Doom

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

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

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

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

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