love my kids to the depths of my soul, I'd probably have myself in an inpatient program somewhere.

I don't know what to do until things improve. I don't know how long that will take. I'm going to try to get through tomorrow, with David on stand-by at work if he needs to come home. And he will try to arrange things to maybe be off on Wednesday. I might see if my mother-in-law can come on Thursday and Friday. I feel like a failure to even ask. She has a job and has already taken off so much to be with us. If I knew someone to hire to be here particularly in the evening and late night, I'd do that, but I don't and can't find one through an agency as quickly as tomorrow. But we'll figure it out. Somehow.

Right now, I'm coming out of the crazy time. It's 2am and my mind is clearing. My hands are still shaking, my vision is still blurry, and I'm still sweating for no good reason at all. But I can think straight for the first time in hours. I just hope that tomorrow brings more lucidity. And the day after that even more.

In the mean time, prayers for survival and health are all I can do and ask for. They are more appreciated than you know. Fortunately my crazy doesn't preclude gratitude.

--Trish

brief update

2011-12-05T09:51:00.001-06:00

She's calling me in some Lexapro.
I'm really nervous about this affecting Charlotte, but she says it's safe.

Prayers for it to work for me and NOT to affect Charlotte, please.

PPD Con't

2011-12-04T22:30:00.001-06:00

Firstly, thank you so much to everyone who emailed, called, texted and commented. I was crying when I wrote the post because I was so beaten down and hopeless, and then I cried for hours more from the hope that you all offered. Thank you so much.

Last night, it wasn't *so* bad. It wasn't good, but it wasn't this sickening hopeless hole of despair. Tonight, I'm afraid it has been, again.

It came on slower tonight. Usually about 6:00, it hits me like a truck. My stomach drops and starts to churn, my hands start to shake, my mind starts to race. Tonight 6:00 came and it was more of a general sense of unwellness. But then about 8:30, the truck got here. My chest started to hurt, my body started to shake, my brain wouldn't stop. I flitted from heart attack to stomach cancer to being unable to make my kids happy to any more of a thousand other scary, awful things. I told himself it wasn't logical. I took deep breaths, I thought happy thoughts. I painted a fake smile on my face and tucked Robbie into bed.

Why? Why is this happening? I know you can offer science. Hormones, brain chemistry, genetics, exhaustion, PTSD, yada yada yada. But why now? Why was last night not-so-bad and tonight so terrible? Is it something I ate? Too much activity? Too little?

We were busy tonight. My dad came over and helped us decorate for Christmas. Robbie thought he'd won the lottery when he saw the tree. He put candy canes on just as proudly as anything you could see. It made me smile. A real smile, too, not a that's-sweet-but-I-can't-really-feel-it smile. When the truck didn't hit me at 6, I thought maybe the distraction had saved me a little bit. But no. Just delayed it.

Maybe it's related to my blood pressure. I dropped my pressure too much today. At one point I was moving the love seat across the room (to put the tree up in its place) and I felt really lightheaded. I took my blood pressure and it was 99/55. That's way too low for me. Oops.

So when my meds were due at 6, just a few hours later, and my BP was only then up to 120/70, I was afraid to take my full dose. So I halved it. At 8:30, when I started to feel Anxious, it was 135/85. Not great, but not awful. At 10, though, it was up to 150/90. So I took the other half. I feel like I can't win.

That brings me to another thing I worry about. (this is a little bit worry and a little bit Worry.) The labetilol has my heart rate LOW (as low as 50 bpm.) won't zoloft (or paxil) do the same thing? That is- drop my heart rate. Can the two be mixed together?

Obviously I need the blood pressure meds. But I don't know how long I can live with this anxiety either. I'm a mess. I need to be able to combine the two.

I went back and looked and after Robbie was born, I had to be on BP meds for 10 days. TEN DAYS. I was pretty much at kidney failure, sick sick sick.. and came out of it in 10 days. Charlotte is now over 3 weeks old and I'm still fighting it. I didn't get nearly as sick with her as with him, but it's clinging to me for dear life. Fucking preeclampsia.

And I know lots of people never get away from the BP meds. Maybe that will happen to me this time. I feel like I've been improving. Heck, I was at 110/70 for a solid week until the last few days. And I can't help but wonder if the Anxiety is what is driving it back up. Both tend to peak at night. So maybe some mood medication would "fix" my blood pressure, too. But if I can't safely take the two together for a little bit to find out, I'm in trouble.

So that's what I'm stressing about tonight. Along with wondering if the chest pain is a heart attack or the heart burn is stomach cancer or if the fact that Charlotte cried for 13 seconds earlier means I'm a terrible mother and won't be able to make her happy. (Yes. That's my brain on Anxiety. Logic not required.)

All I know for sure is that this SUCKS. I really hope my doctor has some hope for me tomorrow. And if any of you successfully combined blood pressure meds with mood stabilizers and nursed at the same time, I'd love to hear that.

Honestly, I'm loving hearing ALL of your success stories. They are the only thing really giving me home right not because I truly feel like I am stuck like this forever. Logically I know that's not the case, but it FEELS like a hole I'll never climb out of. Knowing that some of you have been in the hole and found your way back out (and it seems like with some ease?) is what is keeping me going right now.

If you could all pray for the preeclampsia and the anxiety to leave me be, it would be a lot to me. I'm struggling with my conversation with God right now. My faith is untouched- I know and love a gracious, loving God, but I can't seem to find the right words to pray lately. It's probably part of the depression. So maybe add that to your prayers, too. I guess I just need a lot of help lately, huh?

Trish

PPD

2011-12-02T22:01:00.001-06:00

I'm going to just lay this out here: I'm pretty sure I'm suffering from post-partum depression.

I knew I was having some issues with anxiety and put it off to the baby blues for a while. Then at one point one of the OBs told me that anxiety can be a symptom of high blood pressure, so I thought it was "just" that.

And for a little while, my blood pressures improved and so did the anxiety. And then my blood pressures have gone wonky again the last few days and so has the anxiety.

So the two things at least seem to be correlated.

But the thing is, I still feel anxious even when my blood pressures are fine.

About 6 or 7 at night, it really sets in. It starts with that sinking feeling of doom. Then the nervous stomach starts. Maybe some chest pain. My hands and legs start to tremble. My mind races. I worry about Charlotte's weight, about my milk supply, about germs, about how many episodes of Mickey Mouse Robbie watched today, if the pain my legs is a blood clot, if the cough is really pneumonia, if my husband resents how much of my slack he's pulling, and on and on and on.

I tell myself it's a chemical reaction, not a real one. I try to talk to myself rationally. But it won't stop. Usually until around 10 or 11 at night when it will ease.

The last 2 days have been particularly rough. Yesterday morning I had a round of Anxiety that is usually reserved for the night. I was home alone with the kids and just feeling completely overwhelmed. I walk through the things I'm "supposed" to do to take care of them, but I feel like a zombie. I do them because I have to, not because of any internal drive to do so.

The long and short of it is that I don't feel joy. Yesterday I heard myself laugh at something on TV and actually found myself surprised. I realized it's been days since I laughed. How can that be?

And then the guilt comes. I have two amazing, healthy, beautiful children at home. I have a husband who is supportive and loving. I have family who loves and cares for us without judgement or complaint. I have an awful lot of things to feel joy about. But here I am anyway.

What I realized today (duh) is that it's clearly a "problem." Today I ended up at a cardiologist's office being scanned for blood clots because I couldn't stop worrying about the leg pain I was having. Logically, that probably wasn't too out there- I've got a lot of risk factors- but it was how I felt inside that made it clear it was more than a "better safe than sorry" situation. I was obsessing about it. Because worrying it what I DO.

I sat down tonight and told my husband what I was really feeling. I hadn't told him, or anyone really, how bad it was because I was ashamed. To be frank, I'm still ashamed. I shouldn't feel this way. I feel like a bad mom, a bad wife, a bad daughter, a bad friend, an annoying patient. I feel like I'm letting everyone in my life down.

David was amazing. I feared he'd tell me to get over myself, but he didn't. He reassured me that I'm a great mom and a great wife and that even though I may not feel like I'm doing enough, I really am. We talked about brain chemistry and all of that and he didn't make me feel crazy at all. We talked about natural ways to fight this (exercise, more sunshine etc) and about my decision to call the doctor on Monday for medication.

I wish I could say that made me feel somewhat better, but again- I seem to be incapable of feeling better. It mostly just didn't make me feel worse.

I am worried (there I go again) about the meds and nursing. I'm worried the safest ones won't work. I'm worried I'll never feel better again. Because that's how my brain works right now. I feel stuck in a hole. But I'm also trying to tell myself that's the condition, not reality. The reality is that lots of women are able to successfully treat their PPD and they do come out of it. And their kids are okay. I have to hang onto that in my brain, because my heart isn't quite buying it.

So I will call the doctor on Monday. In the mean time, I hope that you will all pray for me. And I hope that you'll be kind in your comments. I know this is yet another whiny post, but I wanted to be honest and real. This is how I'm feeling. Mental illness isn't fair or logical. It is, however, part of my life.

--Trish

Nursing Worries

2011-11-29T23:36:00.001-06:00

I'm finding nursing a bit of a love-hate relationship.

I really enjoy nursing her. I'm not really a super crunchy type, but in this case, nursing has been kinda magical for us. I had the same experience with Robbie. The first time he nursed it was perfect. He latched on and looked happy. I sobbed happy tears. It wasn't to last. He didn't have the stamina to take full feedings by breast and then of course, he ended up not eating at all, but for that brief moment in time, it was magic.

Charlotte also had a perfect latch right from the start. She knew what to do immediately and did it well. She was very sleepy and did a lot more sleeping than nursing for a few days. In the hospital, they had me topping her off with a bottle after she nursed, but she never took more than another 1/2 oz (and usually much less than that) and seemed satisfied.

Her pediatrician wanted to make sure she didn't lose too much weight to start because she just didn't have much to give, so that's what we did. She lost the first 2 days, then slowly started to gain again. When we left the hospital, we stopped topping her off. Her first office appointment, she hadn't gained any weight and I was pretty stressed out.

I was still having to wake her to eat, so I moved her feedings up to every 2 hours instead of every 3, and as she slowly started to wake up a little more (waking on her own, I mean) sometimes she'd feed even more often than that. Our next weight check, she had made weight. The doctor wanted 3-5 oz in that time, and she'd gained 3.5.

I have a baby scale at home, so I can also keep track at home. I try not to weigh her obsessively both because I know there are variables that make that unreliable and because I know it will make me crazy. But tonight was a weigh in night.

She's gained 1.5 oz in 4 days putting her back at her birth weight of 5lb 2oz. I wish it were just a bit higher. Right now she's gained 4oz in 6 days. Average is a little more than that. I know she's so small yet. She's still a little over 2 weeks from her due date. I'm almost certain I have plenty of supply. She has a great latch and seems to nurse well. Her diaper outputs are great. All signs point to a happy, healthy baby. But I wish it was a little more.

I know that some of this is Robbie's history bleeding into Charlotte. Some of it is because even though she's my 2nd child, I've never done this before. Some of it is probably Anxiety screwing with my mind. But I'm worried.

I love her so much and I want what is best for her. I want her to have the immunities that breast milk provides. She's so tiny and fragile, I want to do everything I can for her. I keep telling myself that if she needs formula, she does. Or I can pump and supplement her a little. But I honestly don't think I can exclusively pump again like I did with Robbie.

I'm already pulled in 2 directions all day. Robbie is handling the change very well, but at least once a day, he gives me the saddest look like he just misses having me all to himself. I try to immediately devote a little one-on-one time to him and that seems to perk him right up, but I still feel like I'm having to choose between them a lot. Adding having to pump 6 or 8 times a day just isn't going to help that. And it was hard enough the first time... I swore I wouldn't do it again. Of course, never say never, I suppose. But I really don't want to do it again.

I just keep praying that as she gets closer to her due date, she gets bigger and stronger and then it cycles into better weight gain and so on. Hopefully as she gets bigger and can control her temperature better, she'll burn fewer calories as well. We do everything we can to keep her warm, but it's not the same as having that natural internal mechanism. Hopefully more body fat will help with that.

I really just need her to get bigger and stronger all around. I worry so much about her and love her so much. I need her to be okay. I hope that allows me to continue nursing her, but at this point, I just wish I knew what the right answer was.

I would really appreciate prayers for good weight gain and for peace for me. Worrying changes nothing and I know that. But I seem to be incapable of not doing it.

Trish

By the numbers

2011-11-26T12:12:00.001-06:00

14: days that Charlotte is old. Where does the time go?
1: the point drop in Charlotte's bilirubin this week. Not huge, but it's the right direction, so we'll take it.
3.5: ounces Charlotte gained this week, putting her back up over the 5 pound mark (5lb 0.5oz) and making her pediatrician happy.
23: the number of pounds I'm down from my prepregnancy weight. I'm probably going to need some new pants or risk an embarrassing moment in public.
10: hours I had to delay taking my last dose of blood pressure medicine (normally taken every 8 hours) because my blood pressures were TOO LOW. Even then, I took a smaller dose in an attempt to keep from bottoming out.
It's quite a difference to go from "I shouldn't stand up, I could have a stroke" to "I shouldn't stand up, I might get too lightheaded." The latter DEFINITELY being better. Certainly will be talking to the doctor about lowering my dose on Monday.
26: pounds that Robbie now weighs. I hadn't even realized it, but he has officially regained and surpassed all of the weight he lost during tube-weaning. And frankly- he feels and looks pretty heavy right now.
2: remaining days until David goes back to work and I'm officially on my own with both kids. NERVOUS.
95: the percentage by which I feel better than I did even on Monday. As my blood pressures have plummeted, so have my anxiety levels, the baby blues, and even my exhaustion (though I suspect the exhaustion will last a few more months. Totally worth it, but the newborn nights are rough!)
1472: the number of times a day I stop and think about how amazing my kids are.

Gratitude

2011-11-24T17:54:00.001-06:00

Today is Thanksgiving.
When I found out I was pregnant with Charlotte and figured out my due date, I knew that my goal would really be 37 weeks because of my delivery history with Robbie. That day was today, 11/24/11.
I spent all those months praying for a Thanksgiving baby. While I didn't make it quite as close as I hoped, it's hard to be too upset as I sit here staring at my amazing baby girl. I have so much to be thankful for.

Charlotte is doing great. She had her first pediatrician appointment on Monday. She hadn't gained any weight since leaving the hospital and I panicked a bit. (Okay, a lot.) But she's eating well, and I'm hopeful that at her recheck on Saturday, things will improve. They rechecked her bilirubin that day and it was back up to 11, but we did it again yesterday and it was down to 10, so it's headed in the right direction on its own, which is encouraging.

She's still in the super sleepy phase, though she has a couple of wakeful periods each day. Usually in the morning and then very late at night. The nights can get kinda rough, but such is the way with babies. She is so snuggly and sweet, and even when she's awake for a while, she's pretty happy, so sometimes the nights feel like I'm getting a little something that no one else gets (for now.)

Robbie is also doing very well. He seems to have fallen in love with his sister. When she does fuss, he goes over and talks to her to console her. One day when I'd gone to the bathroom and she started crying, he brought her a paci. He brings her a blanket or a toy if he sees one he thinks she needs. In the mornings when I'm laying in bed nursing her, I'll hear him coming across the house to "say hi to Mommy and baby Charlotte!"

He's really quite gentle with her. We've had a few incidents where he's gotten too wound up and had to be reminded to be careful around her, but they've all been accidents and he's seemed genuinely upset that he had almost hurt her. (Just bouncing on the bed and accidentally knocking into her or something.)

You can see him figuring things out sometimes. Yesterday I was using one of Robbie's fleece blankets on her and he looked a little concerned and told me that was his blanket. I told him that he was right but asked if it was okay if Charlotte used it. He seemed to take that under advisement just repeating "that's Robbie's blanket" but not really seeming upset about it. Then he just wandered off. A little while later, he came up, gave the blanket the same pensive look and said "that's Charlotte's blanket." I guess he bequeathed it to her.

I'll tell ya, nothing makes your three year old look bigger than having a baby in the house, though. I swear it's like he grew a foot and aged a year the day she was born. It's bittersweet. He's not the baby anymore, but man, seeing him as a big brother makes me even more proud of him.

David's been amazing, too. We definitely struggled after Robbie was born. David had no idea what to do with a baby, let alone a preemie with the kind of issues that Robbie had. It was not easy. I worried about us going through that again, so we talked about it a lot before and during my pregnancy with Charlotte. He definitely took it all to heart.

During the weeks in the hospital, he took care of everything at home. He run Robbie back and forth to the hospital, took care of school stuff, home chores. He took vacation time when Charlotte was born, but the nature of his job makes vacation a little bit of a loose term. He was sitting in the NICU the night Charlotte was moved there writing memos for work. Vacation just meant he didn't have to go into the office, but still handled things as they came up. All while taking care of me, Charlotte and Robbie.

We've sniped at each other a time or two, of course. The kind of stress and sleep deprivation that comes with a preterm birth and a newborn can get to anyone. But by and large, we've been a team through all of this. He's taken Charlotte without question whenever I've needed a break, and almost exclusively parented Robbie while I was on bedrest and too sick to get up for a while.

Then there are our parents. My mother-in-law took a leave from work and came to stay at our house the day after I was admitted to the hospital. She took Robbie to and from school, comforted him, fed him, all while keeping my house immaculate (seriously, she is SO much a better housekeeper than me) and doing our laundry.

My dad still works full time but he made sure that my mother-in-law could get around, helped entertain Robbie, shopped for anything we needed, and provided back up care when we needed it.

I honestly don't know what we'd have done without both of them. One day David turned to me and said "if ever my mom gets to the point where we need to take care of her and I ever complain? Smack me." We are both overwhelmed with their generosity. And when we tried to express our gratitude, both of them just waved us off, "eh, we're family." That may be true, but not every family is as supportive as ours.

And friends? I can't even talk about my friends without choking up with tears. As soon as I was put on bedrest, a few friends got together to make freezer meals for me. And bring books and movies and magazines to help keep my mind busy.

They texted and emailed and called and visited me at home and then later in the hospital to stave off off loneliness. They prayed.

Last week, the girls from my preemie board arranged for a mobile shower the likes of which I can't even explain. They conspired with David and my mother-in-law to fill my house with gifts that are beyond generous. They filled my deep freeze all over again. There were gift certificates for photos, and house-cleaning. There was a kindle (!) with a gift card for books. There were clothes and blankets and diapers and a dozen cards with touching messages that made me cry a lot. They made me feel loved.

And of course, there is God. Without his amazing love and caring, I don't know where we'd be. My entire pregnancy was an answer to prayers. That we got as far as we did is another. Charlotte's good health is nothing short of a miracle. That we two infertiles, me being a profoundly crappy gestator on top of it, are sitting at home on this Thanksgiving day with our two beautiful children proves a thousand times that God is a loving and powerful God and I'm grateful every day for His presence in my life.

Everything isn't always sunshine and rainbows and I'm never going to be the person who pretends that it is. But neither do I ever overlook my many, many blessings. I count them daily and try to make sure that those people by whom I'm blessed know how I feel about them.

Today isn't about remembering that I'm lucky. I know that all 365 days a year. But I do think it's a great day to shout it from the rooftops without feeling like a braggart. My life is full. I am blessed. I am filled with thanksgiving.

--Trish

Actual complaining

2011-11-20T00:34:00.001-06:00

Preeclampsia is evil. It isn't enough that it has caused both my babies to come early, but it is the gift that just won't stop giving.

With Robbie, I started feeling better almost immediately after he was delivered. It was nearly 2 weeks until I could focus on eyes again (I really blamed the mag for that, but in retrospect, it was probably the pre-e.) and 3 weeks of BP meds until it started to regulate, but overall, I *FELT* okay.

This time, even though I didn't get nearly as sick, it seems to be lasting longer. First there was the reaction I had to the mag the day after Charlotte was born. God bless the nurse who finally said "that's it! You're done!" and shut it off a little early. I couldn't take much more. I swelled up like a stuffed sausage that day, too. The covering OB kept commenting on how bad my face looked. Good thing I'm not sensitive to that sort of thing. I was more concerned with my feet as they felt like they might actually explode.

And now that I'm at home, my blood pressures are just not cooperating. They were finally a little better the last day and a half and I thought maybe we'd finally started to regulate (at double the dose I was on after Robbie) but tonight around 7:30 I started to feel a little funny. Took my BP- 170/100.

Laid down an hour, 170/105.
Took my BP meds a few hours early, laid down another hour, 165/99.

Had to page the on-call doc. She had me take another 1/2 dose of meds, discussed a few options and waited an hour. Fortunately that got it down to 145/90, which isn't great, but is livable for the time being.

Of course this is all between also tending to a hungry baby and trying to get a toddler to bed. David was great and took care of everything he possibly could, but at one point Robbie starts yelling "need to snuggle mommy!" and Charlotte was gearing up for her nightly cluster feed, so there are some limits.

I was extremely relieved to avoid the E.R. But it's also frustrating and scary. I don't want to have a stroke. I don't want to feel like crap. I am so, so, so, so, blessed to have two mostly healthy, absolutely amazing children at home. I just want to be able to care for them.

Preeclampsia is a condition of pregnancy. It took the end of my pregnancies from me, so why can't it just leave me alone?

I'm praying this was an isolated event. Since my pressures have been decent the last couple of days, maybe it was pre-e's last gasp. A girl can always hope.

In any case, I would appreciate prayers for healing for me and for all of us. Charlotte has been sneezing a bit tonight. It might be normal newborn sneezing, but Robbie's had this never-ending cold (probably more like two colds or even three in a row. Thank you, daycare.) for the last probably 6 weeks, and I'm scared to death that Charlotte is going to get it. She does have the benefit of immunities from my breastmilk (I've never been so happy to have gotten one of Robbie's colds before) but we have no way of knowing how she would handle a cold. Her lungs seemed great when she came out, but she was still born 5 weeks too soon and she's still very small. If we could put off her getting sick for a while, that would be much, much better.

Trish

We're home

2011-11-17T19:14:00.001-06:00

We made it!

She passed all her tests, kept her temp up and we were released this afternoon about 3:30.

It's very surreal to be home after nearly 2 weeks gone.

Charlotte seems a little overwhelmed. She's yet to sleep. She ate kinda crappily, then wanted more an hour later and ate well. I was a little worried because I don't even have a pump, so if she doesn't eat, I'm going to HURT. Thankfully she did a great job a little earlier. She almost nodded off, but as soon as I put her down, she woke up again. She seems to be looking around like "whoa. Where AM I?"

Obviously she can't see much, but I'm sure the shapes are different, the smell is different, the sounds are different. She hears Robbie and she seems really curious. I hope she settles in soon. I hope *I* settle in soon. It's just surreal.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need a nap.

--Trish

The Long Version

2011-11-16T22:33:00.001-06:00

I swear, I feel like I've been beaten.

This morning, my OB released me. Charlotte had been doing perfectly (eating, maintaining her temp, no breathing trouble, even gained an ounce of weight back last night) so I was confident we were going home. We started packing and had our stuff by the door.

I was pretty sure Charlotte was going to be jaundiced. It's super common anyway, particularly in preemies, even more in breastfed preemies and her bili had gone up the 2 previous days, though not to a concerning level. But it usually peaks between 3-5 days after birth, so I kinda expected it. And then about 2, she started looking pretty yellow to me and didn't eat well at all.. just really sleepy. (Common symptoms of jaundice.)
At 5, she ate well, but was downright orange. The nurse thought the same thing and had did a heel prick to send her serum level off. But I wasn't freaked out or anything. I'd already discussed it with her pediatrician at rounds the day before and knew we could go home with a bili blanket if it came to that.

Well, her pediatrician rounded at 7:30 and said her level had gone up a lot- it was 14. She wanted her on the lights right away and wrote an order for us to get a bili bed at home and a nurse visit for tomorrow to draw her levels again right away.

They took Charlotte to the nursery and brought her back naked on this bili bed. Charlotte was furious. They had a couple of blankets over her, but Charlotte was NOT to be consoled. She was just flailing all over the place. I had only slept 2 hours all night because she'd had a little cluster feed at one point and then all the stuff with the tests and all that, (plus you know, it's the hospital. I swear someone comes in every 10 minutes to wake you up and tell you to go to sleep.) I was hoping to lay down a bit, but it wasn't to be.

David and I both tried to calm her down, but w/o being able to actually hold her, that was difficult.
An hour later, her nurse comes to take her temp. It's 93. Nurse is convinced the thermometer isn't working. Goes and gets another one. Still low.
Takes it rectally. it's actually 93.
Holy shit, that's REALLY bad.

I start to freak out, I want to hold her kangaroo style right away to help get her temp up while the nurse is paging docs. the nurse won't let me. I'm beside myself.
She finally takes her off the nursery under the warmers. (This probably only took 10 minutes, but seriously, I could have increased her temp at least a LITTLE in 10 minutes. I'm still pissed about it. I swear if I never hear the word "policy" again, it's too soon. More on that later.)

She comes back, tells us that the NICU team is coming to evaluate her and she's paged our pediatrician. I pretty much knew then that we were going to have to stay. Our pediatrician is really conservative, and she'd already been nervous about us going home with her bili high.

The NICU NP comes in to talk to us and has the hospital social worker with us. Yeah, that definitely means bad news. She was as nice as could possibly be, she really was (is) but you know, the news still sucked.

She said that with the jaundice and then the temp drop, they wanted to get her into an isolette and under the lights. there was also the CBC they'd done when her temp was so low and her white blood cells were just slightly low, so they wanted to repeat that in the morning to make sure it wasn't the sign of an infection (newborns will often do the opposite of adults and drop their levels instead of raise them.) She doesn't really think it's an infection, but will be cautious.

While I was talking to her, my pediatrician calls my hospital room and she's convinced it IS the sign of infection and definitely thinks she needs to be in the NICU.

They take Charlotte and go. I sob.

And sob.

And sob.

Her nurse takes pity on us and arranges for us to keep our hospital room until 7 tonight and says maybe we can get a courtesy room down by the NICU. That doesn't happen, but I can stay on the couch in Robbie's NICU room. Just means that I'm by myself and still healing from a c-section, which isn't ideal, but it is what it is.

In the midst of all of this, Charlotte has a couple more feedings, which she completely sleeps through. I have to bottle feed her instead of nurse and even that is difficult. It's either the jaundice or the cold (even though she's now warm) or infection.. who knows. I was a wreck.

I managed to pump enough for a few feedings, thankfully, so at least I had that (not that she couldn't have formula but at this point, I'm hanging on to what I can.)

My mother-in-law brought Robbie up for a quick visit, which is a welcome distraction. This gives Charlotte a little time to get admitted into the NICU, then come down to see her. It's one of my favorite nurses with her, which was a huge relief. As soon as she sees us she just shakes her head. "She didn't want Robbie to have all the stories."

The sight of Charlotte in the isolette is almost more than I can take. Maybe it was PTSD, I don't know, but as soon as I saw her, I started sobbing again. Another one of my babies naked in an isolette in the NICU. My heart was just shredded.

The NP, Dawn, is in and out and says Charlotte's initial labs were good (they'd checked her electrolytes to make sure she wasn't dehydrated since she'd not been eating well for a few hours, but they were fine.).

It's about time for her to eat, so I decide to attempt to nurse her, figuring I'd just bottle feed her anyway. She ends up taking maybe 1/3 of a feeding by breast (improvement) and the rest by bottle. Nikki is off tending another baby who is having a lot of breathing issues, so I just hold Charlotte a while. Nikki comes back and I ask if I have to give her back right away to get her back on the lights.
THEN she tells me "well, you can hold her a little while. her bili really isn't that high." I say something about it having been 14 and she says it wasn't really 14, it was 10.

Excuse?

Yeah, turns out that 14 that everyone quoted was the skin test thing which is notoriously inaccurate. They hadn't even waited for the serum level to come back with the real level, which was 10. I ask what it really should be (pretty sure 10 being below the treatable level because that's what it was on the skin test the day before) and she says that different doctors have different policies, but in the NICU, they don't treat for a level of 10. I make myself proud by NOT starting to cuss. The issue that set off this whole thing wasn't even an issue?!

Of course, I tell myself that maybe it's for the best, Charlotte WAS acting lethargic and there's still the undetermined WBC issue and maybe God has us here for a reason. But I was twitching anyway.

The NP Dawn comes in to chat with us a bit and they discuss if Charlotte even needs to be on the lights. In the end, we all agree to just leave her on the lights as is. She has to be in the isolette for her temperature, may as well make the most of it and get her bili down. It will help her feel better, eat better and will make our pediatrician happy in the morning.

She had discussed the WBC level with the neonatologist on duty and he didn't think it was an issue either, but it will be repeated in the morning either way.

We check Charlotte's temperature and she's WARM. Dawn encourages Nikki to aggressively wean her isolette temp with the goal being to have her back in an open crib by morning.

A few familiar faces come by and catch up on Robbie. Everyone coos over Charlotte. I try not to think too much about how disturbing familiar everything is. I try not to notice the smell of the soap. I hear a ventilator alarm across the hall and my stomach churns, but I stare at length at the silence of Charlotte's monitors to reassure myself.

David and I go to the cafeteria for dinner. He insists I stay in a wheelchair since my blood pressures are still not great and I'm still recovering. He takes me for a "walk" outside. It's the first fresh air I've had in 10 days. All I want to do is get back to the NICU and check on Charlotte.

The night nurse asks if we'd like to bathe her. It's all coming back to me now. I stepped right in to do her weight (up .7oz from the night before, despite all the drama today) and sponge bathe. Then sat down to feed her. She nursed fantastically. I tried to top her off with a bottle and she barely took 5ml. She was full. Definitely improvement. She looks significantly less yellow and her temp is good.

Right now, what we need is for her to have a normal CBC in the morning. If that goes well, there's a good chance we can get out of here tomorrow. Dawn doesn't think it's going to be a problem. But as I told all of them earlier, Hope and I aren't friends right now. I'll believe it when we're walking out the door.

Right now I'm sitting in the NICU waiting for feeding time. I've definitely been here before. At least this time the rooms are private and I can spend the night, so I don't have to leave her behind. If she has to stay past tomorrow, that might change, but right now, I'm just going a few hours at a time. First we get through the night. We'll see what the morning brings.

--Trish

NICU

2011-11-16T13:34:00.001-06:00

She's going to the NICU.

Right now the concerns are 1) Jaundice 2) Temp control 3) her white blood cell count was very slightly decreased, which could be a sign of infection.

the plan is to put her in an isolette under phototherapy. They're going to do some blood work and make sure her electrolytes are okay. Since she hasn't been eating well for the last few feedings, she could be a little dry. If so, they'll do an IV for fluids, if not, no IV.

They are planning to nipple her (I'm allowed to come try to nurse her whenever I want, but she hasn't been interested in that at all the last few feedings, so more likely I'll continue to pump and bottle feed her.)

I have pumped over night and have a few ounces in the fridge, so I'm at least a feeding, probably 2 ahead of her, so at least there's that.

The postpartum floor charge nurse has taken pity on us and is letting us stay in our current room until 7 tonight, but then I'm not sure what's going to happen. She has a private room in the NICU, so there is a fold out couch I can stay on overnight, but of course, that means me and my fresh c-section down there alone. There is talk of maybe finding us a hospitality room so both David and I could stay the night at least tonight, but we'll see.
Otherwise, David might just get a hotel room nearby.

The NP from the NICU wasn't overly concerned, but our pediatrician is, so who knows. The hope is that it's only for a night or two. The jaundice isn't severe, but the temp drop was pretty big. And if she has an infection, obviously that's a bigger deal.
Really, we're just in wait and see mode right now.

I'm basically a freakin' wreck.

So.. here we are.

Thank you.

2011-11-15T23:33:00.001-06:00

Thanks for the prayers.

Have had some small improvements today. Still getting random stomach pains when I'm up for very long, but have had the energy to actually hold Charlotte today, which has been a relief. I was feeling like a complete failure yesterday. I simply couldn't even sit up to snuggle her. It was horrible.

They've increased my blood pressure medicine again, but my pressures are still not so great. But my swelling has gone down significantly, so that's at least some improvement.

Charlotte is currently in the nursery getting weighed and will get her car seat test. (She has to spend 1.5 hours in her car seat w/o having breathing trouble.) If that goes well and my OB agrees, we'll all be heading home tomorrow.

She's looking kinda yellow tonight, so we may end up with a bili blanket or something. She's been a little increased the last 2 days but not to a treatable level, so we'll see how it goes. She's nursing great, though, and my milk is definitely in (ouch.) so hopefully that won't be a big issue.

David's planning to take off work through Thanksgiving, so hopefully I'll have plenty of help at home and can rest and just let my body heal. It clearly is taking longer this time than it did with Robbie. Preeclampsia is the devil.

In other good news, Robbie seems to have warmed to Charlotte. My dad took him down to the gift shop tonight and he picked out a toy for Charlotte and he absolutely insisted she have it. It's a lullaby bear. He'd ask one of us to wind it up and then take it to her over and over again and says "it's baby Charlotte's." or he'd cuddle the bear and say "aww... for baby Charlotte.." It was so sweet, it made me cry.

Anyway, time to get some rest. Hopefully my last night in this hospital bed.

Trish

Prayers for me, please

2011-11-15T01:20:00.001-06:00

Charlotte is doing really, really well, but I am not so much.

My pressures have been up most of the night around 160/80, even with the meds. (obviously the 80 is great, but 160 is the level for severe) I feel just plain horrible. I'm up now for the first time in hours. I had the nursery feed her a bottle. They've brought her for the other feedings and I've had to nurse her and then send her straight back because I just can't handle it.

I'm honestly scared for my own health right now. I really, really could use some prayers to get over the hump and start improving.

Another quickie

2011-11-14T02:25:00.001-06:00

It's been a long, long day. Mag sulfate is evil, let me just say that. Spent the morning feeling really, really, really bad. There was a point where the docs spent some time trying to decide if I was about to seize or just having a bad mag reaction. That's not fun. They settled on bad mag reaction. But they turned it off a little early for me (God bless them) and I started feeling significantly better almost immediately. We moved up to postpartum around 3 this afternoon. It's like Mecca up here.

I'm doing well. I still have the shakes from something (Demerol, maybe?) and of course, my tummy is sore. My feet look like tree trunks from the swelling that finally hit. But overall, I feel pretty good.

Charlotte is doing fantastically. He breathing and temp control have been perfect. We attempt to feed her every 3 hours, she's been successfully nursing about every other session. She lost down to 4lb 12 oz tonight. Our pediatrician was in this morning and warned me that she may want to supplement her a bit if she loses too much because she's so little to start with. The nurses told her I had a ton of colostrum already, so she said she'd keep that in mind, but not to be surprised if it happens.

I do think if we go that route, I'm going to go with an SNS instead of a bottle, though. Charlotte's latch is SO good, she really just needs to stay awake and gain some stamina. I hate for us to lose ground there by introducing an "easy" bottle too soon. Now the question becomes if I want to pump or use formula. I still haven't decided. I feel like I should pump, but 1) I hate pumping and 2) I want my boobs to learn to let down for a baby, not for a pump again.

I'm fine with formula, but I also don't want to confuse her about flavor and of course, the breast milk has the benefit of immunities, which she could definitely use. So I don't know. Please don't start milk wars in my comment feed, either. Anyone who is successfully nourishing their child is doing a good job. Period. Okay?

Our pediatrician did tell me she's going to want Charlotte in 8 weeks of quarantine. AFTER her due date. Meaning we're probably out of the social loop until mid-February. And even then, she's going to want us to keep a low profile until spring. She's doing remarkably well for a 35 weeker, but she is still a 35 weeker. She wasn't done cooking yet. It's going to be a long winter.

Robbie came to visit briefly today with a little more success. He actually looked at her with interest and said hi to her. But he still didn't want to get near her. It's okay. I know he'll adjust eventually. This has been a huge upheaval for him. I've been gone for a week and now he has to share me? My MIL says all he asks for all day is to go to the hospital and see mommy, but then he gets here and wants nothing to do with me. He's clearly angry with me. I can't blame him.

I've had a good cry or 12 about it, but I also know Charlotte needed this week even more than he did. It won't be the last time I'm forced to choose between them, but I sure can't say it's any fun. I don't want to let either of them down.

If you want more pictures, I'm going to be lazy and just point you to facebook. I made the album public, so you should be able to see it without having an account. Enjoy!

http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150356693996879.342074.529831878&type=1&l=0ec408b3bb

It's a girl!

2011-11-12T23:41:00.001-06:00

Forgive the short post. It's hard to type, you see, because my baby girl is on my chest right now!

Charlotte Corrina was born at 1:03pm on 11/12/11. She weighed 5lb 2oz and is 18.5" long. She did require a little bagging in the O.R. but once they got her going, she took right over and did great. They took her to the regular nursery while I was in recovery and brought her to me to room in about 3 hours later. Completely amazing. She has a head full of hair, the edges of which are blonde.

She has latched on, but is having a hard time staying awake to nurse for any length of time. But right now her blood sugars are good and she wet appropriately, so we're just giving her some time to get it.

We are currently in the world's smallest hospital room in Labor and Delivery as I have to stay on mag for 24 hours. I'm having some insane contractions and had to have an extra dose of pain meds, but other than that, I'm doing great, too.

Robbie met her and was.. well.. not impressed. He hadn't had a nap and had been at the hospital (with our parents) all day, so I'm sure that didn't help. He mostly just did not want to get anywhere near her. That's okay, the whole situation is pretty weird, after all.

Without further ado, meet Charlotte:

Coming back to add another:

It's baby day.

2011-11-12T09:21:00.001-06:00

The peri rounded a few minutes ago and he's not happy with my pressures. The calls are being made.

It's baby day.

I'm scared out of my wits.

Trish

Small improvements.

2011-11-12T00:00:00.001-06:00

Started the day with much better readings then yesterday. My first two BPs of the day were well below 140/90. There was hootin' and hollerin' to be heard.

This afternoon, they were back up in the 155/98 range, but at least they stayed below 160/100 today. And tonight I had another 138/86 reading. The OB partner who rounded today said that as long as I'm getting some lower reading between the high ones, that's a good sign and we can keep truckin'.

The peri didn't have a lot to say today except for usual lecture about how if anything gets worse, the baby comes. Yeah, pretty sure they've mentioned that.

The resident actually rounded first. I told her right away that I have a cold because I could feel the headache coming and I didn't want everyone to freak out about it. It was not a BP headache, it was a sinus headache. She wrote orders for a half dozen cold symptom treatments even though I didn't necessarily need or want them. But at least they're on the books. Really, the worst of it at this point is the sore throat.

I got a flu shot and a massage today. The former was almost as pleasant as the latter. The massage therapist wouldn't use ANY force because she was concerned about my blood pressure. I was frustrated. I swear to you, Robbie could give me a massage with more pressure than what I got today. It was relaxing and I fell asleep, but of course, I woke up just as sore as I went to sleep. Five days in a hospital bed are not too comfortable.

Other than that, it was a pretty quiet day. I had no visitors save for Robbie, David and my MIL for dinner. There was no antepartum floor class today. The floor is 100% full and the nurses are busy, so I barely saw them, either. I spent the day napping and watching TV online, mostly.

Even my NST was quick today. The baby got active just as I got there, so I was in and out in 20 minutes- no jiggling or snacking or repositioning necessary.

Robbie is still doing well, though my MIL said he wanted to come to the hospital instead of going to school this morning, and as soon as they picked him up from school, he wanted to come here immediately. They stopped for gas on the way and I guess he was upset at the interruption. Of course, it's funny because when he gets here, it's like pulling teeth to get him to even acknowledge me. He's more interested in playing in the closet.

I am having a little bit of a hard time that when he's upset he's going to my MIL for comfort and not me. Usually I'm choice #1 but right now, she's his source of comfort. She tries to encourage him to come to me, but he'll cry for grandma instead. I know it's only natural. Probably some part of him feels like I have abandoned him. But it still makes me sad.

At this point, I'm still hoping to make 36 weeks. I don't know if it's going to happen or not. Who knows, maybe we'll make it to Thanksgiving week, but as all the doctors keep telling me (and keep telling me.. and keep telling me.. and keep telling me..) we're day by day now.

I'm just hoping that if things go sideways quickly, there will be time for David to get here first. Living 45 minutes from the hospital makes things pretty tense. If they decide I have to go NOW, I may be alone. I know we'll handle whatever comes, but I don't like that thought much. But David needs to be at home with Robbie sometimes, too, so staying here all the time just isn't an option.

Anyway, today was a better day. The best I can ask for now is another stable day tomorrow and then we'll worry about anything after that as it comes. Please keep up the prayers. I believe they are responsible for our small improvement today.

Trish

Still here

2011-11-11T01:34:00.001-06:00

Today was a rough day.
My blood pressure started out about 168/100. That's not a good way to start the day. The earned me a visit from the resident right way. fortunately it did come down a little, before spiking back up in the afternoon again.

The peri on today was Dr. Sunshine. I'm certain his face didn't help my BP, either. Yet again, he came in and introduced himself with a "nice to meet you." Never mind that I've met the man umpteen times and presumably he glanced at my chart and could see he own notes on it.

He does not want me on blood pressure meds. His feeling is that because I do not have hypertension outside of pregnancy, if my BP is going up, it's because I'm getting sicker and if i'm getting sicker, the baby needs to come out. At 35 weeks, the good to the baby is smaller than the risk to me. They're not going to let me get as sick as I did with Robbie. As much as I dislike the man, I couldn't argue the point.

Later in the day, my BP stabilized in the 150s/90s. Obviously that's crappy, but the threshold they're looking for is 160/100, so at least it was stabilized at a point that I can stay pregnant at.

Emotionally, I can't say I took it all very well. I'm really beginning to doubt my ability to make it much further. I'm hoping for at least 36, but we'll see. I wish I felt more confident, but I don't.

My NST in the peri center went well. The baby was very sleepy today but we finally got her moving and she passed all her tests. My labs were drawn in the morning and they were all normal/stable.

I went to the floor's daily "class" for what amounted to our social time. One of the moms was being discharged today and everyone was a bit emotional. She obviously wanted to go home, but was nervous, too. Another mom was down in L&D with variables in her baby. My nurse came in at one point to take my blood pressure and it was still crappy.

We started talking about things and before I knew it I'd started crying. I apologized and of course, the other moms were as supportive as could be. "Please, I cry ALL the time." We talked about our feelings of failure. Of guilt over being tired of being here, wanting to be done, but knowing our babies aren't. Both of the moms with me have experienced losses, one of them also infertility. It was good to feel less alone, but also didn't drag me out of my pity party very well.

Back in my room, one of the chaplains came by. As soon as she walked in, I had to fight tears. She is very kind and I guess that was more than I could take. We talked a while about feeling down. She was a comfort, but of course, my pity party continued.

I called home to see how my MIL was doing with Robbie. They were having a nice day, but she told me that at one point they were watching the leaves fall off the trees and blow down the street. Robbie told her that the leaves were going down the street to the hospital- to visit Mommy. My heart broke into a thousand pieces. More tears.

I had eaten lunch but the baby wasn't moving. I tried all the usual tricks to get her going with no luck. Eventually I was so freaked that I called my nurse to come with the Doppler just to ease my mind. Just as she came in, my OB's partner came in for rounds. We talked about my crappy day. She was very kind. She gave me a pep talk. She also said she's going to assist my OB with my C-section and mentioned that they were likely scheduling it for Monday or Tuesday before Thanksgiving. That would be 36+3or4. I hope I can make it that far.

The evening was a bit better. My dad visited. A friend. Then David and my MIL brought Robbie up for dinner. That actually lead to more panic, though. Robbie is getting yet another cold. He hadn't even finished breathing treatments from his last cold and tonight he was a snotty mess and coughing already.

I'm scared that the baby will need to come in the next few days and Robbie will be sick. If the baby's lungs aren't mature, that's terrifying. If she needs to go to the NICU for any reason, Robbie certainly can't visit. And he could get me sick and lead to problems there as well. I really need this baby to stay in until Robbie's no longer contagious. Preferably another week. I need my body to cooperate a little longer.

At 26 weeks, if you'd have asked me how I'd feel at 35 weeks, I'd have told you that 37 would be better, but 35 was great. But here I sit at 35, still scared out of my wits. I want my baby to have every opportunity for health. I do not want to go to the NICU again. I don't want to live in fear of every cough and sniffle.

I know that even full term babies get sick. Sometimes they end up in the NICU. Sometimes they get asthma. There are no guarantees in parenting. But I want to give this baby the best chance to avoid those things that I possibly can. And it just pisses me off that my body is trying to steal that AGAIN.

I know that I have so many blessings. Being here isn't all bad. The cookies are good. As is the endless supply of hot water. Knowing that I'm minutes from the OR if I need to be is comforting. And I haven't had to fix myself a glass of water in 4 days.

David is proving to be the man of the hour all over again. I worry that he's going to exhaust himself, but he insists on taking care of everything. tonight he even told me he wanted to have a date-night on Saturday. He'll bring Robbie up to visit during the day, but then my MIL will keep him that evening. David will get take-out from somewhere close to the hospital and come watch a movie with me. He couldn't possibly be any more thoughtful or sweet.

And I'm trying to focus on that. My friends with 35ish weekers have shared their stories of success. And those help a lot. I'm focusing on those quite a bit. I just hope that I can be one of them if I have to.

Is it 36 weeks yet?

--Trish

35

2011-11-10T01:30:00.000-06:00

Made it to 35!
Today was the busiest day imaginable for a bedrest momma who is technically doing nothing. Between visitors (whom I love, btw!) and my antepartum craft class, 2 visits to the peri center (they forgot to do part of my monitoring the first time), and a visit with Robbie & David tonight, I didn't have more than 20 minutes of down time all day until about 7:30. And then I took a very much needed nap.

Tonight is the first night that after everyone left and the quiet set in that I didn't feel empty and lonely. I guess that means I'm adjusting. Prayers being answered, for sure.

My pressures have been fairly consistently in the 150s/90s. That sucks, but I suppose for now, it's stable. No labs today except the monitoring, which went great. Baby looks good, fluid was almost 14, blood flows perfect. The u/s tech actually gasped at how chubby the baby's cheeks are now. No one has had a good look at her face in a while because she's been so low in my pelvis for so long. I spent some time on my head today to get her to move up a little so she cold get the blood flows, so we got to see her face a bit.

I have not started on BP meds yet. My OB didn't mention it at rounds and I was still so groggy when she came in (I had JUST woke up before she walked in) that I didn't think to ask. I'll ask tomorrow and see what they think. It is my OB's day off, so it will be a partner, but we'll see what she says.

My day nurse was pretty decent, just not overly friendly. She did make me smile tonight, though because she came in for vitals while Robbie was here and seemed impressed with him. He was pointing out all the letters of the alphabet in a book (The boy is currently obsessed with letters) and she was saying that he was doing things that her 6yo is doing now. I'm so used to people pointing out his..um.. deficiencies?.... that it's pretty awesome when someone besides me sees how amazing he is.

I have the same night nurse that I had last night, but she seems a lot better tonight than she was. It might have helped that she was in while my OB was rounding and my OB was also celebrating my 310 protein with me and actually said something about my knowledge of my disease and such. Maybe the nurse works with a lot of people who aren't, and now that she realizes I'm not an idiot, she can stop talking to me like one. We actually had a really nice chat earlier. A friendly nurse sure does ease the dreariness.

Right now the plan is close monitoring and hoping to deliver pretty close to 37 weeks. My OB is fine with the peri's plan of pushing it closer to 37 than 36. She mentioned either the day before or the day after Thanksgiving. I like the idea of the day after Thanksgiving because that would give me an actual term baby, vs being a day shy of it with the day before. But logically I know that the difference of 2 days probably isn't going to matter much and I need to let go of MY plan and just accept God's.

Right now I'm focusing on a day at a time. Thirty five is a great step that I will celebrate. And thirty six will be even better.

--Trish

Hospital day 2

2011-11-09T00:31:00.001-06:00

It seems I'm here for the duration- whatever that duration may be.

My blood pressures have continued to be pretty crappy. Consistently in the 150s/~90.
The good news was that my 24 hour catch showed my protein down a bit again to 310. My OB was considering putting me on a low dose blood pressure med as long as my kidneys were looking okay to see if that could help me limp along a little longer.

Shes said that if the meds completely corrected my BP, I might be able to go home, but didn't seem like she thought that was likely. Tonight, the peri said I'm here to stay, period.

They both agree that I'm to deliver in the 36th week. She leaned towards early 36 weeks, he leaned towards later, but both warned me that I am day-to-day and we'll just have to see how it goes. If anything worsens, I deliver, period.

The day was actually fairly busy. David took the morning off and spent part of the day with me, then I had a visitor. Then a trip down to the peri center for a growth scan (baby looked great, measuring about 5lb 5oz) then back just in time to take a breastfeeding in the NICU class here on the antepartum floor. That was mostly 20 minutes of "how to assemble a pump" (a class I could have taught, obviously) and then another 2 hours of chit-chat with the other moms. My nurse had heavily encouraged me to attend more for the social aspects and because she thought the other moms would like to hear my NICU experience, so I went and was glad I did.

This evening another friend came by, and David brought my mother-in-law and Robbie up for a visit and my dad came by and we all had dinner in my room.

It was so good to see Robbie. He has handled everything fine so far. This morning he said on the phone "Mommy is in the hospital. Mommy have a baby!" and seemed to accept that. He seemed more confused that grandma, grandpa and mommy & daddy were all in this hospital with him than anything. When they left for the evening, he said "bye-bye mommy!" pretty cheerfully several times. I sobbed as soon as they walked out the door, but I was relieved he wasn't upset, too.

I don't expect I'll get to see him every day, but hopefully a few days a week, my MIL is going to bring him up after school for a little while. She's staying with him until I get home. We're incredibly fortunate she was able to do so. She does work but is taking a leave to stay with us while we need the help.

Keeping busy during the day was nice, but the quiet after everyone was gone was sort of deafening. My night nurse isn't what I would call perky. Definitely no chit-chat with her. She was pretty sour, honestly. When I asked her for my protein level and was happy it was 310 she was very quick to remind me that 310 is "STILL pre-eclamptic." I explained nicely that I was aware of that, but that's been normal for me since 26 weeks so while it's bad, it's stable and that's what I need for now. Instead of being understanding, she seemed more annoyed "well, I guess it's good we got you this far, then." So I celebrated alone. I suppose I should get used to it. Hospital bedrest isn't for the faint of heart.

I will do what I can to attend the approved activities (the word "activity" used loosely here..) during the day so that I am not sitting in bed wallowing all day. I'm focused on knowing that we're looking at 2 weeks of this and I know these two weeks are more important to the baby than to me or Robbie or David. There is no denying that the situation sucks, though.

Of course, it's the little things right now that make or break me. The maintenance man fixed my air conditioner today and I told him I was naming the baby after him. (Shh.. that might have been a lie.) David found a piece of German chocolate cake in the cafeteria that I'm hoarding for comfort eating at some point.

Beyond the obvious things (my son, my husband) that I miss, I miss my TiVo, my bed and my bathtub. My back is already killing me and I'm only 2 days into this. I'm grateful it's only a few weeks. One of the moms in the group today is 28 weeks with twins, has been here 4 weeks and is expected to be stuck here until delivery. And she has a 2yo at home. She wins the pain Olympics there for sure.

All in all, it was an emotional day, but I'm hoping to settle into a new routine soon so that the whole thing feels a little less surreal. Probably about the time this starts to feel normal, the baby will come and then our whole world will be turned upside down again. Though hopefully in a much better way.

--Trish

Hospital

2011-11-08T00:35:00.004-06:00

Things I have learned today:

The beds in labor and delivery are superior to the beds in triage, but still far inferior to the beds in the antepartum department.

The smell of the hallway in front of the NICU still makes my stomach churn.
Not every room in the hospital is freezing. In fact, some of them are downright hot.

Yes, I'm in the hospital. This weekend, my blood pressures were creeping up a little. Not alarmingly, but a little. This morning at my monitoring, my NST was great (fluid and baby both in great shape) but my BP was 140/90.
I saw my OB a few hours later, and it was 152/90. Pretty sure it was the fastest OB appointment in history. She basically came in and said I was misbehaving and had to go to the hospital.

She did let me go home to get my stuff, there was no threat of an ambulance ride like with Robbie. My urine dip was trace, so they weren't freaking out, but with my history, they're not taking any chances.

So I met my dad at home to trade vehicles so that he could get Robbie from school, I threw the few things that haven't been packed for 2 months (phone charger, etc) into a bag, and met David at the hospital. In L&D, my BPs were good, one as low as 132/70, and my labs were okay.

That won me the ability to eat and drink (I was NPO for several hours in case I had to be drug straight off to the O.R.) and got me transferred up to antepartum.

Antepartum is much more comfortable overall, but apparently I can't turn the heat off in here. The thermostat is down to 55, but it's about 80 instead. Pretty sure that's contributing to my higher blood pressures again as well.

My nurse is great and just came in to take it again -156/94 and I told her I think the heat is exacerbating the problem, so my door is open with a fan going and I have an ice pack and she's going to take it again in a little bit, but honestly, 156/94 is pretty crappy.

When my pressures were lower and my labs were okay earlier, I thought there was a better than average chance I was going home tomorrow, but now I'm not so sure.

Either way, 38 weeks is off the table. My OB is now looking at 36-37 weeks. Hopefully I can hold off 2 more weeks. I hope I don't have to be in the hospital for those 2 weeks.

We do have a plan in place for Robbie's care if it comes to that and I know that the baby needs these 2 weeks more than Robbie needs me at home, but this really sucks.

I otherwise feel fine. No epigastric pain, no vision troubles, no headache (started to get one earlier, but food fixed it), no swelling to speak of. I just miss my son and my husband (who went home to be with Robbie.)

What I know is the preeclampsia is an awful bitch and I'm sick of it. My first reaction to my BP this afternoon was anger. I stifled the urge to scream obscenities while in the OB's office, but my internal dialogue all the way home was pretty much "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck this. Fuck." That seemed to sum it up pretty clearly.

It's amazing how a matter of a few hours, I went from daydreaming about a 38 weeker, planning my breastfeeding class (supposed to be tomorrow, btw.), and worrying about juggling two kids to hoping my baby knows how to suck, swallow, AND breathe at the same time.

I know that I'm staring down the barrel of 35 weeks and that's a lot better than the 26 Robbie got. But That's still 5 weeks early and those 5 weeks matter. I'm sick of my body short-changing my babies. (Which I've really got to relive since I've had to give my obstetric history approximately 143 times today, including both miscarriages, the polyp, and apparently they even care that all 4 pregnancies were the result of A.R.T.)

I'm trying to focus on the positive and hope for the best. I haven't cried or thrown anything (yet) but this still sucks.

Trish

34

2011-11-03T02:38:00.004-05:00

THIRTY. FOUR.

I don't even know what to say. November is about gratitude and man do I have it. It's still too early.. this baby deserves as much time to grow and develop as possible- but this was the point my OB was really hoping for. "Every day past 34 is gravy." were her words. When things went kinda haywire at 26, I really don't think she thought we'd see this day, but here we are.

At this point, if the baby came, there's a possibility s/he could come home with us. Not necessarily, hell, things go sideways even with termies, I am keenly aware of that. But it's a possibility. Which is amazing to me.

I'm still nervous about the baby coming early, but things like worries about nursing and handling two kids and surviving those beginning months of exhaustion are starting to top my list. I mean, I'm also dreading c-section pain and magnesium sulfate (which I'm *probably* going to have to have, if not before delivery, then afterward) and things that come with my own situation, but it's part of a bigger picture now.

We're still settling on names. It will be Charlotte or Elliot, but middle names weren't as easily decided. David has the most exhaustive list of exclusions that you can imagine. Sometimes his history-nerdiness is more annoying than others. If the history of a particular name doesn't suit him, or honors some long-lost King I've never heard of that he doesn't like, then it's out. And then he spends so much time making up stupid names to be "funny" that sometimes I want to throttle him. We'll figure it out, though.

We didn't decide on Robbie's name until the delivery room. There is a lot of gray haziness about his birth, but I remember someone (the NICU director, I think) asking "Do we have a name?" and David standing up quietly, looking at Robbie (whom I hadn't seen yet) and declaring "Robert Michael." It was the name he'd wanted to start with, but I wasn't sure and finally we agreed to figure it out when we saw him. He could have been Gregory Michael instead. That seems weird now.

Robbie still doesn't seem to get the concept of brotherhood. We've explained about the baby over and over again, and asked him if he wants a brother or sister. He'll tell you a sister. Until you ask if he wants a sister or brother, and then he wants a brother. He always picks the second choice. I'm told that's some sort of human nature quirk. We're more likely to pick the last choice.

Tonight, however, David asked him if he was going to have a sister or brother and he said very resoundingly, "A SISTER!" That surprised us since it hadn't been the 2nd option and he seemed so sure. Then David asked what his sister's name would be. Robbie grinned and replied, "Ummmm.. FLUFFY CAT!" and then fell down laughing at himself. David and I just rolled. We have a long-haired cat that both David and Robbie call fluffy. Maybe he wants a clone of her. They are pretty good buddies. I don't know if something has finally clicked in Robbie's brain to get what a brother or sister is, but it was an adorable moment. But this baby still better not have whiskers.

I still don't know which way I lean. I say "she" mostly, but I did the same with Robbie and you see how that turned out. I've got both boy and girl newborn clothes ready for the hospital just in case. Buying the girl stuff sure was fun. There are so many more choices for girls. But brothers would be so cute, too. And we already have so much boy stuff. In the end, I really am okay either way. And that's not just politically correct "we just want a healthy baby" talk.

I'm feeling well, really. My blood pressure has still been cooperative. I'm miserable in only the usual ways. The baby presses on my lungs and I can't breathe, or presses on my bladder and I pee 120 times a day. My back and my pelvis both ache. I am not sleeping well at all. I'm still getting morning sickness occasionally. The heartburn has eased up a fair bit, but I had a rough day today anyway. But I wouldn't have it any other way. I still thinking feeling her move around is the coolest thing ever. Even when she is kicking the crap out of my already crabby liver, I think "oh look!" and poke at her to get a response.

Having been at least chubby, and outrightly fat for most of my life, I've never had a fond relationship with my tummy, but now I stare at it in wonder and awe. Sometimes I just lay in bed and stare, waiting for some movement or pondering what's going to happen to my belly button if I make it a few more weeks. I'm still really an innie, but it's taken on a whole new shape lately. It's fascinating.

I know this is the last time I'm going to do this. And truthfully, I'm relieved. The stress both on my body and my mind have not been slight. And there are things that I'm most assuredly looking forward to once the baby comes. (Lunch meat, margaritas, ibuprofen, to name a few.) But I'm also trying to be diligent about enjoying this while I can. Not every one gets this opportunity at all, and I won't again. I know I'll miss it.

The time to miss it is soon. At the outside edge, the baby will be here in 4 weeks. And since I'm pretty much betting we're looking at 37 weeks as a best case scenario, it might only be 3. Or even less. So I really am just trying to take in the last bits of this amazing time and ignore (or..grunt and groan through...) the uncomfortable parts. Today, I celebrate 34 weeks. Time will tell if we get to see 35.

--Trish

Hedging my bets

2011-11-02T02:47:00.000-05:00

Mondays have been "doctor days" for a while. For a few months, Monday meant either a visit to the OB, a visit to the peri center or both. From here on out, it means both. That meant spending upwards of 4 hours at the hospital yesterday.

I started at the peri center. They are notoriously slow. I rarely spend less than an hour waiting to be called back. Every Monday I get a story about how it's a "crazy day." Even though I'm often one of only 3 or 4 patients that I see the entire time, so I don't really get it. Whatever, I've learned to bring a book and take a loveseat behind reception instead of a chair across from it. You can't get a cell signal in front, you see.

Things went fine. Had my favorite u/s tech again. Baby is "running out of room" (not news to me!), very low (also not news to me!) and has a lot of hair. (surprise fun!) Fluid looked good, all was well. Off to the NST which I passed in 20 minutes. BP was 118/72, I think. Good and low, anyway.

My OB appt was a short time later. I had to kill a little time, but again- I brought a book! (Outlander by Diana Gabaldon. SO GOOD.) Dr. G was very excited, as usual. It's fun that I basically bring good news just by walking in the door every Monday. People are happy to see me like at no other time in life.

We discussed the big question of the moment- when to deliver. I told her that our favorite peri said I could schedule for 38 with the understanding that if anything went sideways, we deliver. She decided to see how my labs went this week, but as long as everything was stable, she was going to schedule me for December 1 - 38 weeks exactly.

There were a few other smaller details, discussing hospital stay time, getting her okay to take the breastfeeding class at the hospital, confirming when to stop taking the aspirin, but after that, I had my labs drawn and was on my way, quite pleased.

And then today, one of the nurses called with my lab results. I don't usually get them until Wednesday, so I was surprised anyway, but then she said my protein was up again. 391. Not horrifying or anything, and my BP is still fine (120ish/80ish most of the day today) and my ALT was actually down even further (34- that's good!) but my blasted kidneys just weren't happy.

As of now, nothing really changes. Dr. G planned to discuss the results with the peri lab and see what they thought. I'm not to do anything differently for the time being and will discuss it further on Monday at my next appointment. I'll be 34 weeks on Thursday, which is a big milestone that I'm happy to see. But I don't know if I'm going to see 38. We'll see what she says on Monday, I suppose.

I'm not freaking out or anything. But I am rather annoyed. I swear it's like my body just doesn't want me to get too excited. I'm still hoping we can make 37. But I'm also finding myself doing a little bargaining "still 37.. or at least 36.. but well.. surely 35, right?" And then I snap myself out of it and remind myself that I won't know until I know and we'll handle it either way.

I had a strong feeling about November before I even got pregnant again, and here we are- November. While I'd love to deliver in the month that I'm due (December) November is a fine month, too. Hell, at least we're getting the season right this time. Robbie would due in the fall and it was still spring when he came.

In any case, feel free to say a few extra prayers for my kidneys to calm down for at least a few more weeks. We're close, but not there yet.

As a reward, I'll offer you Robbie as Prince Charming on Halloween:

--Trish

33

2011-10-27T03:09:00.003-05:00

And here I am 7 weeks more pregnant than I made it with Robbie. That's sort of insane to me. I remember Robbie at 7 weeks old. He was off the vent, but still on CPAP. I'd gone back to work and was trying to split my time between working and being with him. He was still beyond tiny. Chello already likely weighs more than Robbie did when he came home from the hospital on his actual due date. It's a lot to wrap my mind around.

David came to bed just after midnight tonight and I said "Hey baby?" "Yeah?" "Thirty three weeks." He grinned a sly smile and whispered "wow." We're both just in awe.

A friend from the NICU brought me lunch yesterday. Her daughter was Robbie's NICU girlfriend, born at 25 weeks. We talked about how we never even new the 32/33 weeker families. They were there and gone before we could even say hello. I'm sure it didn't seem that way to THEM, but we were both there 14 or so weeks. It seemed like the blink of an eye and they were gone.

This week's labs were amazing. No protein this week because it was my pee-jug-break week, but my ALT was down essentially to normal. Not "Trish Normal." I mean actual normal. It should be 40 or under and it was 41. There a bunch of other tests that I don't usually bother with the numbers on, but apparently everything was improved this week. Funny, too, because it was David's birthday and between that and a lunch one day, I had 3 restaurant meals last week. I tried to make good choices, of course, but it's difficult to keep your sodium down with anything out. And yet this week's results were the best in months. I think this means I need more Italian food, right?

My blood pressures have been a little unstable. I've had to watch them more closely and focus on relaxing to get them down a bit. Nothing terrifying, just creeping up towards 140/90 sometimes and I get anxious (which doesn't help.) Last night I ended up with a horror-movie quality nose-bleed and the first thing I thought about was my platelets. Eventually I got it stopped and I was fine (and my blood was clotting while I watched, so really, it was fine) but it was gross and a reminder of how quickly things can change.

Otherwise things are quiet here. I've been reading a ton. I wanted to read 50 books this year. 6 weeks of bed rest has made that easy, I finished #51 tonight. (The Hunger Games- Two thumbs way up!) I watch a ridiculous amount of TV and make lots of lists. Robbie had his first school field trip today. They went to the pumpkin patch. I was very sad not to be able to go with him but my dad went and they had a great time.

My anxiety level has been creeping up a little again, though. It's funny because I was doing better for a while, but I think being able to almost reach out and touch full term makes me feel vulnerable that it could still be snatched away. Probably in a similar way to how 24 weeks made me more nervous, not less. Logically I know that even if the baby came now, she'd likely do well, but I also know that a preemie is still a preemie and you can't count on anything.

My favorite peri okayed scheduled my c-section at 38 weeks. Of course, he warned that if I start having any kind of regular contractions (even if I'm not feeling them) or if my labs worsen, that's it. But he doesn't think an amnio is necessary. He says we plan for the best and if something changes, we deal with it then. That's what I wanted him to say, so it made me happy. I go back to the OB on Monday and will hopefully be scheduling my section for 5 weeks from today. That would be December 1.

I'm trying not to get really hung up on that date. I've always had the feeling that we were having a baby in November, and I know that things can change in a matter of hours with preeclampsia, but the notion that I am having a baby in 5 weeks or less is pretty surreal.

Chello has been pretty active most days and I find myself thinking "wow, I'm really going to miss this." I have absolutely zero doubts about this being our last pregnancy. I'd love to raise more kids, ideally adopting out of foster care, but even if I can ever get David on board that plan, I KNOW I can't take another pregnancy. We got pregnant relatively easy this time (for a couple of old infertiles anyway) but this is clearly an insult to my body and the stress is just crazy. I think even my OB would disown me if I suggested it.

I also know this is an amazing experience that not everyone gets the opportunity to have. I get to feel my baby kick inside me. Sometimes I can even tell which body part is doing what. Sometimes I poke and she pokes back, seemingly saying "Leave me alone!" She gets pissed off at the monitors and goes all crazy for a few minutes when they strap them on. This one has a temper. Oh boy! Sometimes her reactions to things makes me laugh. Robbie has a flute that he loves to make horrible screeching sounds on and Chello will kick. I think she's telling us to keep it down out here. These are special moments that I will miss.

For now I'm just trying to treasure them and each day that I get to experience them. Thirty four is a huge milestone in pregnancy and I'm looking forward to it coming. But right now, 33 feels pretty damned good.

Trish

32

2011-10-21T02:08:00.001-05:00

Made it to 32!

Monday's OB appointment was.. surprising.
My OB was overjoyed at being at 31.5 weeks. You really can tell she's shocked, but in a great way. She actually said I may go full term. She did say it with some skepticism, but just the fact that she dares to hope was nice to hear.

We talked about Dr. Bitchy's desire for an amnio. She wanted to know how I felt about it. I said that I understood it, but was a bit confused since I thought it had already been decided that it didn't matter. My plan is to talk with my favorite peri at my next check there (next Monday.) She was fine with that but warned me that he is typically more conservative as well, so he's probably more likely to also want the amnio. If he does, that's fine, but I trust his opinion more than the others, so I'd like to hear his thoughts.

We discussed the all important timing of the C-section. And this is where it got interesting. I said that I wished we could go to 38 weeks, but I understood that we had to be conservative with my uterus. She actually shrugged and said "Well, you know.. if you're like you are now, we might be able to do that."

I almost fell off the exam table. I said "REALLY? How far can we push my uterus?" And she basically gave me the Very Serious Tone and said "IF you aren't contracting, we MIGHT be able to schedule you for exactly 38 weeks." I got that she was giving me the "don't get your hopes up" speech, but I think she really wants to give me what I want if it's safe. I seriously almost cried.

I know it's early, but so far I've only felt one contraction and that was in the hospital last week when I was dehydrated. Not unexpected. Now, of course, this would require a good deal of luck on my part and if there's anything we've established, I'm not really the luckiest procreator in the world, but even the possibility is pretty darned exciting to me.

It wasn't all sunshine and roses. She did kinda catch me off-guard at one point. We were discussing timing of appointments and how I had been comfortable not having an NST this week (they left it up to me) because of how things had been going and how closely I had been watching my blood pressures at home. She said "yeah, that's the only reason you're not in the hospital. Anyone else, you'd have been there. I trust you to keep a close eye on things and call if anything is wrong." That was sobering. I knew she meant it as a compliment -"what a great patient you are!" but it was a very real reminder that things are not As They Should Be.

However, in other good news of the week was that this week's labs were downright great for me. My protein was actually down in the 280s. It hasn' been under 300 in 6 weeks, so that was cool. My ALT was down in the 60s which is still kinda cruddy, but probably still a little below what I've come to think of as "Trish normal." And my AST was 28, which is actually REAL normal. I guess last week's crappy labs can officially be deemed a symptom of the plague and dehydration.

While my body isn't exactly performing fantastically, it's trying pretty hard. I'll give it credit. We're at 32 weeks. When the doctor is giving you steroid shots at 26 weeks, you really don't expect to see this milestone. Or at least, I didn't. I'm pretty thrilled.

Outside of the medical stuff, I'm doing pretty good. I've definitely hit the uncomfortable stage. Sometimes the baby is on my lungs and I can barely breathe. I pretty much feel like I have to pee 24/7. And I'm fairly certain the floor is getting further away because it sure seems like a long way to pick up a sock these days. It's still mostly amusing to me. I'm down about 8 pounds from my pre-pregnancy weight, so I'm not any fatter, but everything is definitely rearranged and making moving around more difficult. I'm sure bed rest is only making that worse since my muscles are probably atrophying as I type this.

I also seem to have insomnia. I think it's ironic that I spend so much time laying down and so little time sleeping. I'm sure it's a combination of hormones and just the fact that all this laying around doing nothing screws with a body's rhythm. I'm trying to think of it as practice for a newborn, but I know there's no such thing. Fortunately all this doing nothing doesn't require a lot of energy, so for now I'm getting by. All in all, I think I'm doing pretty well for an 8 month pregnant woman with cranky body organs. Every day is an answer to prayers.

Bring on 33.

Trish

Misconceptions

2011-10-16T02:06:00.001-05:00

Since I was sick on Monday, I had rescheduled my peri appointment for Friday. They did my weekly labs at the hospital on Monday (to rule out pre-e) and the nurse told me that she called my OB with the results "they were fine with them." so I figured that part was taken care of.

Thursday, my OB's office called and wondered if I'd gone in for labs. I explained about the hospital. She insisted I needed to have them drawn anyway. I was confused, but whatever. I had to go to the peri center on Friday anyway (which attaches to my OB's building by a walkway) so I'd just have them drawn on Friday while I was there.

My per appointment went fine, if slow. I swear they are the most inefficient office in history and since we're now adding weekly NSTs to my appointments, that meant 2.5 hours to get a growth check and NST. Growth looked good. Chello measured 49%, estimated weight 3lb 12 oz. She was active and moving around. My fluid was an 11. They checked my weight (down 5 pounds for the pregnancy), BP (122/72) and urine dip (trace). Then I had my first NST. Chello had the hiccups at the beginning, which was cute. She got what she needed and it was fine.

Dr. Bitchy was there that day and she was unusually chipper. She said I looked great on paper. She wants me to schedule my c-section. She said she wants me to have an amnio and deliver just before 37 weeks or in the 37th week w/o one. I explained that it doesn't seem to appear I'm going to make it that far, and she agreed, but wants it on the books anyway. I was a bit confused because Dr. Sunshine actually said he wouldn't bother with an amnio and just deliver anyway because he'd rather be a few days short of lung maturity than risk my uterus rupturing and that's why we'd planned on steroid shots at 34 weeks no matter what. I told her I already had steroids, she was pleased I'd had them, but still wants the amnio. She wrote a note to my OB to tell her as much.

Then I went off to my OB's office. I still wasn't sure why I even needed it, but whatever, it's just a blood draw. Thank goodness needles don't bother me. When I got there, the phlebotomist came to get me and as we were walking back, she asked one of the nurses to tell my OB I'd made it in, then explained that she'd been looking for me. Again, this struck me as odd because I already had labs this week, but whatever.

As we're back in the room, my OB wanders by, sees me and comes in, saying "Oh good! I was wondering where you were!" (Mind you, I didn't have an appointment with her, so she just meant for labs.) I expressed my dismay about doing them again and she said "well, they were so elevated at the hospital, we needed to check them again." Elevated? What happened to "fine?"

Apparently my AST was in the 50s, my ALT in the 90s and my protein was 2+. Not what most would call "fine." The hope was that it was because I was sick and dehydrated, but obviously it needed to be watched. Cue annoyance with the hospital. I wish I'd have insisted on the numbers when I was there, but frankly by that point I was just relieved to be able to sit upright and go home. I figured fine was fine and I'd get the details later.

In any case, my OB asked if the peri lab had checked my urine & BP and was happy to hear that everything had been normal. The phlebotomist had been attempting to get blood the whole time w/o success. She declared that I was still dehydrated despite the fact that I'd been drinking water even while in the peri lab. Because my checks that morning had been okay, Dr. G said we could just wait until Monday and do the whole workup (24 hour urine included) then if she couldn't get it.

She also looked at the note from my peri, also expressed dismay at the amnio recommendation and shook her head. The phlebotomist finally declared defeat to my veins (I now really look like a heroine addict) and said we'd do it all Monday.

It really only makes sense that being sick would have screwed with my labs on Monday. I was super sick, for sure. I just really hope that next week's labs bear that out. I'm thrilled to be at 31 weeks at all, plus not in the hospital, but I still really have my heart set on November.

Now I'm going to vent a little.

A lot of people seem to be REALLY hung up on the whole 37 weeks delivery. I'm getting a lot of disapproving comments and looks about not being able to 1) delivery vaginally and 2) do so closer to 40 weeks. Truthfully, it's starting to get to me a bit.

I wish that those things were options as well, but unfortunately that's something that preeclampsia took from me. Robbie was born via classic c-section. That means my uterus was cut vertically instead of horizontally that way is normally done these days. That weakens the muscles of the uterus quite a bit leaving me at risk of rupture if I were to labor. As a matter of fact, Dr. G mentioned that part of her concern with the dehydration on Monday was that it could cause contractions which she does not want on my c-section scar.

When I was admitted to the hospital to have Robbie, Dr. G was very kind in explaining both how Robbie would have to be delivered and what it meant for the future. I had been hoping for a med-free delivery with him, so of course I was disappointed, but it meant less stress on Robbie and less risk of brain bleeding, so it was never in question that it needed to happen.

Then, there is also the fact that my organs are not happy. The longer I am pregnant, the more damage I am likely doing to them. My kidneys, in particular, concern me. When Robbie was born, my proteinuria was at 9,000. Remember that it only takes three HUNDRED to qualify as preeclampsia. Nine THOUSAND was my number. That's kidney failure level. Everyone was actually surprised they worked as well as they did after that kind of insult. Right now I'm living in the land of 300-400. That's not awful, but not great, either. And they really don't need any more damage.

And as I get more and more unhealthy, there are also risks to Chello as well. If she's not getting the blood flow she needs, her growth and development are at risk as well. This is why I'll be having an NST every week from here on out. If she starts to show signs of stress, she may well be better out than in.

Even if things don't get significantly worse in the next 6 weeks, my doctor has to balance the benefit of Chello in the womb for a few extra days vs extra stress on my organs. All of that combined means they're going to err on the side of caution when it comes to picking a time for Chello to come.

It isn't that I don't wish for more time. I'd love 38 weeks. I'd love 40 weeks. But most important is as healthy a mom and baby as possible. That's why Chello will be coming when she will. Not because I'm lazy or misinformed or my doctor is lazy or whatever it is that people seem to imply when they express their opinions on my birth plans.

I realize that there is a large contingent of people for whom things like "The Business of Being Born" is their bible. And good for them. I'm glad they have the luxury of that idealism. However, that is not my life.

I still think that pregnancy is amazing and miraculous. I still lay in bed and marvel at the alien kicks in my belly. I hear people blame lack of bonding on the fact that it took a half hour an hour to hold their babies after birth. But I'm quite well aware that I can bond with my baby even if he's in a plastic box for months, and I don't get to hold him until he's 5 days old, and then only for 30 minutes. What Robbie's birth taught me is that God laughs at plans.

I'm hoping for the best, but also knowing that whatever may come, we will roll with the punches. As amazing as pregnancy is, it's also terrifying and often dangerous. I'm confident in our choices and happy to explain them to most anyone with questions. The real rub comes when people don't ask questions, but just assume the worst- about me or my doctor(s) or the hospital or whoever they think doesn't agree with their picture of how things "should" be.

So right now, the plan is to deliver as close to 37 weeks as possible. I'm hoping to schedule my section for the day before Thanksgiving. That would be 36+6. I pray that my body and Chello both hold out that long. But if they don't, we'll handle that if it comes. For now, I'm still just looking at every Thursday as a new milestone. Come on 32!

--Trish

31

2011-10-13T03:09:00.001-05:00

This week wasn't uneventful, but the event wasn't what I would have anticipated. I did make a visit to the hospital this week, but it wasn't for preeclampsia and I didn't have a baby. So we'll call it a win.

If my life were a novel, the foreshadowing would have come last Tuesday when I took Robbie to school and read the notice on the door. There had been several cases of a stomach virus confirmed in the school. They're great about notifying us about those things, though sometimes I almost hate it. It's not like we can avoid it anyway. In any case, I read it with dread and I think may have even audibly said "Lovely." before going about my business.

Sure enough, Friday night, Robbie began having symptoms. I'll spare you the gory details, but trust me that things were ugly at our house for a couple of days. He seemed to weather it pretty well on Saturday, other than a light (but not non-existent) appetite, and a definitely out-of-character 4 hour nap, he seemed mostly okay. Sunday brought the fever and he writhed around for a while telling me "tummy hewts. tummy hewts" which pretty much broke my heart. Fortunately some Mylanta and another 4 hour nap seemed to help and by Sunday night, other then lack of energy he seemed himself again.

The whole weekend I kept thinking how much I REALLY didn't want to get this, but all he wanted was me, even yelling at David, "NO! Need to snuggle mommy!" and crying when David tried to give me a break. And then Sunday night, my stomach started to hurt.

I hoped it was just reflux, but just before we went to bed, I told David I really didn't feel right. I hoped I was wrong, but I was pretty sure I was infected. Again, I'll spare you the details, but by 4:30 that morning, it was clear that I was definitely not okay. Truthfully, I don't think I've been that sick since I was a kid. The only good thing I can say about it is that it was the kind of sick that I knew wasn't preeclampsia, so I wasn't worried about that.

By the morning, I thought I might be improving. I was supposed to go to the peri lab for my NST & U/S, then by my OB's office for my weekly labs. I debated if I could make it or not, but around 9, decided that I thought I could. David had taken the day off to stay with Robbie rather than dragging him around the hospital with me all day. Robbie actually woke up perky and begging for food, but as he'd had a fever the day before, he still couldn't go to school. I told David I was going to try to shower and make my appt.
As soon as I stood up, I knew it wasn't going to happen. Fortunately I'd kept a bucket nearby in case Robbie needed it, and.. well.. again, the details.. spared.

After I cleaned myself up a bit, I called the peri office and told them I wouldn't be in. Then called my OB's office and explained what was going on. By this point I was pretty sure part of my inability to stand was dehydration, and I couldn't stop shaking. The nurse called me back in less than 5 minutes. She immediately went through the pre-e checklist. I assured her that I was 99% sure it wasn't that, and explained about the daycare plague. She said she'd check with my doc and call back. She hadn't even pulled my chart yet. I am both comforted and troubled by the fact that she heard my name and "vomit" in the same sentence and didn't even have to look at my chart to worry.

She called back a few minutes later and told me to go to L&D. I was probably going to need fluids. It was almost a relief. It took some shuffling (my dad left work to come be with Robbie so David could drive me to the hospital. God bless my dad.) and I packed an overnight bag and got a shower (though I had to take some breaks in the middle so I didn't pass out) just in case.

In the end, I really only spent a little more than 2 hours at the hospital. The intake nurse commented on the fact that I got sick even though I was home on bedrest. All I said was "My son. He's 3. Daycare." and she nodded knowingly.

The nurse who took care of me was great. There was no doubt I was dehydrated, so they started me on saline right away, then added Zofran which is a miracle drug, I've decided. They put me on the monitors, which pissed Chello right off. She had to be chased down once and did a lot of speaker kicking to vent her frustration. But she passed with flying colors. I told my nurse I'd cancelled my labs earlier, so she ran them for me anyway. My BP was goodish (135/75, I think) but they wanted to rule out pre-e issues anyway. She didn't give me the lab results, but apparently I passed everything I needed to. They hung a 2nd bag of fluids, let me have some ice chips and once I successfully kept that down, and finally peed a little, I was allowed to go home with a script for for Zofran and an order for fluids & crackers only for the day.

After 2 hours on a gurney made for a Little Person, I was very glad to get home to my pillow top mattress. Robbie'd been having a grand time with grandpa. Me catching his plague was quite the boon for him.

I did have to take another dose of meds in the evening, but otherwise by that point felt quite a bit better. Tuesday morning David took Robbie to school so I could go back to bed. I had a raging headache, but otherwise felt okay. After some Tylenol and sleeping more than I've slept since before Robbie was born, I woke again starving and like a new person. I had officially survived.

The last few days have brought some waves of nausea, but I couldn't honestly tell you if those are remnants of the plague or because Chello has decided to take up residence in my upper abdomen these days. Either way, it's been manageable, though if anyone knows where I can pick up a good deal on a balloon for the next 6ish weeks, I'd appreciate it.

My rescheduled peri appt is now Friday morning, so we'll see how Chello looks then, but she's been very active and really did show off a little at the hospital on Monday, so I'm hopeful that things will be good. Next stop- 32.

Trish

30

2011-10-06T00:07:00.000-05:00

THIRTY.
THIRTY.
THIRTY.

When my 12 week baseline labs came back and my protein levels were already over 200, the covering OB said "well, we've got to get you into the 30s" but she said it in such a way that you can read "but I don't know if that's going to happen..." in her tone.

When my 24 week labs showed my liver enzymes and protein up, I thought it was the beginning of the end.

When things got even worse at 26 weeks and I got the "come for steroid shots NOW" call, I thought I'd be lucky to see 27.

Last week when my AST had risen, I thought "any time now."

This week I had what I'm now going to call a mild case of food poisoning hit me and I thought my stomach was going to burst, I wondered if we'd make it another 12 hours. I repacked my hospital bag, washed all our preemie clothes, and got as much home stuff situated as possible.

But here we are anyway. Labs this week were stable or improved. Protein down to 310, AST back down to 30 (that's NORMAL!), ALT only slightly higher at 79, but that's still not as high as it's been in the past. I'm pretty sure the nurse at my OB's office thinks I'm insane to be so excited over not-great numbers, but right now, not-worse is the same thing as great.

Thirty weeks is still too early, and this baby does not remotely have permission to come any time soon, but damn.. thirty feels good.

Trish

29

2011-09-30T02:57:00.004-05:00

Robbie was intubated for the first 5 weeks of his life. That's a long time to sit and watch your baby not breathing on his own, for the record. And the thing about being intubated is that's all you can do - watch. You can't pick them up or jostle them around much because you can't risk pulling that tube out. And believe me, once you've seen it come out by itself (which Robbie did something like 5 or 6 times during those 5 weeks, which no, isn't normal) you really don't want to have it happen again. Seeing nurses run is never encouraging. Seeing their hands shaking is even worse. Watching your child limp and blue, and someone manually bagging oxygen back into their bodies, well, it defies anything I have words for. My point is, when they're intubated, you don't even want to do anything except watch their chests rise and fall.

Which leaves a lot of time for looking around, too.

I'm a fairly (okay, extremely) social person so spending 8, 10, 12 hours or so in the NICU doing basically nothing, I eventually got to chatting with almost everyone around me at some point or another. I got to know their stories; What gestation their child was born out, what caused it and so on. There were three or four of us with micropreemies who all spent a lot of time together. Our babies were the most critical, so we were all clustered together in a room that was doubled as the admit area. We saw everyone come in, from other micros who would eventually join our long-timers club, to full termers who had some trouble at birth or right after, and of course, everything in between.

I have a very clear memory one day of sitting, talking with the mom of a 25 weeker who had been born just 4 days before Robbie about another baby who had been moved to the step-down unit that day. I had been surprised to come in and find that baby moved. I must have asked if she knew where he'd gone or something, and she told me he'd gone down to the other unit. I was surprised because he'd been a 29 weeker who wasn't much more than 2 pounds. Robbie must have been 3 or 4 weeks old at that point. He and my new friend's daughter weighed about the same as this baby who had been moved already, but here we were, still listening to the sound of the ventilator alarms on our two babies. (The sound of which will haunt me for the rest of my days, I swear.)

What I remember was when she answered, she said it with this sort of defeated sigh. "He went down to the pods." (The pods being the brand new step-down unit that had opened two days after Robbie was born. It was NICU Mecca in our minds.) My eyebrows shot up "Really? Already?" She looked chagrined, "Yep." We both glanced at our intubated babies, up at their monitors for their vitals and then back at each other. I think her daughter was actually on an oscillator at that point. That's a specialized ventilator not-so-lovingly referred to as "the jet" because that's approximately how loud the thing is. All I could say was "Wow." We were quiet then, both of us silently reflecting on what a difference 3 or 4 weeks could have meant to our babies.

I'm not ashamed to say I was jealous in that moment. I was jealous of that baby's mother being rid of the vent, being rid of that room we'd lived in for so long. I was jealous that she could now do something besides just watching. I was jealous that she got to keep her baby inside her body long enough to make such a profound difference in our experiences.

Of course, now I have enough distance and perspective to realize that 29 weeks is still really early. That is a mom who still worried if her child would survive birth or the NICU. That was a mom who also saw her baby stop breathing and turn blue; a mom who had to leave her child in the care of sometimes literal strangers each and every day. While our experiences were somewhat different, they were also very much the same. But in that moment, I had more appreciation for the difference three weeks can make than at any other time in my life. I so wanted to be that 29 weeker mom.

At my OB appointment on Monday, my doctor walked in and beamed. "Twenty eight weeks!!" I couldn't help but be excited with her. I told about the 29 weeker I remembered and she nodded. We agreed it's still too early, but it sure was exciting to be this far. She felt like we were going to see at least 30 and was very happy about it.

Because my labs last week had been pretty stable, I got to take the week off from the pee jug and just had some blood work drawn that day. I left feeling pretty confident about the course of things. Of course, my body is never happy with happy, so the nurse called on Tuesday to kill my buzz.

ALT was back up a bit, to 63. That's still better than it had been, but this week my AST creeped over normal as well. It should be under 30, and it was 33. That's not horrible, but because that one had been normal and now wasn't, it added a layer of concern that I could have lived without. A few other things were just slightly askew as well. My potassium was just a little low, glucose just a little high though I passed my 2nd glucose tolerance test the week before.) The nurse indicated that my OB still considered these numbers stable, and to continue with our plan.

I hung up the phone and started cussing. I wasn't sad, or worried, or anxious. I was angry- absolutely pissed, in fact. What the fuck is wrong with my body? Seriously, a few years of infertility, 2 miscarriages, and then I get preeclampsia at 26 weeks? WHO THE HELL GETS PREECLAMPSIA AT 26 WEEKS? The odds are pretty much astronomical against it. But who? Yeah, this girl.
And then I get pregnant again and at 26 weeks, it becomes clear we're headed there again? Seriously? SERIOUSLY? I was mad.

I spent a full 24 hours just being pissed off. Everyone around me tried to be encouraging, but I didn't even want to hear it. I didn't want to hear about my blessings or my luck or any glass-half-full stuff. I just wanted to be pissed off. And I was.

Of course, after I had my temper tantrum, I was able to think more clearly. I remembered again that 29 weeker from the NICU. And I focused on how far we have come. When you get a call at 26 weeks to come for steroid shots immediately, you don't expect to see 29 weeks with a baby in your belly. But I was here anyway.

So here I sit, now at 29 weeks and 1 day. Chello is kicking at me, and I'm feeling hopeful. We're still living one day at a time, but those days have already added up to 3 more weeks than we got before. While I hope they get to add up to 3 more weeks, and then 3 more weeks again, I know that what we have matters a lot. And I am grateful.

Trish

28w4d

2011-09-26T02:20:00.001-05:00

Well, blogger just ate an entire post. That's frustrating, and it's really late, so I'm not going to try to retype the whole damned thing. It didn't even save part of the draft.

So here's the bullet points of importance:

28w4d. More pregnant than i've ever been. YAY!
last week's labs were stable or improved.

didnt get a protein level, but it was "stable"
liver enzyme (ALT) down to 54. Not normal, but much improved

Chello measured at 54% on monday.

peri happy with Chello
not happy with labs, confirmed modified bedrest

feeling much better, no swelling to speak of
BP up to about 130/80, but that's "normal" for me prepregnancy, so trying not to freak out
Robbie had his sedated hearing test on Tuesday

he can hear! 100% of all ranges and tones in both ears!
also woke up from anesthesia well, yay again!

I'm well-read and watching too much TV.
Overall, happy place to be!
Blogger pisses me off

--Trish

27 weeks 4 days

2011-09-19T02:01:00.001-05:00

Still going...
As my last post indicated, Monday's labs showed an improvement in kidney function but a decline in liver. Specifically my ALT was up to 71. My OB isn't in on Wednesdays (when the labs came back) so the covering OB looked them over and sent me immediately back to the lab for repeat blood work. I then saw my OB on Thursday for my regularly scheduled appointment.

She was as wonderful as always, of course. She came in and immediately asked how I was doing, clearly meaning emotionally. I told her that I was holding it together okay, but that the day I had to come for steroid shots really sent me over the edge for a while. She was very sympathetic and hugged me. We kibitzed a while about some really annoying drama with the peri lab (at one point they told me they never got my lab results, but that they didn't care. They then apparently called my OB to yell at her because she had them and they didn't. Even though THEY ordered them and had her CCed on the results.)

Then she asked how my blood pressures had been at home. I was honest and told her that at home, they'd been quite good, a little higher (but not really high) at work. She shook her head and asked how I'd feel about being put off work. I told her it was fine. I certainly can tell a difference in the way I feel at work versus home, I can see it in the numbers, and frankly, when I'm averaging three trips a week to various labs or doctors, getting the time off work was getting challenging. We have short term disability insurance and we went into this knowing we would probably need to use it. I had hoped not to need it until much later, but we were prepared to do it when we needed. She felt it was time. We agreed that I would finish the week part time- I worked 4 hours Thursday and Friday and then be done.

She still thinks we can make it into the 30s for the baby. I told her that I had pretty much given up the idea of 37 (she ruefully agreed) but that I was still holding out for November. November 3 would be 34 weeks. Some 34 weekers go home, and even if they don't, USUALLY it's not a long NICU stay (believe me, I know 34 weekers have complications. Don't send me hate mail, please.) and she agreed. She thinks that's possible. Obviously I'd love to prove everyone (myself included) wrong and go longer, but that seems like a reasonable, hopefully attainable goal.

I spent my last couple of days at work tying up loose ends, getting my projects covered, letting everyone know I would be gone for a while, and doing paperwork. I took it as easy as I could while there and at home. My boss was obviously a little stressed at losing me, but really supportive about going. She is the mom of a former 32 weeker herself, having spent 4 months on hospital bedrest because of an incompetent cervix (she had previously lost a baby at 16 weeks to the same condition) so she is uniquely sensitive to my situation. There was mostly good-natured ribbing from my coworkers about being abandoned (though one particularly lovely soul demanded to know if I was "going to get fixed now" and when I told him that David was going to get a vasectomy, he asked "why, he's not the one whose body is all messed up?" Thanks.) and then I was off.

This weekend has been a little hectic. I had specific permission from the doctor to attend a couple of events I had already planned for, so long as I kept my feet up. Unfortunately my evening plans had to be cut short because my blood pressure was lingering at just barely under 140/90 and I had to get home and try to get get it down. Fortunately once I was really prone and quiet, it did, but it's been around 130/80 pretty much since then.

My OB had warned me that sometime between 25 & 28 weeks, BP tends to resettle closer to a normal pre-pregnancy pressure, which for me was 130/80. (That was my post-Robbie "normal." It never fully recovered after he was born.) I know that's an okayish number, but I have to say, it was a lot more comforting when it was settling at 115/65. I'd gladly take a little light-headedness over increasing numbers.

Tomorrow I have more labs. Dr. G said if my protein was stable these week, she'd give me next week off from the pee-jug (would be just blood work) so I'm really hoping for steady numbers. This week's labs also include my second glucose tolerance test (one of those benefits of being AMA is getting to do it twice.) I also see the peri tomorrow. I have a growth scan and consult with my favorite peri in the practice. She thinks he'll up my growth scans to make sure the baby is responding well to everything going on, so this might get to be an even more regular activity. That is fine, though I hate that no appointment in the peri lab can ever be accomplished in less than 2 hours.

I'm staring down my next milestone, which is 28 weeks. The odds for survival and outcomes increase nicely at 28 weeks, though that's still seriously, seriously early for a baby to be born. Chello is still not allowed to come, but I am still counting every day as a blessing and each week as a celebration. Getting to see a third trimester will be exceptionally fun.

In the meantime, I'm trying to take it as easy as possible. I'm not confined to bed, just was told not to do anything strenuous, to be up no more than an hour at a time, and take it as easy as possible. That leaves a lot of burden on David, who is already feeling the burden of responsibility, which has lead to some tension. We could use some prayers of patience for both of us, I think.

My friends have been amazing. They're already starting to fill up my freezer will meals and provided some reading entertainment to keep me occupied. I might have gotten a little weepy today after a friend whose literary opinions I value brought me a bag of books. Bedrest can be soul-sucking, but the outpouring of love and support has kept it nourished anyway. I'm the luckiest unlucky gal around.

--Trish

An Open Letter To My Body

2011-09-14T15:10:00.001-05:00

Dear Internal Organs,

Listen, I'm sorry. No, that's not sarcasm, I am. I know I'm hard on you. I'm fat and that's just a hard life anyway, and then these last few years I keep overwhelming you with hormones and drugs and surgeries and it's hard. And four pregnancies, that's rough, too. I know. I'm sorry. I am.

But here's the thing - this is it. I swear to you, after this we're done. David has already agreed to a vasectomy, so I'm not even going to ask you for another assault to end my (admittedly limited..) fertility. We just need one more baby and then you never, ever have to deal with this shit again. I promise.

I know that with a baby comes extra blood to filter and the baby keeps kicking at you and stuff. It's hard to be nice. But she's just a baby and doesn't know any better, it's not her fault. I'm just asking you to be patient and chill out for the next couple of months and then you can have the next few decades for peace.

I've been trying to make up for all the extra work you're doing by eating really healthy. You might notice the drastic reduction in sodium lately, the leaner diet in general. Notice that even though we're currently 6+ months pregnant, we're actually down a few pounds. See, I'm trying, right? I'm just asking you to do the same.

Kidneys, I know this has been exceptionally rough on you. Robbie almost took you guys out but you rallied and healed up nicely afterward. I appreciate that. And your improved performance this week has not gone unnoticed. Your levels improved from 384 to 304. I really appreciate that. I'd love to see you really go for the gusto next week and maybe drop back into the 200s. You and I both know that's still not great, but I'm willing to negotiate considering all you've been through.

Now Liver, you and I need to have a chat. There is no excuse for your pitiful performance this week. You were holding pretty steady last week and that was great, but up to 71 this week? No, no, no. What do you have to say for yourself? You need to take a deep breath and do better. The lab took more blood today. You BETTER show improvement tomorrow. I haven't been taking any Tylenol and we certainly haven't been drinking anything, so there's really no reason for you to be so crabby. Remember last year when that surgeon came digging around in you looking for Gallbladder? Yeah, that was done for your benefit, asshole, so show some appreciation.

Blood Pressure, well, I know you're not an organ, but as an important factor in everyone else's health, I want to thank you for your cooperation. Please keep up (err.. down..) the good work.

Thanks,

Trish

Tick Tock

2011-09-14T01:38:00.002-05:00

I'm now 26w6d pregnant. It's a relief to be staring down 27. My next goal is 28 as odds for the baby improve a fair bit at that point. But I also feel a bit like a ticking time bomb. I have no idea how long my fuse is.

I have set about a sort of forced nesting. In an effort not to focus on the things I can't control - mainly the dangers of extreme prematurity- I am trying to focus on the things I can, at least to some extent.

I've done paperwork for our insurance, double checked my company's leave policy, arranged our finances, gone through baby clothes. This weekend I will order the co sleeper and the dresser for Chello. There are things that still overwhelm me. Child care for Robbie is top on the list. He will go to school every day, but thinking about the possibility of being in the hospital on bed rest for a long time terrifies me. I know that I wouldn't be able to see him every day. The hospital is just too far from home and Robbie needs a routine that wouldn't allow him to visit frequently. Just thinking about missing him makes me cry. And even after the baby comes, I know that with school comes germs and that can get very tricky with the NICU. It's one of those situations that we'll have to figure out when we know what we're dealing with. But that doesn't keep me from obsessing over it anyway.

Everyone has been incredibly supportive and kind and prayerful. I really do feel incredibly blessed. I am blessed with every day of this baby still in my womb, and by the love of those around me. Even my coworkers brought me to tears yesterday. When I walked into work as scheduled, everyone was shocked. I just smiled and said "I'm here. Still pregnant." and the room burst into cheers. They'd all seen me leave in tears on Thursday (when I left to get my steroid shots) and feared the worst. It was good to have a little celebration.

My facebook page is full of well-wishes and inquiries. Everyone wants to know what they can do. I wish I knew. I just keep asking for more prayers because truly, it's the only thing we need and really the only thing that will do any good.

I am feeling pretty good, overall. (You know, beyond the back-ache, insomnia and constant peeing.) I am noticing some changes that make me nervous. My feet are swelling most every day now. My blood pressure has crept up just slightly the last 2 days. I'm even more tired than I was before. None of these symptoms are outside the realm of normal for a woman who is 6 months pregnant, though, so I never know how alarmed I should be. I had more labs drawn on Monday, the results should be in tomorrow. I have another OB appointment on Thursday. We'll see what they show.

I am curious to hear with my OB has to say. She always has a way of calming me down but not snowing me either. I want to know what she really thinks.

For me, I'm still trying to focus on a baby in November. I have stopped even entertaining the idea of 100% full term, but I'm still hoping to surprise what is probably everyone and make it at least that far. November 3 would be 34 weeks and while that's still too damned soon, right now it feels like a year away. But even before I got pregnant, I felt like November would bring a baby. I thought it would be a baby for a friend who was adopting, but she got her baby in May (YAY!) so that leaves me. A November baby for me. Please.

--Trish

More pregnant than I've ever been

2011-09-10T11:23:00.000-05:00

Robbie was born at 11:22am at 26 weeks 2 days.

I'm officially more pregnant than I've ever been. May there be may more milestones to celebrate.

Trish

On the other hand...

2011-09-08T22:38:00.000-05:00

Well, I guess I shouldn't have posted that last post so early in the day.

Just a couple of hours later, my OB's office called with lab results. Most were "stable" but my protein had increased to 384. That's not freak-out-kidney-failure level, but that's not good, particularly in that it's gone up over 100 points in a week. They wanted me to come in immediately for steroid shots for the baby's lungs.

To say I didn't take the news well would be an understatement. I tried to get myself together so I could tell my bosses what was going on and leave, but of course, the minute I tried to speak, I started crying. One of the bosses offered to drive me to the hospital, which was nice.

I opted to go myself. There was some chaos in trying to figure out where to get the shots from, ultimately coming from the hospital pharmacy. But here's a little tidbit for you- the hospital has at least 3 pharmacies. I know because that's how many I visited before I found the right one. Then I get there and apparently my insurance (which really is normally quite good) didn't cover them. Fortunately they were less than 50 dollars, but seriously... if they admitted me to do the shots, I bet they'd be covered then. I was frustrated.

I then headed back to my OB's office to have the first shot administered. I go back tomorrow at the same time to get the 2nd.

I don't exactly know what the plan is from here. When the nurse called she said weekly labs & monitoring from here on out and get the shots. Honestly, I was so overwhelmed I didn't think to ask if I needed to schedule another appointment or anything. Since I have to go back tomorrow, I will get it all worked out then.

I then headed home. I picked up Robbie and David met us at home. I spent a lot of time just hugging and holding Robbie tonight. I've checked my blood pressure and it's still fine. It was 122/72 tonight. We just hope that continues.

I did a lot of feeling sorry for myself, some praying, some more crying. I talked to Chello and told her I am sorry I was letting her down. I did a lot of thinking about the things that Robbie went through in the NICU and about how happy and wonderful he is in spite of all of it.

David keeps saying we've survived it once, we can do it again. I know all too well that even as unlucky as we were, we could be even unluckier this time. There are no guarantees.

But I also know that I could linger like this for weeks, too. As long as my protein doesn't shoot up and my BP stays under control and nothing else goes haywire, I could go quite a while longer. I did some bargaining with God (okay, more like begging...) for at least 4 more weeks. Thirty weeks is way too early, but when you're looking at it from 26, it seems pretty hopeful. More would be even better.

The truth is that it is what it always has been- in God's hands. I know, as I did with Robbie, that God walks with me through this journey no matter what it may bring. I hope and I pray that it brings good things, but I know that isn't promised, either. For now, I surrender it to God and know that He carries me. And I know that he has sent a lot of love and support from all walks of the world, and I'm feeling that love tonight.

Please say some extra prayers for Chello and me tonight. And David and Robbie, too. We could all use them.

--Trish

Differences

2011-09-08T11:52:00.001-05:00

26 weeks, pregnant with Robbie:

Woke up.
Rolled over.
Groaned in intense pain.
Made the decision to call the doctor. Haven't eaten in days, this can't continue.
Called the doctor. Can you be here in an hour? Um.. sure.
Decided to skip a shower, will take one when I get home. Call in to work, definitely not going to make it in.
Arrive at the doctor's office, pee in a cup, get my BP taken. Nurse tries (but fails to) not to look alarmed.
Doctor comes in.
Preeclampsia. Go to the hospital. Now.
Tears.
I cry. I beg. I plead. I refuse to believe.
I called my husband and (fail to) try to remain calm.
Tears
Friend comes to get me and drives me to the hospital.
Husband meets me there, I collapse into his arms. Neither of us can believe this is happening.
No tears, just shock.
Doctors, nurses, questions, IVs, words I don't understand. My friends and my husband stand looking on helplessly.
I'm still sure there is some mistake.
More needles, steroids for the baby.
Statistics, odds, more tears.
Lots and lots of praying.

26 weeks pregnant, baby Chello:
Wake up early.
Roll over, wait for pain. None comes.
Wait for the baby to move. Feel a kick. Smile.
Husband's alarm goes off, lay in bed with him and cuddle.
We don't speak, but we know what day it is.
Eventually fall back to sleep, wake up to the sound of the world's cutest three year old calling "mommy? Daddy?"
Smile
Retrieve three year old from his room, bring him to ours.
Three year old requests snuggles. Happy to oblige.
He tucks himself under my chin and pulls face downward to kiss him.
Pull the sheet up and he snuggles under them.
Starts to call the cat. "baby girl! come 'ere! where is she? She's hiding in the closet?"
I help call the cat until she comes.
Smile through my tears as he hugs the kitty.
Indulge a request for cartoons.
Get up, take my blood pressure. 120/70. Smile again.
Take son to school, discuss his progress with his teacher. "doing really well..."
Home to eat lunch and go to work. Never been so happy to have a regular day.
Smile.

Hangin' on.

2011-09-07T01:04:00.000-05:00

It is now after midnight, so I've made it through the day I got sick with Robbie. It was 25w5d when I suddenly had the most horrid "heartburn" of my life. I'd had an ulcer in my late teen years and I kept thinking "man, this is worse than THAT..."

I'd been doing pretty well anxiety wise, but then I got a little heartburn this afternoon. It's definitely up in my chest, even into my throat- quite clearly it's reflux. But no amount of Tums seemed to help and the anxiety crept up on me. Which just suffices to make the heartburn worse, of course.

I did redo my labs this morning. They took my BP at the peri lab- 125/70 and weighed me (down 4 pounds from the last time they weighed me, which was actually 12w) which made them happy. Then wrote the order for my lab draws. I then walked over to my OB's office and the tech there took them and my jug o' pee. (Walking around the hospital with a jug of urine was fun. My OB's office isn't actually in the hospital, just attaches by a walkway, so when I say 'walked over' it was quite a hike there and back. I got lots of funny looks.) So anything hinky that is going on in there will hopefully reveal itself with those tests- which I HOPE will be back tomorrow (but Thursday at the latest.)

I've been giving myself a pep-talk. God will provide. What is to be is to be, worrying changes nothing. We will get through this. I've taken my blood pressure approximately 437 times today (all fine) in an effort to reassure myself. I've talked to the baby a lot and told her how much I love her and to be safe. I even got the Doppler out tonight and just listened to her heartbeat and movements for a while. But I still can't shake the heeby-jeebies. I'm hoping that good lab results will help and getting through Saturday and still being both pregnant and not hospitalized will help.

Logically, we're so close that there is every reason to believe that will happen, but this week is just a nail-biter. This was also Robbie's first day in preschool, and Sunday was actually the 3rd anniversary of his home-coming from the hospital. It's just a big week. I'll be glad to see the end of it.

Trish

the week of terror

2011-09-02T02:16:00.000-05:00

Well, my OB was able to calm me down a good bit today.

After weighing (down a couple pounds again, I think this puts me -6 for the pregnancy. I swear I'm not trying!) and peeing, she came in and asked how I was. I said "okay, I guess. Anxious." She seemed a little surprised. I just said "the labs."

She sat down and went through them and essentially said they're not that bad. She doesn't think protein of 279 is that bad, and particularly because I was at 220 at 12 weeks, she thinks that's a normal amount of increase at this stage of my pregnancy. They didn't test my ALT at 12 weeks, but prepregnancy, it was 36. The difference between 36 then and 47 now also isn't that big, and she added that my prepregnancy labs were run at the hospital lab versus Quest. The range that the hospital considers normal is actually up to 52, which I would still fall into. So not that bad.

She added that my AST (another liver enzyme) was completely normal and my uric acid was actually down, showing improved kidney function. If things were bad, she would expect both of those things to be up as well. And my BP was 116/70, which she said was about as good as it gets.

I asked her about the people who present with HELLP but normal BP and she said no, she wouldn't expect that from me. I asked if I was likely to present the same way as last time, she said she can't say I'd have epigastric pain, but she'd be shocked if I didn't have high BP. That was actually a relief, because I can (and do) check my BP multiple times a day, just as reassurance that I'm doing alright.

She did feel like I should be watched even closer, wanting me monitored each week. I told her that the peri center had revised their stance to every 4 weeks instead of 2 and she shook her head. She said that when I see the peri at my next appt on the 19th, he would absolutely say I should be seen every 2 weeks and if he didn't, to call her because she wants me seen every week and she'll just bring me in to her office every week if she has to.

I told her that they wanted a complete set of labs on Tuesday. She said that was great. We talked about timing with labs & results and which lab to use for consistency and ultimately decided that I would take a pee jug with me for the weekend, go to the peri lab on Tuesday for the orders, then take everything back to her office immediately after (the buildings connect) and have everything drawn. Works for me.

David had actually juggled some things at work to be able to come to the appointment with me, so he got to hear the whole thing first hand as well. We talked about his agreement to have a vasectomy, which pleased Dr. G. And at one point we talked about the people who have 4, 5, 6 babies with a history of preeclampsia. I said that I didn't know if they had more faith than me or were just crazier, but I was definitely not one of them. Dr. G said crazier and nodded. As much as she encouraged us to try again, she's also relieved this is it for us.

I walked out of the office feeling immensely better. There is no way that I'm going to relax until this baby is healthy and in my arms, but at least for the time being, I'm not quite as stressed. That is a relief because today starts what I not-so-fondly think of as the week of terror.

Looking back at Robbie's pregnancy, my first sign of trouble really appeared at 25 weeks 1 day. It was a Friday (just like today) and I was in the middle of a mess at work. There had been a huge error that had deleted dozens of orders and no one seemed to know how to fix it. My department had neither caused the problem nor could solve it, but somehow were spear-heading the push to get it fixed. I'd spent several hours on a conference call trying to get it sorted out and after it was over, I was exhausted. I'd gone to my boss's office to have a post-mortem of sorts about the futility of the whole thing. I was sitting there looking at my sandaled feet and thought they looked kinda puffy.

I asked her if she thought they looked weird. She looked worried and said yes. I just laughed. I hadn't had any swelling at all, and I thought it was an amusing pregnancy symptom. She suggested that I should called the doctor. "Nah.. I'm fine. Just 6 months pregnant. It's to be expected." She looked doubtful. I went back to my desk a while later thinking what a worry-wart she was.

That weekend I kept my feet and my hydration up and my sodium down. They improved and I felt like I'd been right. It wouldn't be until Tuesday that the epigastric pain hit. And still, I just thought it was yet another pregnancy symptom that had caught up with me. On Wednesday, I was especially miserable and considered calling in sick. But the error with the missing accounts was still being muddled through. There were only 2 of us working on the problem and my partner was already out sick. I couldn't leave my boss in the lurch. Just finish throwing up and get ready and go. Man up, Trish.

On Thursday I finally went to the doctor. I hadn't been able to keep anything (even water) down for a few days and I knew it couldn't continue. I was going to need some meds, for sure, so off to the doctor I went. I was admitted just an hour after that. Robbie was born 2 days later.

As I sit here at 25 weeks 1 day, it's hard not to see those images in my mind again. Much of what happened between being admitted and Robbie's delivery is blurred because of time, the drugs I was on, the overwhelming nature of what was happening and just plain exhaustion. But the days leading up to the day I was admitted, they're etched into my mind.

As much as I try not to focus on what can't be changed, it's hard not to wonder if things would have been any different if I'd listened to my boss that day. Or if I'd gone the day my stomach started hurting, or even that second day. Nothing can stop preeclampsia, but maybe it would have bought Robbie another day or two in the womb. Certainly it would offered him a little longer for the steroids to work. And maybe that wouldn't have changed anything, either. Maybe he'd still have been vented for 5 weeks. Maybe he'd still have asthma just like now. But maybe it wouldn't.

I know that there are only so many things I can control, but buying this baby as much time as I can is something I'm determined to do. I hope that my prayers and yours will give this baby 37 weeks baking time, but even if that is not in God's plan, I want to do everything I can to make sure that I don't rob this baby of a day or two that might help. I've lived with those questions and that guilt for more than 3 years. I don't want to add any more to it than I have to.

I realize that that makes me even more neurotic, but I suppose that's some of the burden of motherhood. We sacrifice not only our physical selves, but our emotional selves as well, in the journey to protect our kids as much as we can. That's the way it should be.

Trish

more prayers, please

2011-08-31T23:01:00.000-05:00

Well, apparently it wasn't just my liver.
The peri lab called today and the doctor was also concerned about the level of protein in my urine. It was 279.

At my 12 week baseline check, it was 220, but apparently they didn't have record of that in my chart, so the last he knew was that it was 140 pre-pregnancy, so that was a fairly large jump. Either way, 279 is definitely higher than it should be. (Normal being <150.)

They want me to come in on Tuesday and have my BP checked and repeat all the labs again.

That was enough information to put me into a tailspin. As nervous as I was about the liver enzyme yesterday, having 2 things more out of whack than they should be was more than I could take. I called David to tell him the news and pretty much lost it on the phone.

David was great. Honestly, he took it a lot better than I expected. He reassured me that we will handle anything that is thrown at us, he doesn't want to see the NICU again, but we will do whatever we have to. I told him I was sorry my body was letting us down again and he shushed me saying there's no way to know what causes this, it could well be his genes at play, too. He reminded me that we married for better or worse and sometimes life throws "worse" at us. It was really what I needed to hear.

I still spent a good deal of the day crying and then telling myself to knock it the eff off. Neither of these lab values are horrifying. It's the trend that matters. My BP was still good today (115/60 in the afternoon, 120/80 this evening. Both quite good particularly considering the emotional mess I was all day.) I have an OB appointment tomorrow and I'm sure we'll discuss it in details tomorrow.

I'm 9 days from the point that I delivered Robbie. In looking back, my first sign of trouble with him happened at 25w1d. My feet swelled suddenly. I hadn't had any swelling at all up until that point. It wasn't even very severe. I actually thought it was kind of cute. Oh look- a pregnancy symptom. It improved over the weekend as I kept my feet up and hydrated. It was at 25w4d that the epigastic pain started. I was admitted to the hospital at 26 weeks exactly and he came at 26w2d. I'm really hoping that history does not repeat itself.

Normally, when preeclampsia reoccurs, it happens letters and less severely. So even if this IS the beginning of bad stuff, the hope is that it develops at a snail's pace and we can go a LOT longer. I really had my heart set on 37 weeks. I kept feeling strongly that the baby would come in November. Even if it was November 1, that would be almost 34 weeks. Any parent of a 33 weeker would tell you that's still too damned early, but as I sit here an hour shy of 25 weeks, 33 weeks is sounding pretty hopeful.

What I'm pleading for us prayers. Let my labs show improvement next week. At the very least, no decline. Pray for healthy kidneys & a healthy liver, for continued good blood pressure and health for my baby Chello.

She's been very active today and I've loved it. I love her so incredibly much already. The thought of her suffering through the NICU the way that Robbie did (or worse) devastates me. As I told David today, I just need our baby to be okay.

--Trish

Liver

2011-08-31T01:20:00.000-05:00

Well, the labs are in. It took some doing to get them. The perinatal center was as helpful as usual (read: not at all) when I was a little confused that they weren't back yet. So I called my OB's office as I knew they'd been copied on the results. They were also as helpful as usual (read: extremely) and after one of the staff called and chewed some ass at Quest, they called me back with the results.

All were normal. Except one. My ALT (a liver enzyme) was slightly elevated. It should be between 6 and 40 and mine was 47. The nurse said that Dr. G was not concerned about that number, but would like to have it repeated in a week to make sure it wasn't getting worse. She confirmed when my next appointment is (Thursday) and said they'd give me the order then.

I immediately googled ALT (what DID people do before the Internet Age?) and found that that particularly enzyme is associated with a number of other conditions that I fall into. Obesity, fatty liver syndrome & Tylenol usage, specifically. So there are a lot of reasons that it could be a little high that don't mean HELLP. I tried to tell myself to chill out and wait for more answers. I took my blood pressure and even in the agitated state I was in, it was 120/75.

Less than 5 minutes after I hung up with the nurse, I had to join a conference call for a project I've been working on for a few weeks. I told myself that it was time to get back to work. But it wasn't long into the call before the tech I was working with commented that I seemed awfully quiet today. She sort of chuckled because both she and her work partner were really off their game yesterday and today it was the client and me. (The client had been up with his post-surgical puppy all night. We all had baby woes today!) Guess it's a rough week. But clearly I wasn't putting on my game face as well as I'd hoped. I tried to rally myself a little more.

Fortunately Chello was very active tonight, which never ceases to make me smile. Even now that she's getting big enough to punch me in the stomach occasionally and make me feel like puking, it's still pretty cool. I told myself that I was otherwise symptom-free. By the point that my liver enzymes were elevated with Robbie, I was already hospitalized and near kidney failure. Everything else was fine, so it wasn't that. Relax, Trish, relax. I willed myself to feel it even though I was so tense that the muscles in my shoulders were burning.

As much as I tried, I couldn't help but think about this baby in the NICU. Surely we can make it to 25 weeks, right? That's still too early, though. I remember Robbie in the NICU when he was born. I remember the guilt I felt every time they pricked his heels for blood or peeled off another lead from his see-through skin. I remember his silent cry when they disturbed him to change a tube or roll him over so that his head didn't get too misshapen. You couldn't hear either of us crying- Robbie because of the tube down his throat, my weeping kept silent so as not to upset the other parents. I said a silent apology to Chello for anything she would suffer because we selfishly decided to get pregnant again.

By the time I left work, I had worked myself into quite a state of self-pity. All I wanted to do was climb in bed and watch crappy TV. My side was hurting (probably psychosomatic) and I just wanted to lay down. I got home and found that the cat had puked all over the bed. I had a temper tantrum and yelled to David about how all I wanted to do was lay down and now I can't even do that, all while stripping the bed. David busied himself helping and talked to me in a soothing tone. My tantrum had little to do with the vomit (though seriously, 90% of our house is wood floor. WHY can't they puke on a freaking solid surface?) and more to do with a different kind of injustice.

Finally I did lay down and watch crappy TV (latest addiction: Awkward. on MTV.) and then took a long bath and read a little while and seem to have worked through the worst of the self-pity. The truth is that I don't know what this lab results means. My blood pressure is still excellent (tonight's reading: 110/65) I'm not swelling, my head doesn't hurt, and all my other labs were fine. Whatever is going on isn't coming to a head tonight. And whatever does happen is out of my hands. Wallowing isn't changing that.

I worked on picturing my next peri appointment at 28 weeks. Then seeing 30. I needed to write myself a different ending. Not at 25 weeks or even 26. I want to see full term. I don't want tubes and wires and statistics and guilt and tears. We all, particularly Chello, deserves better. So that's what I'm thinking about tonight. I'm going to pray for a health liver and a full term baby. And I'm going to believe it can happen, even if my liver doesn't like it.

Trish

24w3d

2011-08-29T01:38:00.001-05:00

Friday's peri appointment was good. Too bad there wasn't an actual peri there, eh? I don't know what the deal was, but after my ultrasound (more on that in a moment) I was dismissed. Pardon?

I asked if the peri wasn't going to come in and they said "There isn't one here today, did you have questions?" Again.. pardon?

I didn't have questions, but I had been told to expect labs at 24 weeks and I had been expecting to see Dr. B. The nurse said "yeah, we expected him, too." Pardon?

Seriously, I was confused. I get that things happen, but wouldn't it have made sense to mention that he wasn't in? I don't know. It was strange. And lead to us having to pour over my chart to see if Dr. Sunshine had noted which labs he wanted at 24 weeks, which he hadn't noted at all. So then I was going to have to wait until Monday when they could ask someone. Normally that wouldn't be a big deal, but since I knew one of them included a 24 hour urine, I really wanted to do it Sunday thru Monday so I didn't have to take my pee jug to work.

Fortunately God smiled on me and literally as I was checking out, Dr. B called to check-in (and I got to listen as she told him all about the patients she'd sent off to L&D, making me very sad) and she asked about the labs. "..patient here with a history of preeclampsia at 26 weeks, 24 weeks now.. said Dr. Sunshine told her labs, but there's no record of that... oh.. just order them.. oh.. okay.. alright.. all of them? okay..." :phew: She was really nice, but she really did act like maybe I was trying to get by with something. Maybe I'm running some pee-jug insurance scam. Who knows? All's well that ends well.

But back to the good stuff- the ultrasound was great. Baby Chello (have I explained the Chello thing? Our current baby names are Charlotte & Elliot, so I mashed them up and came up with Chello.) was really quiet that morning. Not a kick to be had all morning. It was a hectic morning (had a meeting with the daycare over the previous day's drama. All is better now.) so maybe I was just distracted, but seriously, I was starting to get stressed and the only thing keeping me calm was knowing that I was hours from a check.

As I was about 5 miles from the hospital, I started to feel a few kicks and as I was waiting to be seen, Chello started going crazy. I had to keep myself from giggling out loud in the waiting room because my belly was dancing. When the u/s tech came to get me I warned her we were about to get a show.

The tech was great. Sometimes they seem sort of irritated if the baby is really active, since it can be challenging to get a good still shot to make their measurement. This tech thought it was cute. I wish I could have her every time.

Chello looked great. Actually measured just a little ahead at 62%. Closer to 25 weeks than 24. She estimated the weight at 1 pound 13 ounces. I commented that was more than my son had weighed when he was born at 26 weeks. That lead to a moment that actually caught me off-guard. "Twenty six weeks? Wow. Did he live?" I answered that he had, he's 3, he's doing well. We then had the usual follow up conversation (How long was he in the hospital, any complications, yada yada yada.)

And then I laid there and thought about how truly screwed up that question is. Now, many friends thought it shouldn't have been asked, at least not in that way. And in hindsight, I do think it could have been asked more delicately. But I really wasn't offended. She works in a peri's office. She's seen a lot of things. She ended up telling me about her triplet grandchildren who were born at 28 weeks, so she probably has a perspective that few people do. But I thought "Wow. That's actually a legitimate question because it doesn't always turn out that way." A wave of sadness washed over me. It was a wave I hadn't felt in quite a long time.

While I will always feel sorrow about the way in which Robbie came into this world, it's not something that just eats at me on a daily basis the way that it used to. It's a little like telling people that my parents were divorced or my mom wasn't around. Yeah, that's sucky, but really, it just IS. It's part of our history, but not something to really dwell on. But all of a sudden, I felt myself dwelling a bit. It honestly stuck with me the rest of the day. Three years later and prematurity can still launch a sneak attack.

But back to the good stuff (again.) Chello was all over the place. Kicking and punching and wiggling around. She kept kicking her legs up by her face where it looked like she was trying to suck her toes or something. We laughed about envying that flexibility. I hoped that meant her abdominals are stronger than Robbie's were. (And I had her check the diaphragm again, too. Still looking good.)

Once they declared her healthy and took my BP (130/68. 130 wasn't the greatest, but the nurse was asking about the circumstances of Robbie's birth as she was taking the pressure, so I was a little agitated. It's been more like 115/65 most of the time.) and we play "Who's on first" about the peri, I was on my way.

The nice (if blunt) u/s tech burned my pictures on disc, so I can share them. I bring you.... Baby Chello!

Profile

Face

I'm pretty sure she's about to give us the finger here.

Arm and foot up by the face

The weekend has gone fine. After Friday's acrobatics, Chello was very quiet the rest of the weekend. I broke out the Doppler THREE times today (there is a direct correlation to my level of anxiety and the use of the Doppler) because it was starting to really worry me, but tonight she's finally been active again. Maybe it's another growth spurt, I don't know.

I'm mid-pee jug and will have my labs drawn tomorrow. I'm hoping that all those results are normal and I can take a few deep breaths and feel better at least for a few days. Twelve more days until milestone 2. I think I can.. I think I can...

Trish

Failure

2011-08-26T01:12:00.000-05:00

Well, he failed.
His hearing test, that is. Again.
Not really the news I was hoping to get today, but that's how things go, I suppose.

The question is what it means. There's some debate over whether he could actually hear and just not cooperate or if he genuinely couldn't hear. I, personally, think it was a little of both. He passed all the sections involving human speech, but when it came time the tones, he failed all in both ears.
The tones they were using were a bird & a train. I'm not sure that was the best way to go because both of those actually excited him and he kept saying "Mommy! The choo-choo is coming!" "Mommy, it's a birdie!" as we all stifled our chuckles. By the end of the very long hour, he was telling me that the orange choo-choo was coming on the train tracks. At least he has an imagination.

The thing is that I have noticed that he seems to have trouble hearing some things at home. If the TV is turned down kinda low (I can hear it fine, but it's quiet) he'll tell me it's broken and then cry if I don't fix it. But he seems to be able to hear us whispering just fine, and can hear sounds far in the distance just fine. I didn't even realize I could hear a train from our house until he pointed it out one day. I had just never noticed the faint whistle blowing.

The ENT wants to do a sedated hearing check sometime in the next month (waiting for a callback from the audiology lab to schedule that) to see what it shows. Right now, he showed a "mild hearing loss" in both ears. If that proves true through the sedated check, then it "defintiely needs to be addressed." We really just hope he passes.

Honestly, I came out of the appointments feeling pretty defeated. I told myself 100 times that there are far worse things than mild hearing loss. Hell, we've faced far worse things than mild hearing loss. But it just isn't something anyone wants their kid to go through. And honestly the thought of trying to convince a 3 year old to keep hearing aids on is daunting. I KNOW that lots of kids do it and we WILL get through whatever may come, but right now it just seems overwhelming.

The rest of the day didn't go a lot better. I got Robbie to school only to be scolded rather rudely by the daycare directly for getting him to school right at nap time. She wasn't aware he was going to be late (I had told his teachers.) and was apparently pretty pissed about it. Well, considering I was already in a bit of a mood, it didn't go so well. I managed not to slap anyone or cuss them out, but I definitely said my piece before the day was done. (I actually left and called back because I needed to contain my temper before I responded.)

In the end, it may work out well. In what I think was an attempt at peace-making, we got the notice tonight that he's being moved to the 3 year old room as of Monday. There was some debate about whether or not he could go because he's not potty trained yet, but I guess it's official. He's joining his peers. I hope he does better with them than he did in the previous room, but I'm a bit nervous about it as I always am. I want him to be liked and accepted and to enjoy it.

Work was just kinda crazy. I literally walked in the office into the middle of a bunch of bickering and that lasted most of the day. I was in no mood to chat for most of the day, so I just kept to myself, but I had to marvel that the whole day sort of took a wrong turn somewhere for not just me, but it seemed like everyone around me.

Hopefully tomorrow is a better one. I have a peri appointment in the morning. I believe I'll be getting a number of labs to check on my body's function and will have a growth scan for the baby to make sure she's growing appropriately. I'm doubting I'll have all the results (except the scan) until Monday or Tuesday since I'm fairly certain I'll have the dreaded pee jug (a 24 hour urine collection) to fill as well.

I'm hoping that if those come back normal, though, that that will ease some of my concerns, though. Though I also worry that they will come back bad and anxiety will rule again. Only time will tell.

Trish

Milestone #1

2011-08-25T01:16:00.000-05:00

24 weeks.

When we decided to try for another baby, my biggest fear was very clear in my mind. It was getting sick before the possibility of viability.

I don't remotely feel like 24 weeks brings any assurances of survival. This baby is NOT allowed to come yet. Not for a good long while. But when I thought of The Worst, the image in my mind was very clear.

I could see myself begging doctors for steroid shots, begging them to try to save him or her. I had all too clear an image of the sad but resigned look on their faces as they explained that there was simply no hope.

I know that if I got sick tomorrow, the baby could very well not survive even the process of being born, let alone the complications of prematurity thereafter. I'm by no means throwing a V-day party.
But I am happy to mark one milestone off the list. At this point, the medical professionals would at least try.

I have sixteen more days to go to reach the point at which Robbie was born. From moment to moment, I think "we've got that in the bag" or "sixteen days is a long freaking time..." I'm a little concerned how that milestone is going to feel. When I picture reaching it in my mind, I get very emotional. I was there, but it still seems unreal to me that Robbie came at such a close stage that I'm at now. This baby is very likely about the size that Robbie was when he was born (he was closer to the size of an average 24 weeker.)

I'm feeling so much movement these days, habits becoming more clear, my attachment growing stronger every day. And to think of this baby struggling the way that Robbie did is terrifying. Knowing how amazing Robbie is now and that he did survive all of that is somewhat comforting, but I do still sometimes stroke the scars on his stomach, his feet, his hands and inwardly weep for all that he endured. I don't want this baby to suffer the same way.

So I ask for continued prayers. For the next 16 days to speed by uneventfully.. along with another 13 weeks. And if you're in the praying mood, how about another one for Robbie. He's having another hearing check tomorrow. The last one, given before his 2nd set of ear tubes was placed, showed moderate hearing loss. We're hoping the tubes have cleared that up, but we will know for sure tomorrow. He could use a little boost.

-Trish

thankful

2011-08-20T02:01:00.000-05:00

I have definitely been feeling everyone's prayers since my last post. I've just felt calmer, more at peace and just bouyed by support that I know has come from all of you and from God.
That doesn't mean I'm not still worried, of course, and haven't had my "moments" but I haven't had the huge, all-out, gut-wrenching panic like I had been feeling. I've been able to talk myself through the moments of panic, rationalizing them and distracting myself instead of just spiraling downward.

The reflux is still kicking my ass. I've taken it extremely easy on my stomach this week, though in doing so I've managed to lose 4 pounds this week. Normally I'd be thrilled, but you know, for once, I don't want to lose weight, so I've been trying to eat more frequent snacks the last day or two to make up for it. Today was particularly bad again, though for the life of me, I don't know why. I had plain spaghetti (no sauce, no spices. Just a little butter and parmesan cheese) for lunch. I snacked on almonds in the afternoon (thanks for the tip, Mrs.Spit!), then had oatmeal (maple/brown sugar. not even any cinnamon) for dinner. But all day I had that feeling like I had a rock stuck in my chest. Nothing I couldn't handle, and the bright side of having it in my chest is that it's distinctly not my stomach, so I don't freak that it's secretly epigastric pain, but it's still unpleasant.

This is day 5 of Nexium. I definitely have far less burning than I had before, but I'm hoping with another few days of build up, it'll improve further. It's a small price to pay for the gift of this baby, but I can't say it's terribly pleasant either.

As for the gift I speak of, it's actually be a fun week. I'm leaning towards it being a girl (though keep in mind that I called Robbie "she" until 5 minutes before he was born, so what do I know?) so I've been calling her she a lot. She's been very active and somewhat regular intervals. I'm feeling more movement overall and in more places than before. Tonight I actually felt movement on the outside (with my hands) for the first time, and even saw my belly bounce a little once or twice. I just sat and touched and watched with a smile on my face for a while. Shortly thereafter, a coworker looked at me funny and said I seemed happy. I answered honestly that I was. Baby kicks are the best part.

My biggest fear for this pregnancy has been something awful happening before the baby even has a chance- before the medical community would even fight for her. That was been in my mind as The Worst. Now believe me, I know there are thousands of things that could go wrong outside of that, and that being born at 24 weeks is no guarantee at all. I know that better than most. But when my mind spirals into panic, the image the haunts me is one of me begging them to please just try. To please give me steroids, to please fight for a breath, to please fight for her life, and for a doctor with kind eyes but a decisive voice telling me it's just too early.

My first goal is 24 weeks. We need so much more than that, so, so much more. But I have to focus on baby steps or I will go crazy. At 24 weeks, they'll at least try. So as that goal has crept closer, it's scared and excited me. As I sit here tonight at 23w2d, I can feel 24 weeks so close. I vacillate between "only 5 more days.." and "5 more days is a long time.." The trouble with preeclampsia, particularly my kind, was how quick it came. If it hit now, we may not have 5 more days.

But right now, I'm leaning more towards "only 5 more days.." And then only 2 more weeks until the point Robbie came. We can make it. I hear my OB's words at my last appointment. "You're going to make it. You're going to make all the goals. It's going to happen." She didn't seem to be placating me, she seems to really believe it. Maybe she has some secret crystal ball I don't know about? I sure hope she's right.

For now, I'm just focusing on one day at a time. Today, I am pregnant and I love my baby. There are no promises of tomorrow for any of us, so I'm trying very hard to value each day as the gift it is. I know that your prayers are helping me fight off the Anxiety and letting me be open to the gifts. For that and so much more, I am truly thankful.

--Trish

Doom

2011-08-16T02:17:00.000-05:00

My preemie mom friends who have gone on to have more children warned me that their anxiety really peaked between 22 & 24 weeks. That "gray area" just brought out the paranoia in an even stronger fashion. I can definitely say I'm experiencing that as well.

Last night I ended up with what will go down in history as the worst case of reflux I've ever experienced. The pasta I had for dinner was spicier than I expected. And while it was delicious, I would come to regret that. When I got home, I didn't feel awful, but not great. Eventually I threw up just a little. I hoped that would help. It didn't. Finally I went to bed, sometimes sleeping it off is the best thing I can do.

But I woke up at 4 in excruciating pain. Not just some burning in my esophagus but seemingly my abdomen and around to my back were awful. I was certain this was the epigastric pain of disaster. Panic set in. I got up and took my protonix early, then sat down to take my BP. I had taken it before dinner and it was so low I actually chuckled. (100/60.) Now it was 140/85. More panic. I started to tremble. Only 22 weeks. It's too soon.

I prayed, and tried to steady myself. I tried to breathe through it, but now I was shaking and couldn't settle down. I talked to the baby and apologized for what may come. She kicked and I wondered how much longer I'd get to feel that.

Finally I went to take a warm bath and try to relax and wait and see if the meds would help. After an hour, I did feel a little better and I decided to try get a little more sleep and re-evaluate in the morning.

I woke up again at 6 and felt a little better, but not great. I still felt so anxious that I couldn't go back to sleep. I was up another hour.

Back up again a little while later with Robbie and I felt about the same, but the pain was up my esophagus now, which told me that it was "just" reflux and not my liver. I tried to let the relief hit me, but it just wouldn't come.

I had a regular appointment with my chiropractor this morning, so I decided to go see him. In my mind I thought if I was going to end up in the hospital, at least I could get my body in good shape before dealing with a crappy hospital bed. I was the picture of hope. Amazingly, when I told him how I was feeling, he did some voodoo with some nerves to the liver & stomach and the relief was almost instantaneous. It wasn't completely gone, but the improvement was profound. God bless that witch doctor.

I came home and tried to relax for a while before work. My BP had come down to 130/80. still higher than I liked, but frankly, that's about what it was prepregnancy and nothing too scary. I ate tums almost hourly.

I was afraid to eat anything. Eventually I ate some pop-tarts since that seems to be the only thing that doesn't piss my stomach off lately, but that's all I had all day. I sipped water very slowly. Definitely didn't hit my hydration goal today. Sorry kidneys, but today the stomach won. I'll focus on you tomorrow.

I called the doctor and asked if I could up my dose of protonix, then played back and forth until they finally decided to switch me to Nexium.

Late in the evening, the worst of it seemed to finally fade. I ate my usual salad dinner and practically held my breath to see how it settled. Seemed to go okay.

The whole day, all I could feel was an overwhelming sense of doom. I tried to focus on hope, but I couldn't seem to find any. I knew it was a symptom of Anxiety and not truth, but I couldn't seem to fight it back anyway. All I wanted to do was go home, pull the covers over my head and cry. After work, that's essentially what I did.

David laid with me a little while, looking lost. He wants to be comforting and supportive, but having never experience Anxiety, and just generally being the most optimistic guy ever, he doesn't really get it. I asked him to reassure me that we'd get through anything that may come- even The Worst, he said of course we would. I know he means that, but he also doesn't think it will come to pass. I don't really know if I do or not.

For so long, I felt so strongly about the month of November. We're going to make it to November. This baby is coming in NOVEMBER. But now even the limit of viability a mere 8 days away seems like a century. Is something changing? Is my body really failing me AGAIN? Is Anxiety overruling any hope or logic in my head? I really don't know.

I never thought I'd be the person holding my breath for 24 weeks. Anyone with any sense at all knows that 24 weeks just isn't enough. 50/50 odds just aren't good enough when you're talking about your child. But right now 50/50 seems light-years from zero. I'm clinging to next Thursday knowing it represent A Chance. And the day after is my next peri appointment where I know they are going to check on the baby again and do some labs to assess how my body is holding up. I'm hoping that if all of those things go well, Anxiety can take a hike and allow Hope to return again.

In the mean time, I'm clinging to those who seem to be able to hold on to it a little better than me. And I'm asking for prayers for both physical health and mental peace for me so that I can continue to feel these amazing little feet dancing on my bladder all the way to November.

Trish

Quickie update

2011-08-12T12:44:00.000-05:00

After having trouble getting to sleep and then having nightmares about being sick again (Apparently my brain thinks I have a A.K.U. which is apparently some sort of heart condition. WTF?) I called the doc this morning and she had me come in.

It's really just reflux. BP was good, protein was normal, no swelling etc. I now have a script for some protonix. Please let it work. And be laced with some baby-safe Xanax.

Is it Thanksgiving yet?

Trish

2011-08-12T01:21:00.000-05:00

Anxiety is really getting the better of me tonight.

I've had a pretty major case of what is most likely acid reflux most of the day. Tonight it started really burning up in my upper chest. I started to google for ideas to help when I saw it referenced as "epigastric pain."

Now, my understanding of epigastric pain was much lower, under the breast bone. That's certainly where it was when I was pregnant with Robbie. But a few sources say it can include the chest. And that's when the panic set in.

My blood pressure is fine. Better than fine, really. It was 115/70ish. Even after a warm bath and an hour of near panic attack, it's only 120/77. I'm not remotely swollen. My head doesn't hurt, my side only hurts in the dullest of ways (which is almost constant since my gallbladder surgery last year.) But it doesn't matter. The seed was planted in my head.

I've tried to read to distract myself but can't focus. Took a bath to try to relax but I couldn't really sit still long enough. I've tried to logic myself through it, but Anxiety has struck.

I had a talk with the baby (who has been pretty sedate all day but is pretty worked up tonight. Probably my own adrenaline revving her up. Yes, for the time being we're going with "she." Just go with it. No, we don't know which sex is true. I called Robbie "she" for 6 months, who knows?) I told her how much I love her. I apologized if my body fails her.

I'm only 22w. If disaster strikes, that's it. History has taught me that my body can betray me and my babies at any turn. God, please don't let it let us down again.

The thing is that the last few weeks I really feel like I've connected with this baby. I talk to her frequently. Sometimes in my head, sometimes out loud. I promised myself I wouldn't disconnect from this baby to try to protect myself. Every day together is a blessing and I'm going to count them. And for the most part, I think I have. I've enjoyed getting to know her habits and cycles. Quiet in the morning, busy at night. If I sneeze too hard, I get kicked for my trouble. If I let myself get hungry enough to make my tummy growl, she gets cranky, too. It's been fun. I'd like a whole lot more of it.

But when the panic sets in like it has tonight, it is that much harder. I can't help but envision the worst. And it's all the more real in my head because of the image of her that I've been building.

I'm trying to work through it. I took a prevacid and about an hour later, the pain eased significantly. I ate a little something and it didn't get worse. I'm trying to stop running The Worst through my head and focus on the image of a full term baby arriving in late November. Picture the look on everyone's faces as they visit and see a baby in my hospital room with me.

I came to the computer for more distraction and remembered a gospel song I heard on a Pandora station the other day. It wasn't a gospel station so it surprised me, but in a very good way. I looked it up and have listened to it a few times.

Slowly I can feel my heart rate slowing, my stomach untwisting. What will be will be. It's out of my hands. All I can do is pray and enjoy the baby's activity for however long I have it.

I would appreciate any prayers for peace and health you can spare us. It's 15 weeks to full term. Let's hope that's a lot of time to panic over nothing.

--Trish

Perfectly Typical

2011-08-10T00:54:00.000-05:00

I couldn't have asked for a better 3 year check up today.

I was nervous for a few reasons. This was his first check post-tube removal, so a good weigh in would be a marker of success (or failure - eek!) Also, as it was his 3 year check up, if his height was sub-prime, this would be the point we would start worrying about trouble with Human Growth Hormone (HGH) deficiency, meaning referrals to new specialists, HGH injections etc. I really didn't want to do that. At all.

Robbie was in rare form this morning. Recently his language has further exploded, astounding me daily. Suddenly I'm hearing these very adult phrases coming out of him and just wondering where it comes from. Sunday he came running from the back of the house shouting "Heyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!" stopped at my side, grinned up at me and said "Whats goin' on?" Where in the world did he get that?

This morning, he wasn't really ready to be up so quite so early so when I asked him if he wanted to go see Dr. P his answer was "No mommy. Wanna take a nappy." and pointed back at his bed. I know the feeling.

Later in the car, I asked if he knew where we were going but he didn't answer. I asked if we were going to see Dr. P and he sighed like he was 12 and said "Yes, mommy. We're going to see Dr. P." Guess my questions got annoying. I couldn't help but laugh and wonder when this happened.

The trip there seemed like a demonstration of all his latest knowledge. He's known most of his colors for months, but grey has challenged him. But I think he pointed out every grey car in the parking lot walking in. Then pointed out a triangle flag (a pennant) on the wall. The things he sees amazes me, it took me a while to even figure out what triangle flag he was talking about.

Once we were called back, he was weighed - 25.4 pounds, and measured- 35 inches. Then we waited for Dr. P. She came in, cooed over Robbie, marveled that he's 3 already and went to plot his growth from his 2 year check up. She said she was looking for 2" of growth in the last year.... (I felt like there should have been a drum roll) "and he grew three!" WOOHOO! He was at 7.5% for height and 10% for weight. He's still a peanut, but no growth hormones needed!

As she was still charting, I lifted his shirt and said "and look..." and she was thrilled. Since our GI doc had taken Robbie's tube out, she didn't know. The fact that he'd grown so well ON HIS OWN was cause for more celebration.

The rest of the exam went equally as well. She commented on his full set of teeth, saying that indicated good growth as well (he's had all of his teeth since shortly after he turned 2.) She was completely happy with his speech, his motor skills, pretty much everything.

We discussed nutrition a bit. I'm going to try V8 juice (because he still hates vegetables), skim milk (because he's still only drinking maybe 3oz/day of milk, but loves water), and a vitamin. And potty training. She was completely unconcerned at his lack of interest in going on the potty, which was a relief.

I do feel a little pressure about the potty training because he can't move to the 3yo room at daycare until he is, but I also do not care to shame him into doing it. He's made some progress in that he will sit on the potty for a sticker, but that's as far as we've gotten. She really shrugged it off.

We did talk about the fact that his stoma site is still leaking, which was probably 2nd on my list of conccerns behind growth. Fortunately she also was unconcerned about that, saying to give it a few more months to heal. If it gets worse, I'm to call the surgeon, but right now it just occasionally leaves a wet spot on his shirt, nothing major.

He got his Hep A booster (upsetting, but not traumatizing, easily cured by a sticker) and we were on our way, with her overall assessment ringing in my ears: "perfectly typical three year old."

Take that, prematurity. TAKE THAT.

--Trish

21w3d: Still kicking

2011-08-07T21:42:00.001-05:00

The emotional roller coast of being pregnant again is astounding. I can go from completely confident to sheer gut-wrenching terror in under 4 seconds. It doesn't take anything. A headache, swollen feet, some bubbles in my pee and I'm certain this is the beginning of the end. I think edging towards viability, and towards Robbie's gestational age at birth, is freaking me out more, not less.

Truthfully, things have been good. I've actually had more trouble with my blood pressure being too low than too high. (Felt really cruddy earlier and actually registered 87/63 at one point. I'm lucky I was still able to sit upright, though standing was definitely out of the question.) I had a panic on Thursday when my feet swelled up like tree trunks all of a sudden. I had just been to the OB earlier that morning where my protein and BP were fine, but my feet felt like stuffed sausages all of a sudden. Then I looked up the sodium content of the chili I had for dinner and nearly passed out. More than 2000mg. In a freaking bowl of chili from Steak and Shake. I won't do that again. Every time I get scared, if I just wait an hour and take some deep breaths, things turn around. I'm just so damned paranoid.

One minute I'm wondering if I could ever convince my OB to wait and deliver me at 38 weeks instead of 37 (I know she won't. Both she and my peris are adamant it isn't safe, but I can daydream) and the next I'm running through a list of protocols for the NICU for this baby (no one sees him/her but David until I do, sign on the isolette about being present for first baths, feedings etc.) If I'm forgetful, it's not "baby brain" it's just that I'm so busy working on plans in my head that I'm too distracted to remember to lock the car doors when I get to work.

I had my anatomy scan a week ago and all was "perfect." I saw the one remaining peri in the practice I hadn't seen. I really liked him a lot. He was very pleased to report that all measurements were exactly right. (I watched. I was 20w1d at the exam and everything measured between 19w6d & 20w6d.) I passed my first GTT with flying colors. I still hate that orange cola, though. Good golly that shit is nasty.

My next growth scan is at 24 weeks and that's the point where I start seeing doctors a lot (more.) I have also already been warned that I'll have to do another 24 hour urine then. I hate the damned pee jug more than anything. The worst part is that it's probably the most important test for me since it was my kidneys that bore the brunt of the preeclampsia. I know there is no avoiding them. Doesn't make them any more pleasant, though.

The baby has been moving and kicking a lot. Just like Robbie, s/he tends to hang out in the breech position, with feet squarely ensconced in my bladder. My placenta has also apparently grown forward into an anterior position again, though way at the top of my uterus, so I can feel the low movement, but very little of the high. I am still loving every kick, though- even the ones that really kinda hurt.

Robbie still doesn't seem to grasp the concept of a sibling. He seems to think babies are cute, though and treats them pretty gently so hopefully when the big surprise comes, he'll take it okay. But we'll see. Otherwise he's doing great. I need to do a big post on just what he's been up to, but his 3year well-baby check is Tuesday (yeah, it's a little late. They were booked!) so I figure I'll do it then when I can add complete stats. Suffice it to say that he amazes me every day. I really don't think I'm ever going to get used to him talking and eating and drinking just like it's the most perfectly natural thing ever. I count my blessings as his mother every day.

I am trying very hard to focus on the blessings of this pregnancy, trying to read into the "good signs" instead of focusing on the bad ones. But the general feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop lingers. I hope that as I start to pass milestones, that will ease, but I don't know if it will. It's definitely work every day to let go and let God.

I have mostly been trying to keep myself distracted. I actually set a goal to read 50 books this year so I've been working towards that. I set that goal before I got pregnant again and I know that once the baby comes, the time to read will shrink to mostly nothing, so I need to get a little ahead. So far I'm about on track (I'm at 28 read so far.) but I need to kick it into gear a little to get ahead for at least December.

Of course, when I'm in my Debbie Downer funks I think "well, when I go on bedrest, I can read a bunch then. If it lasts long enough and I'm not stoned out of my gourd on mag." And then I shake myself out of that. No planning for Bad Shit. Positive Vibes and The Secret and all that mumbo jumbo.

Anyway, on that note, I think I'll go do some reading now. Next up is "The Help." So far no one has said they DIDN'T like it, so I have high hopes. Feel free to recommend your favorites. Please, no dark shit. My anxiety-ridden brain apparently can't take anything too intense these days or I have nightmares. I generally prefer funny mysteries a la Janet Evanovich or Lisa Lutz. I also apparently have a thing for Vampire porn, no matter how trashy. (Yes, JR Ward, I'm looking at YOU.) If you love anything in that vein (get it, vein? Vampires! ha!) please let me know. I'm always up for new brain candy.

--Trish

19w4d: Anxiety

2011-07-25T21:39:00.000-05:00

Today has been a rough day. I started the day with a headache that just wouldn't quit. Around lunch time it got significantly worse, so I took my BP. it was consistently around 150/90. I panicked.

I told myself to calm down that I didn't feel great, it was just one point in time, pre-e at 19 weeks isn't impossible, but it's really rare, I'm not swollen etc. My stomach churned in knots anyway.

I had to go to work, so I decided to check it again in an hour and if it was still high, I'd call the doctor and ask to be seen. Then I spent the next hour imagining the worst in my head.

I got to work and checked it again. Around 135/85. Pretty normal for me, at least pre-pregnancy (it's actually been lower since being pregnant, though.) I felt a little better.

Waited another hour, checked it again. 122/77. Yeah, probably going to be just fine.

Of course, my stomach was still in knots. My hands were still shaking. Then I started to convince myself that the stomach ache was epigastric pain. I ate tums and eventually took a zantac and finally started to feel better. Continued to monitor my BP and it's consistently been low 120s/low-mid 70s.

I hate what pre-e does to me. I feel like I've had a pretty good reign on anxiety, but then something happens, and I'm off the deep end. I was 100% aware of the fact that this was Anxiety Disorder Freak Out and not to be taken seriously, but I was powerless to stop it.

I still feel shaken up tonight. Nineteen weeks (and 4 days!) is way too far from viability. 24 weeks isn't far enough either, but I know that at this point, there is literally nothing to be done. And the images in my head were far too real. Sometimes an active imagination is overrated.

My next appointment is Friday. I'll be having my anatomy scan and seeing one of the peris. (One I actually haven't met yet.) I guess we'll see how things go then. If I can stay sane long enough.

Trish

18w5d

2011-07-19T21:28:00.000-05:00

Still pregnant. Still okay, as far as I know.
Yesterday was sort of an unofficial halfway point. Since I won't be allowed to go past 37 weeks, I'm halfway to that point. THAT is weird.

I think I'm actually bigger now than I was when I delivered Robbie, even though I've still only gained 3 pounds, putting me a solid 25 below what I was when I had him. I'm in maternity clothes essentially full time. Considering I never wore them at all with Robbie, it's weird. It's sort of a love/hate thing. It's nice to not feel split in half by day's end, but I also constantly feel like they're up too far or falling down. I also can't seem to pull them up properly w/o pulling my underwear up too far. (I know you're glad I'm shared.)
Today seemed to be a day when several people made comments about the pregnancy while giving my belly the eye. A coworker actually said "Trish, the belly!?" in a sort of "where did THAT come from?" kind of way.

Movement has been hit and miss. I'll go all day feeling nothing, then feel a lot of turning (I assume) and lighter movements for a while. The long stretches make me nervous already. Actually, my anxiety level seems to have ratcheted up quite a bit in the last week.

On top of the "oh shit, my side hurts, what if it's my liver?" random freak outs, the more "normal" worries have started to set in. How will I manage two kids? What if they hate each other? What if I don't love them the same? How will I ever love someone else as much as I love Robbie? What if David's no more help this time than he was when Robbie was a baby? (We have discussed that last item, but I still worry about it.)

It's still not the overwhelming sense of impending doom type of anxiety I had pretty much my entire pregnancy with Robbie, but I'm definitely noticing myself thinking "the worst" more frequently than I'd like. Been using the Doppler a lot to ease worries about the baby.

Robbie still doesn't seem to get the concept. I've told him there is a baby in my belly several times. Last week I was wearing a nightgown with butterflies on it and he said "no mommy, no baby. Is butterfly!" When I explained that the baby was IN my belly and not ON my belly, he lifted my gown, stared at my stomach for a LONG time, then just looked at me like I'd lost my mind and just shook his head.

My anatomy scan is now set for next Friday. We won't be finding out the sex of the baby again, which seems to disappoint almost everyone. We're happy with the decision, though. I'll just be happy to get a look at all his parts and hopefully everything will be present and accounted for.

I also have to do my first GTT next week. Not exactly looking forward to that, but I'll live. I'll have another at 28 weeks. And another pee jug collection in between at 24 weeks. Essentially at 24 weeks, I become a lab rat. I'll be seen once a week at least. I know it's all worth it, but I'm dreading it, too.

Otherwise, things seem to be good. My pelvis is starting to ache quite a bit. I wish someone could explain that it doesn't need to spread, its services wont be required this time either. The heartburn is kicking my ass, but mostly is manageable with tums. I didn't have it at all with Robbie, so that took me by surprise, but it's normal, so I just go with it. I had an almost constant migraine from 12 weeks to 17, but that seems to have eased, too. Only one last week and 2 this, so hopefully that little hormone surge has passed and I can stop worrying about an impending stroke. My blood pressure cuff has certainly gotten a work out lately.

That's really about it. Things at home are great. Robbie is doing amazingly. He is 3 and sometimes I want to throttle him, but just about the time I'm ready to pull my hair out, he says or does something adorable and I fall in love with him a little more.

David's been great with him. It's so fun watching him with him. Lately their thing has been to go for a walk together in the evenings. Robbie tells him "put shoes on, go fo' a stwoll! (go for a stroll.) and off they go. They couldn't possibly be any cuter together.

All in all, life is pretty good. I know too well that things can change in a flash, so I'm trying very hard to enjoy each day as they come.

--Trish

Prayer request

2011-06-28T00:41:00.001-05:00

I'm pleading for prayers for Sam, and for Sandi. Sandi is mom to Sam who was born weighing just 12 oz. He is now 5 months old and tonight is bringing a huge battle for him. He's struggled with a lot of issues, the one tonight is severe acidosis.
Sandi got "the call" tonight to come to his bedside. They're doing what they can.
Sandi is one of the most amazing moms I know. Her tireless fight for Sam began long before he was born when doctor after doctor told her to give up on him. Sam has proven doctors wrong time and again. I'm hoping so much that tonight is another of those times.

Please join me in praying for Sandi, her husband, Sam, and Sam's twin brother Sebastien. They all need it.

--Trish

**sad update**
Sam lost his battle early this morning.
Please continue to pray for Sandi and her whole family.
Sandi has a blog if you would like to send your condolences.

http://fromaspeck.wordpress.com/

Reflecting on Father's Day

2011-06-21T22:59:00.000-05:00

I always knew (hoped?) that I'd like being a mother. I knew I'd love a child and hoped I'd been a good one. I expected to feel love at a depth I hadn't before, though it seemed impossible to love more than I already did. As it turns out, I do like being a mother, do love my child beyond the ability to express it and I think I'm doing a fairly good job at it. I still find it amusing the unbelievably immense joy I get at the simplest things, though.

Over the weekend, David was using my laptop to look something up. He rarely uses my computer, so I guess this seemed unusual to Robbie. He climbed up behind David and looked over his shoulder and asked "Daddy, what doin'?" Joy. It was the first really inquisitive question I'd heard him utter, and the novelty made me giggle with pleasure.

At another point, he was eating his lunch very slowly. I had remained at the table, keeping him company while David got up and cleaned up a bit. After David was gone, he came behind me and was rubbing my shoulders. (God bless him.) Robbie didn't understand though, and got very upset, standing in his chair and putting his hands up. "NO DADDY! Stop huwting Mommy!" My little knight in shining armor was there to protect me. (Don't worry we explained that Mommy LIKES massages and he settled right down.) My soul just melted.

But even more surprising than the intensity of those simple joys is the way that he's helped me love other people more. I do think that I'm more compassionate than I was before his birth, but I mean in a more direct way- the way that I see both my husband and my father.

As much as I love both Robbie and my husband, I love them both even more when I hear their conversations. David was recently telling Robbie about how he was going to take him to a baseball game and how much he was looking forward to teaching him all about the game, and showing him how to swing a bat and throw a ball. He gets so excited when he talks about taking Robbie camping (That's a daddy-kid thing. I don't camp. Call me at the spa if you need me.) that it just makes my heart soar.

Seeing my own dad as a grandfather has been another area I didn't expect to enjoy so much. My dad was a good dad, anyway. He raised me without a mother and while he certainly wasn't perfect, I never doubted how much loved me or how proud of me he was. That's as good a legacy as it gets, I think.

And man, does he love Robbie. Sometimes to their own detriment since neither seems to understand limits. My dad will crawl around in the floor until he can't stand or throw Robbie up in the air until his arms give out, but if Robbie wants more- more he will get. They both also frequently get scolded for getting a little too rowdy in public. Manners are important.

There isn't a week that goes by that my dad doesn't call and ask if he can come over- he's found some special treasure Robbie just has to have. It might be a book, or a puzzle or a train, but "it just fell in the cart!"

The relationship between all of them (David, my dad & Robbie) has been more slowly built than the relationship between Robbie and me. I think as a mother, my instinct to nurture, and probably the hormones, let to a quicker connection. But with the guys, it's come more and more with time. I found it a little frustrating in the beginning.

My dad would pace in the NICU. I don't think he sat down one time in 96 days. He made it his personal mission to cater than anything David or I needed, but was as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. He had no desire to hold Robbie at all. It wasn't until Robbie was home and my dad was seated, that I pretty much threw Robbie in his arms and said "here!" that he did it. And then I thought he might actually hyperventilate.

David just looked frustrated a lot. He didn't know what to do. God forbid I didn't know the answer either- total panic. He's not good in situations that are unfamiliar and Robbie was unfamiliar in a way that few experience.

But these days, they all have a very special bond. Robbie often asks for "Gampa" when he's trying to get out of doing something he doesn't want to. I have to avoid even mentioning that he's coming over until he's here because Robbie will go to the door and refuse to move for hours if he knows Grandpa is expected. Robbie usually asks for his dad in the morning "Daddy! Daaadddy? WHERE ARE YOU?" and then remind himself "Daddy's at work!" during the week. It's a special treat to see how much he loves the men in his life.

What I know for sure is that I am very lucky to have all three of them in mine.

--Trish

See Spot, Run

2011-06-16T00:47:00.000-05:00

When I was pregnant with Robbie, I spotted. A lot. Not a lot of blood necessarily, just all. the. freaking. time. It sucked. After I'd call the doctor for the 10th time, I'd go to the unoccupied 3rd floor and work and call my husband, wailing into the phone "Why does this keep happening?" He would try to calm me down, but I felt like I was living in a constant state of terror, wondering if this Spot was The Spot of Doom.

So when I got pregnant this time, I faithfully inspected the toilet paper at each bathroom break, preparing for the worst. But Spot didn't come. Not at 5, or 6 or 10 weeks.
Around about the 12 week mark, I stopped inspected and started glancing.

On Monday, I had to double glance. Surely that's not...... but it was. Just the faintest streak in some cervical fluid. Fuck.

I told myself to chill out. It was so very, very little. There are explanations. I just saw the baby on an ultrasound seven days prior. The baby is fine. Right? I decided I wasn't call. There's nothing they can do anyway. Just go to the doctor at the next visit and it will be fine. But that's three weeks away. It'll be fine.

Of course, after several hours (and bathroom breaks to check for more- all negative.) I decided wringing my hands for three weeks was dumb. I'd just call the doctor and see what they said. They would tell me it was nothing and then I would be fine.

The nurse called back and said they'd like to see me. Just to be sure. I was at work and really not in the best position to be able to leave right then, so I opted to be seen Tuesday morning.

I spent the rest of the day arguing with myself. I felt like instead of having an angel on one shoulder and a demon on the other, I had anxiety on one and reason on the other. It was neck-and-neck all day.

When I got into the u/s room we saw the baby right away. Very still. My heart stopped. Oh no. And then......he waved. (Don't get excited. I'm using "he" generically. We won't be finding out the sex before birth.) I said "moving!" and she said yes, heart looked good and immediately let me listen. Heart rate 161 bpm. She commented how he seemed to be waving. I said "hi baby! now please behave!"

I left the office with a spring in my step, determined to leave anxiety behind. And hopefully Spot, too.

Trish

Protein

2011-06-13T01:38:00.000-05:00

Well, I guess pregnancy #4 hit its first snag.

At my OB appointment last Monday, I was given the results of my 24 hour urine. Protein was at 210. that's up from 140 pre-pregnancy. "Normal" is under 150. "Concerning" (aka: mild preeclampsia) is 300. This was not my regular OB (who has the nerve to be on maternity leave. How dare she!) but fortunately I like all the docs in the practice, so it was okay. Her leading theories are either diabetes or kidney damage.

I really would be surprised if it were diabetes. Being a fat woman with lot of doctors, I've been tested 7 ways from Sunday and everything is always normal. Dr. Sunshine wanted yet another A1C check (I'll save you the googling, it's basically a long term blood sugar test), which she ordered that day. It came back fine. Again.

Kidney disease... well, that's another story. Now, I was also tested for that before we got the blessing to try again, but really, that's not unlikely. My protein levels just before Robbie was born were over 9000. That's......bad. Really bad. Like darn-near-kidney-failure bad. Logic would lead one to believe that my kidneys do have some residual damage, even if it didn't show up in the preconception tests.

In any case, to say this was unwelcome news is pretty much the understatement of the year. I managed not to burst into tears in the middle of the office, but just barely. The rest of the appointment was good. I ended up with another ultrasound because they still couldn't get the baby on the Doppler (still can't at home, either.) and everything looked great. All my other tests were perfect. But all I could hear in my brain was "protein", "not normal", and then words that I'm still processing "hoping to get you at least into the 30s." While 30 would be better than 26, I don't want any 30s less than 36. I really want 37.

I left the office and called David. He was equally disheartened. That was almost worse. He's always so positive and hopeful. To hear him comment about how crappy all my pregnancies are- it stung. I felt guilty both about being such a failure and for dampening his optimism.

By the afternoon, I had talked with some preemie mom friends with a better ability to see things clearly. The panic eased and I realize that I still am where I was before the appointment. Worried, but hopeful, with prayer to guide me through. If it is kidney damage, it certainly doesn't make life simpler, but it also doesn't guarantee failure. I still think we can get through this, and am still hopeful for a November baby. Hopefully late November.

As of now I'm 13 1/2 weeks pregnancy. I've past what I didn't know was the halfway mark with Robbie. I'm still hoping this is the end of the first third of my pregnancy, and not the first half. But as always, prayers are very greatly appreciated.

--Trish

12w0d: NT scan

2011-06-02T15:32:00.000-05:00

Well, the baby is good.
I was ridiculously nervous this morning. I was relieved they didn't take my BP because I can only imagine what it would have been.
I had a fairly lengthy genetic counseling with what must have been the world's nicest counselor. She was one of those people you meet and think "I would like to be her friend." Even she commented several time, "I think we could talk all day!"

Took my blood, then sent me to wait for my u/s. Then came back and needed more blood because my insurance requires a different lab for the CF screening. She'd had to prick my finger twice for all the drops she needed, so this made a 3rd stick. She was really apologetic and kept expecting me to say no more. Good thing needles don't bother me.

Then she, the phlebotomist & I discussed which is worse- blood work or a 24 hour urine. I'm 100% that it's the 24 hour urine. My position is that if you told me I could choose between 1 blood draw a day for the rest of my pregnancy, or once a month 24 hour urine collection, I'd take the blood draws, no question.

Anyway, back out and then in for the u/s. I was so nervous that my hands were shaking by the time I got in there. I was just convinced it was going to be a still u/s. I told the (also very nice) u/s tech I was nervous and she was sympathetic. She must have looked at my chart because she didn't even question it, just said "well, considering your history, I understand." but honestly before I could ask her to show me the heartbeat right away, I could see the baby wiggling around. Definitely alive.

She measured CRL and said it was perfect, then looked at some other things before focusing on the nuchal fold. To me, it looked huge. I thought "shit, it's big. Okay. It's big. We'll deal. We can handle anything." She kept trying to get a measurement but couldn't quite get the angle she wanted. But eventually she said she got 2 and both were 1.2 so she thought that was good. She measured the heart rate- 170 bpm. Then left to get the peri in case he wanted to try for a different angle.

Yes, I said he. Dr. Bitchy is apparently on vacation for a month (seriously, I need a new job.) The bad news? The covering peri was Dr. Sunshine- the man I *HATED* when I was pregnant with Robbie. He was the "I'm the one that gets to pull the trigger" guy. The "you're not going to make it 12 hours" guy. The "well, at 26 weeks the baby has an 85% chance of living, but only a 68% chance of not having significant life-altering disabilities." Yeah. THAT guy.

As soon as he came in, I could feel my entire body tense. I'd started to relax a little when things looked good, but that all went by the wayside as soon as I saw him. He was genuinely nice. He was smiling and said he was happy with the scans she got and everything was normal. Then he asked when I should be seen again. I said no one had told me. He asked why I was there. I reminded him (while tripping over my words) that he had been.. uh.. "involved" in my son's delivery at 26 weeks because of preeclampsia.

He tried to give me the "oh, I thought your name sounded familiar" speech (yeah, right.) and then said I should come back in 4 weeks for a growth check. Then told me it was nice to see me again. I automatically responded "you, too." then internally called myself a nasty, nasty liar. NO IT WASN'T. Oh, and did I mention he rubbed my belly while talking to me? Seriously.

Anyway, I go out to check out and make my next appointment and it turns out I get to see him next time, too. Lucky, lucky me. I've decided this is an exercise in temper control and patience. At least this time I'm not terrified and confused. I'm prepared.

And then I was on my way. I officially told some people at work. And facebook. So it's official. I'm going to go forward under the assumption that all is well. (well, I'll try.) At least now I don't have to try to pretend my jeans still fit. It's all elastic from here.

Trish

A very good day

2011-05-30T22:24:00.000-05:00

For most people, the day that their child is born is one of the best- if not THE best- days of their lives. For those of us whose children were born too soon, it's not the same. It's something that my preemie-parent friends discuss frequently. The days leading up to our children's birthdays often bring overwhelming feelings of sadness, fear & sorrow.

Yesterday was the anniversary of being admitted to the hospital. Today was the day I knew he was coming soon. Even though I was keeping things from the doctors so we could have as much time with him as possible, I knew it wouldn't be long until the labs revealed things were headed south quickly. Would it be my blood pressure or kidney failure that did it? I didn't know. But neither were going to be delayed much longer.

Tomorrow at 11:22 am, Robbie will be three years old. The day brought the single biggest source of happiness into my life, but it was a day of terror more than celebration. Nothing can ever change that.

However, there are things that mitigate the sorrow: My son's smile. The way he throws his head backward when he laughs. When he grabs my face to plant a big slobbery kiss on me. Two of the biggest things that continue to amaze and thrill me are simply watching him eat and drink.

Eat and drink he does. It was more than a year ago when we started to try to wean him from his tube feedings. We had success and then failures. Then more success and more failures. Eventually eating became "normal." He asked for snacks, enjoyed meals. Neither of us cried at the site of a spoon or a bowl anymore. But drinking was even harder. He would sip occasionally, sometimes even tease us by downing 2 or 3 oz in a day. But then he'd go weeks without so much as allowing a cup to sit on the table near him. I wondered if it would ever happen.

We eventually weaned him to just water in the tube. He could eat enough to maintain his weight, but he just wouldn't drink. Every once in a while, he'd slip and prove to me that he could. He'd get really hot and down 4 oz in a sitting, for example. I tried to push him a little, but still keep him alive. He would backslide and all the experts would encourage me to add to his tubings again. I kept thinking I needed to push just a little harder, but when he'd have a bad day or three, I'd get nervous and give in to the pressure.

But at the end February I finally reached my breaking point. I always encourage parents to listen to their instincts, but I had been ignoring my own. I needed to give him a chance to make it. On February 27, we tubed Robbie for what would be the last time.

The first few days were pretty rough. He would drink only water, and not much of that. 7oz, 9 oz. Then we had a "good" day- 12oz. But then another bad- 7. I got nervous. Could he go a 4th day? He was still wetting, still crying tears, still sweating, still running around like a typical crazy toddler- no outward signs of dehydration. David and I wrung our hands a bit, but moved forward. He drank 17oz. Not that 20 that the experts wanted, but it felt like gallons. Then he had another bad day- 7oz. But then another 17 again. Back and forth it went for weeks- sometimes he'd have 2 or 3 bad days in a row, but then he'd have a great one. The first time he hit 20oz in a day, David and I oohed and ahhed and patted each other on the back.

We pushed applesauce for snacks as an extra source of liquid. He started to take sips of juice from a juice box. We bargained. "Take a sip and you can have another cracker. Good job!" He started to cheer for himself sometimes. He'd take a drink and say "Good Job, Wobbie!"

And then it had been a month since he'd been tubed. And I suddenly started thinking about a life without a tube. We put the IV pole & feeding pump in the basement.

The weeks went by and it became clear that he was never going to be a kid who regularly drank 20+ oz per day. He averages closer to 15-17, but he still wet, sweated, and cried. Something else was happening, too. He was gaining weight. He put on more than 2 pounds by himself! He hadn't gained 2 pounds in a year even with the tube. And now he'd done by himself in six weeks.

Then around 2 months without the tube, he got sick. He stopped eating and barely drank. I panicked. My friends reassured me that their healthy kids often did the same when they get sick. He'll get through it.

We saw the doctor- a double ear infection. When the doctor prescribed antibiotics that always upset his stomach, I felt sick myself. I was nearly in tears in the office- what if I have to tube him for hydration? She said "it's better than an IV." She clearly didn't "get it." But it turned out Robbie did. He drank just enough to get by. And as his health improved, so did his eating. He lost nearly 3 pounds in the 2 weeks of being sick and medicated, but a week later, he'd regained a pound of that. And the rest came back slowly over the next few weeks.

On Thursday, Robbie had his regular quarterly GI appointment. It had been a full 3 months since he'd been tubed. When the NP came in and asked how things had been going, I lead with that fact. She smiled and nodded. In telling her how things had gone, I mentioned my friend Becky and her son Evan, adding that Evan had his tube pulled a year ago. Before I could even finish my thought she asked, "Want me to take it out?"

I was stunned silent. I had planned to ask how long it had to be, but I expected it to be later. I asked if she was serious. She said, "Yes. He's gained nearly 3 pounds. He's doing great. It's only up from here." I started to cry. She left to get a syringe while I cursed myself for having not brought the camera.

I used the last breath of battery charge on my cell phone to take one last tubed-Robbie photo. Five minutes later, it was done. She put a layer of Tegaderm over the wound. Robbie complained about the "sticker" on his belly, but when we told him to leave it on, he accepted it and went back to pushing the doctor's rolling stool around. He was completely unaware of the momentous nature of what had just happened.

To further surprise me, she also discharged us from GI entirely. He still needs Nexium & Miralax, but as long as our pediatrician will write for them (she will) we "don't need" a GI doctor. Yet again, I was near tears. Robbie now only has one specialist- an ENT. How very.... typical of us.

As we checked out, we showed off Robbie's newly flat belly and said our good-byes. I'm pretty sure I floated to the car. I called David on the way and was struck by how nervous he sounded. I didn't feel nervous at all. If you'd have asked me a month ago how I would feel the day we pulled his tube, I would have said "excited and nervous." But really, all I felt was joy. I know we can do this. I know HE can do this.

The joy that I felt that afternoon has been carrying me through the sad memories of three years ago. The journey has not been easy, and has left scars both physical and emotional- but we have been rewarded with victories that continue to defy preeclampsia and prematurity.

Three years ago today was a very bad day. But today is a very, very good one.

--Trish

10w5d Milestone

2011-05-24T23:55:00.000-05:00

I tried to use the Doppler tonight- no luck. There were some brief seconds I thought it was getting something on the screen but couldn't focus on it or hear it at all. I didn't freak out or anything. I would have obviously preferred to hear it, but it's early, I know that.

And about 20 minutes after that, I hit a milestone- first barf of this pregnancy. I've definitely been gagging my head off for weeks, and there was a day in the car I really thought it was going to happen, but so far it hadn't. I'd even gotten to the point where I'd stopped running to the bathroom because as much as I gagged, I just didn't puke.

But tonight it hit me and I thought "um, that feels like it's really coming" so fortunately I decided to play it safe and go stare at the toilet water for a few minutes. Good thing I did. And man, I really did feel better afterward. Honestly, I don't think I've felt this un-nauseated in weeks. Puking is no fun, but it was a bit of a relief.

My NT scan is next Thursday, so we should get a very long, very good look at the baby then. I'm really hoping to hear the baby on the Doppler before then, but even if I can't, that's not a REALLY long time, so hopefully I can hold it together until then.

--Trish

First OB check

2011-05-17T20:24:00.000-05:00

Had my first "OB" check today. It was actually the NP since my OB is on maternity leave herself.
The NP kept apologizing for asking so many questions. My chart is literally about 2.5" thick so there's no way she could get an idea of everything from that. It was no big deal, really. Of course, I totally blanked when she asked me about surgeries. I completely left out my two D&Cs (I had mentioned the miscarriages, just not the D&Cs) and the hysteroscopy. Um, those should have been the first things I mentioned. Fortunately she mentioned the D&Cs and my brain started working again.

I sort of chuckled after we got through the list and said "my lady bits have been very thoroughly probed." She just laughed and agreed "yes, they have."

Ordered the triple screen & an NT scan at the peri center. Wrote the order to send me for co management with the MFM. Added a pre-e work up as a baseline (24 hour jug-peeing, here I come!) and asked how I was doing.

We discussed physical feeling (quite good, really) and emotional (anxious, but at a manageable level.) And then she tried to send me on my way. She thought it was too early to try a Doppler and was afraid my insurance wouldn't pay for an u/s. I offered to pay for it out of pocket. No way I was leaving there without proof of life. Plus I hadn't taken my pants off yet. We couldn't be done.

I got to see my little bean wiggling around! It still looks like a large headed gummy bear, but was wiggling all around. Measured 9 weeks 3 days (I'm actually 9w5d, close enough.) with a heart rate of 176. Relief!

Now I just wait for the peri center to call and set up my appointments with them and get all my labs pulled. Hoping to do that Monday so I can do all my jug-peeing at home on Sunday. I am not "out" at work and do not want to have to explain my giant jug of pee to anyone. Plus it's just gross.

It's still amazing to me that things are going as well as they are. My mother-in-law asks every time we talk "Are you bleeding?" so I guess it's a surprise to her, too. (She really has a way with words, right?)

I had decided I was really just a crappy pregnant girl, but who knows- maybe I was wrong.

Trish

Fickle

2011-05-12T00:41:00.000-05:00

A friend on my preemie board today commented that time is so fickle. Boy, did she nail how I'm feeling these days. I feel like I'm simultaneously wanting to press pause & fast-forward on the remote control of my life.

These beginning weeks of pregnancy are interminable. I've reached 9 weeks with no signs of trouble. There was last week's "perfect" ultrasound, and the fact that I've hit 9 weeks without bleeding. My blood pressure is good, my weight has been steady even though I'm eating carbs like crazy. (I still have yet to puke, but I do get waves of nausea that only seem to respond to crackers.) I've had some cramps, a lot of round ligament pain- basically to tell me something is going on in there. I have no reason to believe anything is wrong except my own history. Which I'm trying to leave behind.

But at least 15 times a day, I think "I hope you're okay in there, little guy." because I just don't know. I will glad to get to the point that a Doppler is somewhat reliable. It was the only thing that kept me close to sane with Robbie. While I'm not nearly an anxious this time as I was with Robbie, a daily assurance of life would be really appreciated.

So of course, I'm wishing away the first trimester. Fast forward, please! Come on week 13! You can't get here quick enough! Funny to think that was the half way point for my pregnancy with Robbie. If I'd only known, eh?

At the same time, I know this is it for us. Assuming this baby makes it to birth, we're done with baby-making. I would love to have more children, but my daydreams are of adopting a sibling group out of foster care. That will likely never happen either as David isn't on board with that plan, but even if he were, I know any more children that came to us would be born of someone else's womb- not mine. And really, I'm at peace with that 99% of the time.

We're two infertiles who have managed 4 pregnancies and might actually manage 2 children. Both Robbie and I nearly lost our lives getting him here. It remains to be seen what this pregnancy will bring. But even if this pregnancy is perfect all the way to a scheduled C-Section at 37 weeks, this is it. I'm going to be 35 this year. And if we get lucky with this pregnancy, I'm going to take that luck and run. I feel done.

Of course, there is also an element of a "do-over." This was hard for me to rectify in my mind before we decided to have another baby. I had to really be honest with myself about why I wanted to get pregnant again. Did I want another baby? Did I want to birth another baby? Or did I just want to experience a whole pregnancy? Ultimately I admitted there is 10% of me that just wants to have a whole pregnancy. It's not something that eats at me a lot, but it's there. I find it really seeping in when I'm around friends in their third trimester. I have to bite back incessant questions about what it's like. I have to fight the urge to be THAT person, who wants to rub a belly and feel the baby kick. I'm enthralled. To me, it's like being within reaching distance of fame. I wonder what it really feels like.

The other 90% was genuinely wanting another child and this was what we determined to be the best choice for us to attempt that. So here we are. But this is it. I don't want to take it for granted, or wish it away. I want to experience all of it, to really take it all in, to appreciate and treasure it. While right now my boobs hurt enough to make me cry, and I can gag if I just think about the word "gag" for a second, in a year, this will all be a fond memory. I want to commit those memories in my mind. So I need to pause time.

I also know that these are likely our last months with Robbie as an only child. As much as I want so much for him to have a sibling, I also love having just him, too. Since I've been working 2nd shift, we've got a morning routine that involves getting Robbie up and coming back to the big bed together. Robbie says "snuggle on the pillow!" and we go snuggle up together for a while. He smashes his face into mine and demands first kisses, and then tickles. The boy loves to be tickled like no kid I've seen.

Usually at some point the kitties wander in and Robbie moves his affections to them. "Fuffy kitty" is particularly tolerant of Robbie's hugs. She'll sometimes meow a short cry that sounds a little like "help!" if he's using her as a pillow, but once he's cautioned (again) not to lay on the kitties, he goes back to gentle petting and coos at her "aw kitty.." Sometimes she comes to lay on the pillow between our heads, alternating between washing each of our heads. It's a nice way to wake up.

The last few weeks I try to picture another baby with us. How will Robbie take to having to share his morning snuggles with a baby? Will he want to lay on his tiny sibling, too? What if the new baby is an early riser who wants to be up and at 'em immediately? I know in my mind that we will all adjust, but I also treasure these remaining times of just us. Someone please hit pause for a minute.

Of course, that's not life. In reality time always seems paused & fast-forwarded at the same time. The days creep by but the months fly. I feel like I've been pregnant for a year, but Robbie was just born last week. Instead I'm only two months into what will hopefully be a solid 8.5 and Robbie will be three in a few short weeks. It's always the worrisome things that go so slowly and the cherished moments which seems to disappear in a flash. My friend was right- time is fickle, indeed.

--Trish

Lucky

2011-05-04T01:03:00.000-05:00

Perfect.
Not a word I'm used to hearing when it comes to my pregnancies, but I heard it today.

I was nervous as hell going in. It was the u/s tech that isn't my favorite. She dilly dallies taking measurements for far too long before showing me proof of life. Fortunately as she was zooming around looking at my ovaries, I saw a faint flicker that I knew was a heartbeat. I felt the knots in my stomach ease.

It was quick. She said "It's bigger. Much bigger." She took some measurements, then zoomed in on the heartbeat. In the end, the baby measured 7.8w with a heartrate of 156. I'm 7.7w pregnant, so that's pretty darned good.

We went off to see Dr. K. We chatted and went over when I can stop the metformin & the prometrium (13w and 10w, respectively) and that was pretty much it. On the way out the door she commented that this seemed like a quick visit. I said it was. I wish all her patients could be so lucky. And I meant it. I feel a fair amount of survivor's guilt that one round of Clomid/IUI and a few weeks later, I'm off to be my OB with a pregnancy deemed viable. I've watched so many people struggle through so much more.I got lucky. That's new to me. I promise I don't take it for granted.

David and I parted in the parking lot, but of us smiling. I will call my OB & Dr. Bitchy tomorrow to set up appointments. I haven't outed myself at work yet, but I do feel like we are now looking towards that. And we can start worrying about things like preeclampsia instead of imminent miscarriage. Lucky me.

--Trish

7w5d

2011-05-03T00:08:00.000-05:00

Due to scheduling conflict of Dr. K's, my ultrasound got moved up to tomorrow. Fortunately David was able to work around some meetings to get away to join me. My symptoms have definitely waned the last few days, so my anxiety level has sky-rocketed. For the first time this pregnancy I feel a truly intense sense of foreboding.

I keep trying to focus on a good outcome from tomorrows appointment- seeing a heartbeat, David holds my hand, we both cry. I hug Dr. K good-bye. I go home and call my OB and make my first appointment.

But I keep getting lost in the memory of the quiet ultrasound- the u/s tech desperately hoping to find an angle in which the heart really is beating. The look of resignation from David. The sympathetic eyes from Dr. K. Going home to cry and eat ice cream in bed.

I know that no matter what happens, we will get through it. We have survived the silent ultrasound before. And honestly, if things go well, it leads to even scarier times. The fact of the matter is that pregnancy for us will never be simple. It will never be easy or without stress or worry.

Tomorrow will tell is which kind of stress we deal with next. The grief of another loss or the worry of a pregnancy.

--Trish

March is tomorrow.

2011-04-29T21:40:00.000-05:00

Sorry for the long silence. We were without Internet service for 5 days. I started to twitch.

It is back up, but it's been a hectic week. So far, so good on the pregnancy front. I'm 7w1d and so far, no spotting. The symptoms are very mild and come and go enough to freak me out occasionally, but I'm trying to remain hopeful. Next ultrasound is next Thursday. If everything is okay then, I'll be released back to my OB and Dr. Bitchy.

The march for babies is tomorrow! Team Remarkable Robbie is just over 1500 dollars, which some more to go in tonight once I count it up. I sold candy at work, catered a lunch, and a coworker helped me with a couple of 50/50 pot shots to early extra cash. Several friends solicited coworkers and more friends and all in all, I think we made a decent showing to help save babies.

The weather is supposed to be nice in the morning, so I'm hoping we don't get rained on. And hoping we all hold out for the whole walk. David, Robbie & I all have cold, Robbie and me both have a cough with it. We're on the mend now, so hopefully we'll be okay.

It was enough of a cough to keep Robbie from his surgery on Wednesday, though. He was supposed to get a 2nd set of ear tubes & his adenoid removed. It's now been rescheduled for June 8. Blasted germs. Hope he can stay healthy for that one.

Anyway, as I said, it's been a crazy week, but hopefully once the march is done tomorrow, things will calm down again. Of course, then I have to plan Robbie's THIRD birthday. I can't believe he's going to be three, but here it comes.

Thanks to everyone who donated to our team. I'll get pictures up ASAP.

Trish

YES

2011-04-21T15:20:00.000-05:00

1 baby, measuring perfectly on track. Heart rate around 85.

Don't have time to type out a full recap now, but Dr. K is pleased. We go back in 1.5 weeks to have another look, then I will be released to my OB.

--Trish

Nerves

2011-04-20T00:20:00.001-05:00

Apparently Tuesdays are my freak out days. It was last Tuesday that I seriously considered calling my RE to see if she'd move my beta up to Wednesday because I wasn't sure I could take it any more. And really, as calm as I've been, today the nerves started to get to me again.

It wasn't helped by the fact that I realized I wasn't supposed to be eating a sandwich from Subway until after I'd eaten it. I completely spaced about the cold cut thing. I then spent a half an hour Googling symptoms of lysteriosis and seriously considering going to the bathroom and purging. (I didn't.) Anxiety disorders- WHEE!

After I managed to talk myself down, the panicked feeling still remained. Then on the way home, it was storming like I don't know what and I hydroplaned worse than I ever have before. It was that moment where you see barricades on the side of the road coming and think "Welp, this is it." Suddenly I actually hit another puddle with my left tires that sent me the other direction but that was away from the water so my wheels caught and I was fine. I'm pretty sure my heart is still racing a little, but I'm fine. My next thought was "hope the baby is okay."

It reminded me of the earthquake we had when I was pregnant with Robbie. Once the shaking was over, the first thing I did was grab the Doppler and make sure he was alright. I don't know why he wouldn't have been, but I was scared, and the first thing I needed to know was that my baby was okay. I was 20 weeks pregnant, but I still wasn't convinced I wasn't going to do something to hurt him. Little did I know that 6 short weeks later, my body would try to kill us both.

Today I'm only 5 weeks and 4 days pregnant, and I have way more evidence that my body can't be trusted than I did then. But I feel less panicked. I have no idea what Thursday will bring. I feel fine. My boobs hurt like whoa, but everything else is normal. No barfing, no food aversion, not even the regular dry heaves that I had with all three pregnancies before this. I'm not exceptionally tired, my back doesn't hurt. I've had a little bit of round ligament pain, but that's as close as I can come to feeling different. Maybe this is what a healthy pregnancy feels like? How would I know? Hopefully we'll know more on Thursday. But I'll only be 6 weeks then so even the absence of a heartbeat won't be definitive. It's early, I know that.

We haven't told our families yet. I don't exactly know why. It's not like I wouldn't want them to know if I miscarried again. Hell, everyone knows about our past losses. I'm as out of the closet as a person can get. I think mostly I worry about their reaction. I'm afraid my dad will be worried about my health more than excited about the baby. I couldn't fault him there. But I am excited and I want him to be, too. And my mother in law? Well, her reaction the last two pregnancies didn't even include a congratulations. It was "do you know if the baby is going to be okay?" When I told her I wouldn't know that until the baby was born (and ha! Turns out not even then!) she mostly just got quiet. It still makes me angry to think about it. And that's so hypocritical of me because even when I found out I was pregnant with Robbie, my own reaction was "well, we'll see." Apparently I'M allowed to be skeptical, but she's not. Which isn't fair, but that's how I feel anyway.

Tonight David asked if we should tell her this weekend (we will be seeing her). I said we'd see how Thursday went. I told him I was still a little hurt by her reaction the last two times. He didn't defend or agree with her. He just got quiet. After a long moment he sighed and said "I guess it's nice for some people to have normal pregnancies. But we'll never know that." It made me sad. David is the most hopeful, optimistic person I know, really. I said "Maybe this one." But he just shook his head in disbelief. Even he is disillusioned by our history. I added "yeah, even if this pregnancy goes perfectly, it won't be normal. Normal people don't have a team of specialists. They're not high risk from the start." We changed the subject.

Oddly, the conversation almost helped to settle my nerves. Perhaps it was just the outward speaking of our fears. Maybe it was just the reminder that we simply aren't in control. Or maybe it was just letting myself get a little angry at someone insinuating my baby might not make it. Whatever it was, I feel calmer tonight. Two more sleeps until we have a little more information. Maybe not an answer, but at least another hint.

--Trish

Double

2011-04-14T12:44:00.000-05:00

Second beta was this morning. Been a heaving ball of nerves all morning. I was hoping between 800 & 1200.

It's 1195! Doubling time: 41.66 hrs.

First u/s is a week from today. OMG.

Day by day

2011-04-13T01:03:00.000-05:00

My attempts at taking this pregnancy one day at a time are mostly working. You know, between freak outs, anyway.
Yesterday was a rough day. To be honest, I just don't feel pregnant. My boobs are sore and my period is late, but really, that's about it for symptoms. I've had a few waves of nausea but that could be anything from indigestion to over thinking. It's not that I want to feel like shit, it's just that I feel.. well.. good. And that's weird.

I considered called and asking to move my 2nd beta up by a day. Honestly, scheduling wise, it would be preferable not to do it on Thursday, but it's not that I can't, it's just that I won't work as much overtime that day. (Been working 12 hour days most days.) After I thought about it a while, and yeah, peed on another mystery stick (very positive), I talked myself back out of it.

The truth of the matter is that it doesn't matter what the beta shows. If it's bad, well, it's obviously bad. Nothing will change that. And even if it's good, well, that doesn't really matter either because I've had good betas that ended in dead babies before. I assume my first ultrasound will be in the days after Easter, but even if that looks good, that's not the all clear. I've seen heartbeats at 6.5 weeks before- three times. The first two times still ended before the 1st trimester was over.

And even if I get to 10 weeks or 12 or 20, I've never seen a 3rd trimester. I will not really breathe freely until a healthy baby is in my arms at home. I'm just not great at pregnancy. I guess not everyone can be. There is no blood test or pee stick that can tell me what tomorrow will bring. God did not promise any of us a tomorrow, so we better hold on to today.

Some days I can wake up and remind myself of that and be okay for the day, and some days I need to remind myself hourly. Today I am pregnant and I love my baby. I know how lucky I am to have today. Worrying constantly (I mean, I can worry a little sometimes, right?) about what might happen tomorrow is not honoring the blessing of pregnancy I have been given.So I'm taking a deep breath, and cherishing today. I know too well it might be all we have.

--Trish

P.S. A friend of mine gave birth to her son quite unexpectedly yesterday. She was exactly 29 weeks pregnant. Baby Tristan is doing as well as can be expected in the NICU, but could always use some extra prayers. And if you see preeclampsia running around, please aim for the neck. I'm out for blood.

Official #4.

2011-04-07T18:44:00.000-05:00

14dpo beta: 73

It's official. I wouldn't have minded seeing something closer to 100, but it's not out of the range of normal, and it's not like I have a day in it, so there it is. They don't want to do another for a week. A week feels like a year at this point, but again, I know that the frequency of testing isn't going to change the outcome, so I need to work on chilling out.

I used my last 4 pee sticks and told myself I was done. But when I went to the grocery store yesterday, I was already in line when I realized they would have tests and got out of line to go find them. However, it seems my local grocery store keeps the pregnancy tests back behind the pharmacy counter. Maybe the meth-heads make something out of those, too.

I debated whether or not it was worth talking to the pharmacist, but then when I was the 75 year old man at the counter asking a lot of questions, I decided no. Told myself it was fine. Until I got home.

Once I got home, though, suddenly I was the addict. I looked like an alcoholic looking for mouthwash with a little alcohol in it. I was rooting through drawers, cabinets, the baskets I keep supplies in the bathroom. There has to be one here somewhere. I found a foil pack marked http://www.early-pregnancy-tests.com/ and got really excited. Then I realized it was just another OPK.

I finally found a stash of test sticks, all marked ClearBlue Easy. I don't even know what they were. Some were fertility monitor sticks, others were digital OPKs. But there were some dark purple packets I couldn't identify. They expired 12/09. Whatthefuckever, I was peeing on something damn it! And I did. And it was positive, I guess. At least, there were two lines of pretty equal shading. If it were a pregnancy test, it was great. Even if it were an OPK, it would have been positive. I took that as a good sign. I felt my nerves settle. Then I laughed at myself and cleaned up the bathroom.

The tech who drew my blood today tried to explain the test to me. I just nodded and said not to worry, it was positive. She asked if I had tested, and I confirmed. Then she scolded me. "You're not supposed to do that." I was defensive. Actually they told me to test. As a matter of fact, the nurse gave me instructions if I tested early (call, but don't expect a beta until 14dpo.) I think she paid me back for my insolence by take 3 tries to find blood.

Hopefully by next Thursday she'll have forgotten my bad attitude. And hopefully I can old off the DTs until then. But if not, there were a few more of those mystery sticks....

--Trish

Here we go again...

2011-04-05T23:31:00.000-05:00

Welp, it would seem I'm pregnant again.
It's still unofficial as Dr. K won't do a beta until 14dpo, which is Thursday. But four tests agree.

I actually was dreaming I was pregnant yesterday morning, woke up and took a test. And then another to confirm.

It was sort of strange how calm I felt most of yesterday. I smiled, told Robbie he was going to be a big brother, then set about my normal morning. I ended up running all over town looking for a big brother shirt for Robbie to surprise David. I took the afternoon off and asked David to meet us for dinner. Changed Robbie quickly before we went.

Of course, David being Mr. Oblivious never did notice. I had to prod about his new shirt "Oh it's nice, where'd you get it." I just started laughing. He FINALLY got it and just grinned. We started planning right away. NOT something the old Trish would have done.

At one point the waitress asked if we had other children and we glanced at each other like "do we tell?!" and I did. She was so excited. You could tell she's definitely not infertile.

This morning I got up and took another. It was extremely, extremely light. I started to panic. Took another (last one in the drawer.) and it's about the same as yesterday. Maybe a little lighter. I spent about 45 minutes fighting back panic about a chemical pregnancy. In the end, I gained control of the anxiety. I know that what is to be is to be. This pregnancy is in God's hands and no matter how many sticks I pee on, that's not going to change.

I debated buying more tests today, but ultimately decided to wait for my Thursday beta. The RE's office did call me in some prometrium (hello gooey crotch. Oh how I've missed you.) and some folguard. Once it's official on Thursday, I'll call my OB & my high risk OB and see how they want to proceed.

I assume my first u/s will be the week after Easter. We just hope for ONE healthy baby. I did have two good follicles at my scan, so anything is possible.

So here we go again. Pregnancy #4. Can we get a baby #2?

--Trish

Speak To Me Saturday

2011-03-26T12:22:00.001-05:00

A quote I came across today, which spoke to me as I struggle between faith and fear.

“You block your dream when you allow your fear to grow bigger than your faith." - Mary Manin

--Trish

IUI #7

2011-03-24T10:27:00.000-05:00

The deal is done. 22 million sperm are now elbows & tripping their way up my fallopian tubes hoping to find an egg (or two. Eek!)

It went well. I slept poorly and woke early which is unlike me, but I think it was just nerves. Traffic was bad, but fortunately David went straight there while I took Robbie to daycare and since his portion was needed before I was, the timing worked out well.

I still don't just love her new nurse. I mean, she's nice enough, but just not the old nurse. She actually had the nerve to give me the "It just takes one" speech. I HATE THAT SPEECH. First of all, it's simply not true. Second of all, I know how this works, I don't nee the explanation. Lastly, well, it's not true! But whatever. Twenty two million is a great number, particularly for us. There was no pain at all. I laid there letting the swimmer find their way and David mostly grinned.

It really amazes me how bright and hopeful he is about all of this. He just smiled and asked what we were going to name the baby. I couldn't help but smile back. I wish I felt so unencombered by worry.

At this point I don't know if I'm more worried it won't work or that it will. I mean, if it works, then there comes the miscarriage worries, and what if it's twins (or more? OMG.), and then even if we managed to make it to the 2nd trimester with one baby- the point where most people start to breathe a little easier- my worry is just beginning. I never made it out of the 2nd trimester with Robbie. Preeclampsia. Prematurity. The NICU. There's just so much to worry about.

I'm trying very hard to stay distracted. If I find myself with a knot in my belly, trying to plan how we'll care for Robbie and a baby in the NICU, I stop and do something else. I know that worrying changes nothing. But I think the anxiety section of my brain is overdeveloped. I don't know how to just turn it off.

But there is hope, too. I had a vision of me delivering a full term baby, crying as I heard him cry for the first time in the delivery room. This morning when I dropped Robbie off at school, it was early. He was the only student from his room there, so they took him over to the infant room. I watched to see if you had any inesterest in the babies, hoping he'd decide he'd like a little brother or sister. He paid no attention at all, more excited by a room full of toys he's never played with. But at least he didn't cry.

Hoping that in 9 months (not 6, thank you) we'll see how he really feels about babies, but this time in his own house.

--Trish

Smiley Face

2011-03-23T12:54:00.000-05:00

Went in for my follie scan this morning. Leftie hurts like a b, but only had one measly 12.5 mm follicle to show for it. Rightie took the lead. Two nice ones, 18 & 21mm. I was in and out in under 15 minutes, awaiting a call with instructions to trigger tonight & IUI on Friday morning.

Came home, used an OPK and SURPRISE! Smiley face. As that's the third surge I've ever seen in in 5 years, I actually said out loud "WHOA! Oh boy!" and went running for the phone. Left a message for my husband and the clinic to advise that our timetable just moved up on its own.

I'm honestly relieved because I really felt like I was closer to Oing than I expected and was afraid we were going to be a day late. I guess I was right, but for once, the tests worked to save the cycle.

Of course, I'm a nervous wreck about 2 good follicles. We do not want twins. Not that I wouldn't love two babies, but risks go up and we're already pretty much maxed out on risk. But here we are.

Crossing our fingers and jumping.

Trish

Staying cool

2011-03-17T00:30:00.001-05:00

The cycle is under way. I'm only taking 25mg of Clomid, so I was expecting my side effects to be even easier than last time (and they weren't bad then.) They still aren't terrible, but I feel like a walking sauna. I guess it's a good sign that it's working, but not only am I having hot flashes, but I just generally feel hotter. I've been obsessively checking the thermostat, convinced it's been bumped upward somehow (despite being both eye level and digital), but no. That's just estrogen.

I have been playing chase-the-bureaucrat-by-phone game with the insurance company. Infertility coverage is mandated in the state of Illinois, and I confirmed all coverage at the beginning of the year, but when the pharmacy ran my trigger shot through, it came back denied. Of course, pharmacy benefits tells me to call the regular insurance who (after I trotted out my Angry Trish voice) tells me I need to call a specialty pharmacy who tells me to have the office call, and then they are told to fill out special paperwork which will then be sent to yet another pharmacy who will then (Hopefully!) fill the prescription. The good news is that supposedly if all of this happens correctly, it will actually be covered at 100%, which means I even get to save my expected co-pay. Thank goodness I don't need the shot until next week and have some time to play phone games.

Emotionally I've been okay. Well, okay, as long as you don't count that my temper is definitely short, which I'm blaming on Clomid both directly (hormonal rage) and indirectly (being hot all the time has lead to poor sleep.) It's helpful that work has been pretty crazy. It seems counter-intuitive, but the stress of work has actually helped because it gives me something to focus my hormonal rage on and keeps me distracted enough that I can't google preeclampsia recurrence rates repeatedly all day long.

I wanted to lose 20 pounds before we started cycling again. I've lost 25, and on a good week, closer to 30. (We did some traveling last weekend, which meant eating a lot of crap food, so it's closer to 25 again.) I'm still fat, but it's something. It's more than Dr. Bitchy asked for, and hopefully it can make a difference. It's the only risk factor I have any control over at all, so I'm doing what I can.

We appreciate any and all prayers for a nice, boring, regular-length pregnancy. And if you could pass me a cool rag, that would help, too.

Trish

P.S. Don't forget to donate to Team Remarkable Robbie. Our fundraising is off to a slow start and every dollar counts.

Let the games begin.

2011-03-10T00:48:00.000-06:00

Since we ended up not starting ART this month because of a pesky UTI (been clear for several weeks now, thanks for asking.) this was basically our last shot at conceiving on our own. Of course, we haven't prevented since Robbie's birth coming up on three years ago, so I figured the chances of that were nil, but since David had that SA that showed rock star sperm, I think hope seeped in a little.

And to be frank, I don't know what's going on lately, but we've been humping like bunnies. Well, at least by our standards. Maybe I'm hitting my sexual peak or something, I don't know. But neither of us are complaining. So.. you know.. hope, I had it.

Then 4 days after I ovulated this month, by boobs started hurting like whoa! I mean, bring tears to my eyes, cuss under my breath hurt when I took off my bra. They haven't hurt like that since I was pregnant. I started daydreaming about the big brother shirt I'd get for Robbie.

I started testing at 9dpo. I mean, there was some tests in my drawer burning a hole in my.....drawer? They NEEDED to be peed on. Of course, it was negative. As was this mornings. This morning, in fact, it was so negative that the test line was actually whiter than the rest of the test window. Hope is a bully. Today she pointed and laughed, "No, Trish, I mean REALLY negative." By this afternoon, I was already spotting.

Tomorrow should bring CD1, which means a call to the fertility clinic. And thus we begin. I informed David that I was preparing myself for ladybit prodding and he should prepare himself for hormonal rage attacks. He had the nerve to smile like he was looking forward to it, but then thought better and hugged me. I guess we're as ready as we'll ever be.

--Trish

Graduation

2011-03-03T23:45:00.000-06:00

For the first time since Robbie was 3 weeks adjusted, he has no therapists. None. Zip. Zero. Zilch. No more 3 mornings a week schedule shuffling, no waiting for late therapists. No more critical eyes picking apart everything he does, giving every quirk a diagnosis. Done.

Last week, his speech therapist scored his evaluation and informed me that at the age of 2.8 years, his receptive language was measuring 2.7 years and his expressive language was 2.8 years. In other words- caught up. Several weeks ago she had confessed that she didn't even know what to work on for feeding. While he still prefers some textures over others, there's nothing he can't or won't eat if he's in the right mood- just like a typical toddler.

His OT never discussed anything with me at all, but her reports home because increasingly obvious she was done, too. "Robbie no longer displays resistance to ____________."

I knew it was time to fly free, but I was still nervous. I asked for our developmental therapist to come out and do a global evaluation to be sure. I was sad when they told me she was out having surgery and then thrilled when she called to set up the appointment anyway. She was the first therapist who ever saw Robbie. She's also the mother of 5 children and has always seemed to have great expertise in her field as well as real, practical experience as a mom. She came on Monday.

He did score a little behind in a few areas. As good as his speech was, she wanted him to be conversing and asking questions more. He still won't jump on a solid surface and mostly parallel plays. But none of those were enough to cause her any alarm. She was amazed at the progress since she'd seen him 6 months ago. At that point, he still tended to tune everyone out, had 7 words, hyperventilated at bathtime and refused to touch any food softer than a piece of bread. Today he uses 3 and 4 and sometimes even 5 word sentences, strips & climbs into the tub asking for a "baff" and demands applesauce and just about anything else if he's in the right mood. She didn't score the evaluation on the spot, but told me her feeling was that he was doing amazing; that the skills he doesn't have are clearly emerging and she was very pleased.

Tuesday was our IFSP. It was the usual reading of assessments. The OT report was a bit of a surprise as she had him listed as not being able to do skills that he definitely has, but most of those were also addressed in the DT report and he had done them just fine for her.

When it was my turn to speak, I asked plainly "My desire is to end services. Does anyone have any concerns about that?" Everyone answered "absolutely not." His SLP said that even if I didn't want to end all services, she was going to discharge us- her work here was done. His DT said that any areas she felt he could use work in were already being addressed by his daycare and by me, and she felt like he was doing amazing. And that was that.

We hugged, I cried. I made cupcakes to celebrate, so we had cupcakes of celebration. And then they were gone.

As of Wednesday, March 2nd, 2011, my son is free to grow and develop like any other boy.

It may not be for good, I know that. He may have trouble in school, he may need some physical help at some point because he's small and wimpy. But for now, we're going to sleep late & laze about snuggling instead of rushing to meet therapists. It feels really good.

--Trish

Interesting

2011-02-23T13:55:00.000-06:00

A coworker of mine was chatting, today, about his girlfriend. She's going to be 30 next week and I guess it just hit her what a milestone it is. She woke up this morning feeling kind of down.

My coworker said he told her he understood that she probably wasn't where she expected to be at 30 - she thought she'd be married and pregnant by now. I thought that was very astute of him to pick up on. I was a little impressed.

Then he finished, "I told her we could fix both of those before she turns 30." When one of the women in the office looked at him funny, he insisted "We could fix them both. We've got 6 days!"

That must be an interesting world to live in.

--Trish

Let's march

2011-02-17T00:47:00.000-06:00

I don't know if I can say again how much the March of Dimes has meant to my family. There are only so many ways to say "They helped save our son's life." A few days after Robbie was born we were down visiting him in the NICU. I was still admitted to the hospital myself, but this was the first day I was able to walk (albeit slowly) down to see him. This particular day stands out very clearly in my mind. The NICU almost seemed to have a special glow that day. As we left the NICU to go back to my room, I remarked to David that I felt almost like I could see angel's wings on the backs of the nurses in the unit that day. They were literally doing God's work.

That is how I feel about the March of Dimes still. They are doing God's work. The research that they help fund has lead to breakthrough after breakthrough which has improved survival rates of babies born as early as Robbie, along with countless other accomplishments dating back to their original mission to cure polio.

That day in the NICU, I told David that if we hit the lottery, we were designating a large portion of money to the angels doing God's work. Unfortunately those winning lotto numbers are still eluding us. The next best thing I can think to do is to raise money. I'm not a public figure. We're not celebrities. We're just a regular family hoping to make a difference. The best way we know how to do that is to march. We are going to march for babies.

Team Remarkable Robbie is now seeking walkers and donors. Please join us as we seek to do God's work. Our march is April 30 in Forest Park, St. Louis, MO. We hope to see you there!

http://www.marchforbabies.com/remarkablerobbie

-Trish

Tests

2011-02-10T01:24:00.000-06:00

I had an interaction today that I'm still sort of processing through. I had to go to my PCP for an exam and tests. I've been fighting a stubborn UTI. I really like the nurse practitioner in the office, but she asked a question in a way that I get quite frequently. I'm never quite sure what to make of it.

Inevitably, someone asks a question which leads to me needing to tell them about Robbie's early birth. Today it was because of a discussion about my kidneys, obviously because of the possible implications of my bladder issues. She asks how early he was.

Me: 26 weeks
NP: Oh, that's early!
Me: Yes, quite.
NP: Was he in the hospital a long time?
Me: Yes, 96 days in the NICU, and a few stays beyond that.
NP: But he's good now?

And this is where I stumble a bit. This interaction happens probably at least monthly with one person or another. They never seem to ask "how is he doing now?" It's always "But he's good now?" or "But all is well now?" As though the only acceptable answer is yes. You would think that by now I'd know how to answer, but I don't.

I usually stutter "Yes! Well, I mean, he's getting there, but he's awesome.. yes.." They usually want to know why I qualify it, so I explain that he's had a lot of issues and we still struggle with feeding. They inevitably shrug dismissively or say something about kids not eating. I say yes, we hope to get rid of his G-tube soon. Perhaps I shouldn't add this, but I don't appreciate the dismissive tone. They look at me pointedly, realizing that when I say "issues" I mean issues.

And then they change the subject. Whether that is because the conversation has produced the information they sought or because the notion of issues made them uncomfortable is never quite clear.

I just don't quite understand why the question seems to always be seeking reassurance that all is well. I mean, I love our life and think Robbie's freaking awesome. But I also recognize that a tube-dependent 2.5 year old isn't exactly typical. I realize that a lot of people, even medical professionals, don't realize the impact of prematurity at the level we've experienced it. But it honestly doesn't matter. Sometimes kids struggle. It's not ideal, but it's reality. Whether it is prematurity, or a genetic condition, a trauma of some sort, a developmental disorder or something else, not every kid is "all well." And when the question is asked that way, I feel like it sets me up to disappoint them somehow. It makes me uncomfortable.

I can't even really qualify why that is. I mean, sometimes I'm disappointed. I wish Robbie was tube-free. I wish Robbie didn't have to have therapy 2 to 3 times a week. I wish he would outgrow this blasted corn allergy. I wish he was as physically adept as his peers. Sometimes when I'm directly confronted with one of his peers who is clearly light-years ahead of him in speech or another area, I am sad. I'm never disappointed in him, but the situation that has lead to this still gets me down occasionally.

Surely other people should be entitled to feel that, too. Logically, I know people want to hear the happy endings. I feel like we're living one. Or, maybe more of a happy journey, but I know it's a new kind of happy that most people have trouble imagining. But every time, I find myself leaving the interaction with a mental head scratch. Why do they ask this question? And did I answer it correctly? Did we pass our tests?

Trish

The plan is set

2011-02-04T11:17:00.000-06:00

Just had my phone consult with Dr. K. It took all of about 3 minutes, I think. It's official- 25mg Clomid/IUI.
I asked about the left side pain and she wasn't concerned. Basically as long as it stopped and I don't currently have pain, it's not a big deal. She did say my tubes were a little elevated, but not enough that she thought it would be a problem. But that in either case, she only wanted to do 3 rounds of Clomid/IUI and if I wasn't pregnant by then, she wanted to go to IVF, and that would bypass either issue.

So, we're good to go. Call when my period starts. Let the hot flashes begin.

--Trish

HSG: The Event

2011-02-01T01:58:00.000-06:00

I don't know what is wrong with me lately. My blog is so neglected. I THINK about writing every day, even sometimes thinking "oh, I should write that thought down" so that I write about it later. But then I don't. Maybe I need to do a 7 day challenge or something (write something every day for 7 days) to get the juices flowing. In any case, enough blogging about blogging.

The HSG

It was okay. It hurt, but I survived. I'd heard anything from "didn't feel a thing" to "I thought I was going to die" and even a few "I passed out"s. I didn't know quite what to expect.

I got up early, took Robbie to school, took my 800mg of Motrin as instructed and headed to the hospital. And then I waited. And waited. At an hour past my appointed time, I put my coat on the arm of the chair and nodded off. Heaven knows what the woman who came to get me thought, but I was tired.

Once in the room, a competent sounding radiology fellow came to tell me about the procedure. I mostly just nodded and tried not to chuckle at his pronunciation of vagina. "vag-ih-nuh." I should have counted how many times he said it. The whole thing struck me as absolutely comical. Of course, then he confirmed that I'd had an abortion. Pardon?

Now don't get me wrong, I know that a miscarriage is a spontaneous abortion, and I have never felt gutted by that term the way that a lot of people do. I understand why many miscarriage survivors do, it just has never affected me that way. I honestly didn't know if he had his facts wrong, or that's what he meant. I clarified that I've had 2 miscarriages. "Oh..uh.. mis....carriages, yes.." and then started talking about how they would look for scarring from my abortions. I can't say I appreciated it, technically correct or not. But the real fun was yet to begin.

They get me up on the table. I was expecting stirrups. Stirrups and I are BFFs, you know. But no. Just a table. So I had to bring my feet together and tilt my knees outward. I had knee surgery a few years ago and this was not the most comfortable position (never mind the whole naked vagihnuh thing.) but again, just go with it. The regular radiologist and the tech were both relaxed and sympathetic. But then the fellow came with the speculum. And by speculum, I mean the jaws of life that they had clearly borrowed from the local fire department.

Jimminy Christmas that hurt! As someone who has been through more examinations, probings & surgeries of my lady bits than I care to count, I can't say I had dreaded that part. Sure, it's never awesome, but this was definitely unexpected. I'm now convinced that my radiology fellow had never actually seen a vagihnuh before, either professionally or otherwise. The regular radiologist kept saying "no no, not like that." "no, not that wide." "here, move it this way." This is not a conversation that one wants to hear near her crotch. I focused on breathing through the pain while I was sterilized. Then came the expected cramp when the catheter was inserted. I've had enough IUIs that I was prepared for that.

They injected the dye- more cramps. Nothing I couldn't handle. Breathe in, breathe out. They asked me to roll to my right side to get a look at the tube. And that is when the real fun began. My LEFT side felt like it was going to revolt. I stifled a groan. Then roll to my left side. My left side was on fire! I couldn't stifled the groan that time. Now I just focused on not crying. And then it was over.

As soon as all their equipment was gone, the cramping began to ease. The radiologist said "everything looks good." but then stopped and told me not to leave until he'd viewed the films. I cleaned myself up and waited. He came out and said that everything looked "pretty good" but that he'd look closer at the films to check for scarring. "Pretty good," he said again. I didn't really know if pretty good mean actually good or okay-but-not-great. I just knew I was ready to go.

Dr. K left a voicemail that afternoon and clarified. "Completely normal." Both tubes were fine and my "cavity" was as well. I was to set up a phone consult and we'd go from there. That consult is on Friday. I assume we'll officially declare it 25mg Clomid & IUI and call it a day. I do intend to ask about the dramatic pain on my left side.

That left ovary has been cranky since I started fertility treatments in 2006. Or at least, I thought it was my ovary which was cranky. It hurts when they palpate it at my year exam. At one point, I stopped having periods right around the time I weaned from pumping for Robbie and my OB and I both thought perhaps I had a cyst. An ultrasound showed a small one, and a round of provera fixed it right up. But it still aches almost every month around ovulation time. But maybe it's something else? Maybe it's my tube? Maybe I'm just a paranoid neurotic hypochondriac, I don't know.

Either way, everything appears to be open and intact, so that is good news. Testing phase complete. Next step- treatments. Someone ready the Xanax.

--Trish