I don't know if any of you have the horrible commute out there, but I sure do. 65 miles one way during rush hour. In the morning it isn't so horrible but at the end of the day when I just want to get home it damn near kills me. Seriously rush hour can bring me to tears.
This is really the only reason I hate my job. I know it doesn't actually have anything to do with the job itself, but it's hard when I have that to look forward to everyday. I try to tell myself that I am just lucky to have a job that pays well and has decent benefits. There are so many people out there who are unemployed not by choice (my husband was one for almost two years) and that does suck so in no way am I trying to whine about it. I just wish I had more time. I only get to see my baby boy for a few hours a day and it makes me horribly sad. I just miss him so much. And I know exactly how precious the time we spend together is, I know how easily it can be taken away, and I hate that all this time is being stolen from me.+
I feel it is unfair to Eli as well, and also to the new baby that will be put in this situation. While he and I both love his sitter I just feel like someone else gets to raise my baby.
I know that things will work out and I am just doing what I have to do to help provide for my family. This is just not at all what I pictured our life would be like.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
I Am Annoyed.
I think my husband has been having some serious issues coming to grips with the fact that we are going to have another baby. He saw an empty tampon box yesterday and asked if I had gotten my period. Um, no, if I am bleeding it would be considered a miscarriage, not a period. He saw the picture of of the positive pregnancy test and had me explain every little thing, as if I had maybe read it wrong. I'm sorry, but I am absolutely pregnant, it is not going to change anytime soon barring any horrific circumstances. This is the exact opposite of the support I need right now.
I know men process differently. This isn't real to him right now, he doesn't have the side effects, he doesn't feel it, but I do and he should be able to at least understand that much. He flips and flops all the time, it drives me up the wall. Can't we get past the fact that I am actually pregnant now and move onto preparing? Yes, it makes me nervous, too. Yes, waiting a little longer would have been ideal, but this is not the end of the world. We'll be fine, we'll adjust, things will work out. I just need to shake him a little bit to get him to realize that.
On another note, I really want to take belly photos with this baby but since Eli was so huge and he stretched my stomach out so much I still have loose saggy skin. I don't really know what to do about this. I still have my previous baby pouch and I hate it. I think it was exacerbated by the fact that I ended up having a c-section and my incision had opened again and taken 2 months to heal so everything is sort of off kilter down there, that skin was not able to bounce back like it should have.
I don't know, what would you guys do? I'm sure I'll do it anyway just because I want the memory that I didn't get with Eli.
And I did decide to go ahead and start my baby blog, I think I will like to keep things separate in a way even though they will intertwine as being part of my life.
I know men process differently. This isn't real to him right now, he doesn't have the side effects, he doesn't feel it, but I do and he should be able to at least understand that much. He flips and flops all the time, it drives me up the wall. Can't we get past the fact that I am actually pregnant now and move onto preparing? Yes, it makes me nervous, too. Yes, waiting a little longer would have been ideal, but this is not the end of the world. We'll be fine, we'll adjust, things will work out. I just need to shake him a little bit to get him to realize that.
On another note, I really want to take belly photos with this baby but since Eli was so huge and he stretched my stomach out so much I still have loose saggy skin. I don't really know what to do about this. I still have my previous baby pouch and I hate it. I think it was exacerbated by the fact that I ended up having a c-section and my incision had opened again and taken 2 months to heal so everything is sort of off kilter down there, that skin was not able to bounce back like it should have.
I don't know, what would you guys do? I'm sure I'll do it anyway just because I want the memory that I didn't get with Eli.
And I did decide to go ahead and start my baby blog, I think I will like to keep things separate in a way even though they will intertwine as being part of my life.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Separate Blogs?
For those of you (my entire 4 person following now!) who blog, did you feel the need to start a separate blog for your pregnancy? As of right now I just feel like I need to separate it from the rest of my life, just to be able to handle it all. Two different events in two different places, right where they belong.
I hate that I feel the need to distance myself from this pregnancy, but there are multiple reasons why that I have actually been able to realize. The first one being the feeling of doom. Yes I know that sounds dramatic, ha ha. Unfortunately, as I have mentioned in some previous posts, I just feel like this baby's life (or lack there of) has already been decided and I will not be able to keep my child with me. This is obviously upsetting to me and I really don't like that I think that way. I am not willing to give up yet, though, I just feel like I need to brace myself a little bit in case the unthinkable happens (I guess in my case "unthinkable" is really not the right word, since it is all I think about). Another reason is that my husband is flip flopping about this baby. For the most part he seems fine with it (other than the obvious stressors like finance, time, etc) but every now and then he just does a complete 180 and freaks out. Not noticeably, mind you, but I notice. He gets insensitive and starts to take it out on me emotionally, and if I mention to him what he is doing he completely disagrees and starts an argument about it. He even went so far as to inform me the other day (while we were dtd and he happened to be on top of me) that I was to get my tubes tied when I am in the hospital with the next baby. I dutifully informed him that he doesn't get to make that decision for me, and that it wasn't happening either way. It just makes me feel like he is blaming me for what has happened, as if anyone needs to be blamed. Neither of us did this on purpose but we should be happy regardless. We are expanding our family as we had planned to, it's just happening a little sooner than we had wanted.
And twins. Oh how twins run in my family. What would happen, then? I can't stop thinking about this, either. I wish I could just shut my mind off and enjoy my pregnancy like I did with Eli. It was so perfect, we were so happy, it was exactly what we had tried so hard for for a year, and we finally succeeded.
I just need to remind myself that I was scared with Eli, too. It's a huge responsibility regardless of preparation. This time around we are better off financially, and I feel more prepared emotionally. I know what to expect (if everything goes according to plan and right now that's a pretty big pill for me to swallow) so I just have to keep reminding myself of the good points. Eli will have a sibling to be close with, delivery (not allowed to labor this time around :( doctors orders) will be much quicker and recovery will be as well. And as I have learned over the past year since Eli was born.....even when things seem black and I am filled with despair and sadness, I've always got my little chicken. He is there to give me smiles and kisses and hugs cuddles. Who wouldn't want two of that?
I hate that I feel the need to distance myself from this pregnancy, but there are multiple reasons why that I have actually been able to realize. The first one being the feeling of doom. Yes I know that sounds dramatic, ha ha. Unfortunately, as I have mentioned in some previous posts, I just feel like this baby's life (or lack there of) has already been decided and I will not be able to keep my child with me. This is obviously upsetting to me and I really don't like that I think that way. I am not willing to give up yet, though, I just feel like I need to brace myself a little bit in case the unthinkable happens (I guess in my case "unthinkable" is really not the right word, since it is all I think about). Another reason is that my husband is flip flopping about this baby. For the most part he seems fine with it (other than the obvious stressors like finance, time, etc) but every now and then he just does a complete 180 and freaks out. Not noticeably, mind you, but I notice. He gets insensitive and starts to take it out on me emotionally, and if I mention to him what he is doing he completely disagrees and starts an argument about it. He even went so far as to inform me the other day (while we were dtd and he happened to be on top of me) that I was to get my tubes tied when I am in the hospital with the next baby. I dutifully informed him that he doesn't get to make that decision for me, and that it wasn't happening either way. It just makes me feel like he is blaming me for what has happened, as if anyone needs to be blamed. Neither of us did this on purpose but we should be happy regardless. We are expanding our family as we had planned to, it's just happening a little sooner than we had wanted.
And twins. Oh how twins run in my family. What would happen, then? I can't stop thinking about this, either. I wish I could just shut my mind off and enjoy my pregnancy like I did with Eli. It was so perfect, we were so happy, it was exactly what we had tried so hard for for a year, and we finally succeeded.
I just need to remind myself that I was scared with Eli, too. It's a huge responsibility regardless of preparation. This time around we are better off financially, and I feel more prepared emotionally. I know what to expect (if everything goes according to plan and right now that's a pretty big pill for me to swallow) so I just have to keep reminding myself of the good points. Eli will have a sibling to be close with, delivery (not allowed to labor this time around :( doctors orders) will be much quicker and recovery will be as well. And as I have learned over the past year since Eli was born.....even when things seem black and I am filled with despair and sadness, I've always got my little chicken. He is there to give me smiles and kisses and hugs cuddles. Who wouldn't want two of that?
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Time for round 2
WARNING, PG TRIGGERS
Well, it has happened. I am pregnant with number 2, and number 1 is only a year. We knew it was a possibility, but it took a year for us to concieve Eli so we figured the odds were probably stacked against us this time as well. Except they weren't, ha ha. I'm on the verge of tears, have a ton of anxiety, but still have that excitement of knowing that in 9 loooooong months there will be another member of our family. As dh is away for business right now I had to tell him over the phone. I thought that maybe I had given him a heart attack, but he lives, albeit a little bit on a scared side and with a slight bout of nausea, ha ha. To say I was prepared for this would be stretching the truth. I knew there was a possibility of it only taking once, but I guess I had convinced myself that we would add our second when Eli was closer to three but now I'll have two under two. When the test turned this morning I immediately started freaking out and sounding off the list of how stupid we are to even have tried this soon, all the reason's we should have waited longer, etc. But now that I have had some time to calm down I just think about how my two sisters and I are all 18 months apart. We've had our share of knock down drag outs, but we are also pretty close. I guess I would be happy if Eli and his new sibling share that closeness as well.
But I'm also waiting to tell people who know me. I still have that fear that this baby is going to leave, and I don't want to have to explain to everyone what happened. Obviously I can't hide it forever, but I'll hide it as long as I can, or at least until I feel comfortable with the idea. I will probably tell my closest friends, my sisters and my mom but I would really like to keep it close-knit. And above all I am worried about judgement. If people start looking at me with disappointment and telling me everything I've already told myself I just will not be able to handle it. I need positive and I need support, not criticism right now. I already know we aren't in the idea situation for having another baby, but if we waited for that we would never have another kid. I also know that people have been in much worse situations and they are doing fine. I just need to remember that we are going to be able to do this, and that I had the same fears with Eli, and we still made it through and have a happy, healthy 1 year old.
So please, send me your positive energy, your prayers, your good chi, whatever it is you believe in. I could really use it right now.
Well, it has happened. I am pregnant with number 2, and number 1 is only a year. We knew it was a possibility, but it took a year for us to concieve Eli so we figured the odds were probably stacked against us this time as well. Except they weren't, ha ha. I'm on the verge of tears, have a ton of anxiety, but still have that excitement of knowing that in 9 loooooong months there will be another member of our family. As dh is away for business right now I had to tell him over the phone. I thought that maybe I had given him a heart attack, but he lives, albeit a little bit on a scared side and with a slight bout of nausea, ha ha. To say I was prepared for this would be stretching the truth. I knew there was a possibility of it only taking once, but I guess I had convinced myself that we would add our second when Eli was closer to three but now I'll have two under two. When the test turned this morning I immediately started freaking out and sounding off the list of how stupid we are to even have tried this soon, all the reason's we should have waited longer, etc. But now that I have had some time to calm down I just think about how my two sisters and I are all 18 months apart. We've had our share of knock down drag outs, but we are also pretty close. I guess I would be happy if Eli and his new sibling share that closeness as well.
But I'm also waiting to tell people who know me. I still have that fear that this baby is going to leave, and I don't want to have to explain to everyone what happened. Obviously I can't hide it forever, but I'll hide it as long as I can, or at least until I feel comfortable with the idea. I will probably tell my closest friends, my sisters and my mom but I would really like to keep it close-knit. And above all I am worried about judgement. If people start looking at me with disappointment and telling me everything I've already told myself I just will not be able to handle it. I need positive and I need support, not criticism right now. I already know we aren't in the idea situation for having another baby, but if we waited for that we would never have another kid. I also know that people have been in much worse situations and they are doing fine. I just need to remember that we are going to be able to do this, and that I had the same fears with Eli, and we still made it through and have a happy, healthy 1 year old.
So please, send me your positive energy, your prayers, your good chi, whatever it is you believe in. I could really use it right now.
Friday, July 15, 2011
Road Rage
It actually happened to me tonight, out of seemingly nowhere to me but to the other guy I apparently had it out for him. And because of this, he hit me. On purpose. Because, and I quote, "he had a bad day."
Really! I mean, really? I have a bad day everyday. On my drive to and from work, for the entire hour and a half to two hours (65 miles one way) all I can think about is how much I miss my baby because I never get to see him. I have to keep food on the table and a roof over our heads after my husband got laid off in December. I get yelled at all day long because I work in business collections and all those big fancy fortune 500 companies think they are better than everyone else and they don't need to pay their bills. I have bill collectors calling me because we are months behind in certain payments. Eli's sitter gets to see him more than I do, and I hate that. So you know what, dude, I don't care about your "bad day". You just hit me, on purpose, for something you thought you saw that didn't actually happen. Your apologies and excuses aren't going to fix the fact that it just cost me 350.00 to get my car towed a few miles, it isn't going to give me the three hours I just spent at the hospital back, it isn't going to make up the money I am losing from missing work since the doctor wants me off until the 22nd. All I could think about was how I was going to die because that is where a guy died last year after his car went off the road. I was so far off the road even the COPS couldn't find me.
Thank God there were witnesses, thank God that he saw fit to keep me on earth with my baby a little while longer, thank God my baby wasn't in that car when he hit me. Just thank GOD.
So please, I'm sure my entire following (all three of you lovely people) would never do something so callous and stupid, just think before you do something in anger. You just never know who and in what way those actions will affect. And hug your babes and loved ones tonight, you all deserve it.
Really! I mean, really? I have a bad day everyday. On my drive to and from work, for the entire hour and a half to two hours (65 miles one way) all I can think about is how much I miss my baby because I never get to see him. I have to keep food on the table and a roof over our heads after my husband got laid off in December. I get yelled at all day long because I work in business collections and all those big fancy fortune 500 companies think they are better than everyone else and they don't need to pay their bills. I have bill collectors calling me because we are months behind in certain payments. Eli's sitter gets to see him more than I do, and I hate that. So you know what, dude, I don't care about your "bad day". You just hit me, on purpose, for something you thought you saw that didn't actually happen. Your apologies and excuses aren't going to fix the fact that it just cost me 350.00 to get my car towed a few miles, it isn't going to give me the three hours I just spent at the hospital back, it isn't going to make up the money I am losing from missing work since the doctor wants me off until the 22nd. All I could think about was how I was going to die because that is where a guy died last year after his car went off the road. I was so far off the road even the COPS couldn't find me.
Thank God there were witnesses, thank God that he saw fit to keep me on earth with my baby a little while longer, thank God my baby wasn't in that car when he hit me. Just thank GOD.
So please, I'm sure my entire following (all three of you lovely people) would never do something so callous and stupid, just think before you do something in anger. You just never know who and in what way those actions will affect. And hug your babes and loved ones tonight, you all deserve it.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Just This and That
I haven't posted in a few days because things have been both busy and dull. Eli's first bday party was on the 9th and it was such a loooooooong day that ended with a complete meltdown by the birthday boy once we got home. Here is a picture of when he was not in such an angry mood:
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He did really have a fun time, it was just a long day and he missed out on his second nap. Couple that with him no longer sleeping through the night again and it makes for one crankasaurus rex.
Here are a few more pictures from the day:
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In other news, my husband is away for the week for work, will come back for the weekend, and be gone again next week for work. I'm just not used to him being gone all week and coming home to an empty house, it's been unnerving to me. At least I have my wonderful (super cranky) baby and my lovely (needy) dog and cat to keep my company. Also, my niece will be staying over a few nights this week to help me with the chicken (since he's been such a butt lately) and keep me company. Yes, I am so lonely that I need a 9 year old to keep me company, ha ha. I feel pretty good about myself.
So what's new with my avid (three) readers?
Here are a few more pictures from the day:
In other news, my husband is away for the week for work, will come back for the weekend, and be gone again next week for work. I'm just not used to him being gone all week and coming home to an empty house, it's been unnerving to me. At least I have my wonderful (super cranky) baby and my lovely (needy) dog and cat to keep my company. Also, my niece will be staying over a few nights this week to help me with the chicken (since he's been such a butt lately) and keep me company. Yes, I am so lonely that I need a 9 year old to keep me company, ha ha. I feel pretty good about myself.
So what's new with my avid (three) readers?
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
The 4th of July (a couple of days late)
I don't remember much of the 4th from last summer. I was 3 days post partum, 6th day in the hospital, and not feeling the best. I honestly don't know that I acknowledged the fact that it was the 4th last year, I'm pretty sure it was never brought up.
I had some pretty serious complications following my somewhat hastened c-section, so much of what I remember is kind of piecey and a little bit scatter brained. There are people I spoke to in the hospital that I don't remember except for very hazily, if at all. I had a lot of visitors, my husband's family is BIG and I have a few close friends that wanted to come see me and the new little one.
I was set to go home July 5th, they wanted to keep me for the full four days just to make sure I was up to par. On that fourth day is when everything started to go downhill.
I spiked a fever, and couldn't stop sweating (accompanied of course by the occasional bout of chills) and they decided to give me another dose of intravenous antibiotics. By the next morning my fever had gone down, but they had to keep me longer for observation.
I'm just going to list what I remember about what happened next, because as I said, it's not very reconciled in my head.
I spiked another fever, which worried the medical staff. I was to the point where I had so many blankets around me yet I still felt frozen, and I was soaked with sweat. I was taken for a CAT scan and had to drink vile liquid which meant I had to pump and dump for 48 hours. I was put on more antibiotics, given intravenous pain meds as the pain was intense, and kept on intravenous fluid since eating or drinking was out of the question. At some point I had to get a blood transfusion because my labs were really off, I didn't like that one bit. I wasn't sleeping because I was in too much pain, and too sick. I was treated for DVT (blood clots, potentially life threatening) with shots of Lovanox in my stomach four times daily.
And in all of this Eli decided he was going on a nursing strike, right away. I just remember sitting in the rocking chair one night, him on the boppy pillow, and both of us just wailing away out of frustration. The nurse came into the room and asked me if I was okay, all I could do was cry, "I just don't know what to do!"
I just wanted everything to be perfect, and nothing went right. I went in for a vaginal birth, and came out with 50 hours of labor to end in a c-section, with a side order of life threatening complications. But the one thing I cherish most of it all is my perfect, healthy boy. He was absolutely perfect, despite my rocky recovery, and for that I cannot be more thankful. He did eventually start nursing again, on the day we were released, Saturday, July 11th 2010 (a mere 13 days of being in the hospital.)
The first few days at home were okay, I had quite a few helpers taking care of things for me while I continued to recover and adjust to life as a mommy. Eli was a pretty easy going baby and gave me very little trouble. But after a couple of days I just felt wrong. I brought this up with my follow up physician but he just stated that it was normal healing after a c-section. The Thursday after I was released my mom came over to visit and pick up my niece (my little helper, she and Eli are like brother and sister.) I had asked her to look at my incision area to see if anything was wrong. It felt very swollen and hurt to the touch, and felt a little warm but only on the right side. She looked at it and said it definitely didn't look right. I gave a call to the doc, and they just told me that it was normal and should be fine.
At 3:00 am Thursday night (technically Friday morning) I had just finished feeding Eli, and was putting him down in his bassinet. As I was walking there I felt something drip down my leg. I figured it was milk (oh did I have milk) and put him down. When I looked down I saw that I had dripped blood. My first thought was to grab a tissue, it was probably just more bleeding post baby. By the time I had gotten to my bathroom the blood was coming in a steady stream and I realized it was coming from my abdomen. My incision had opened with a vengeance. As I stood in my bathroom trying in vain to control the blood that was pooling at my feet I tried to get my husband's attention (he was sleeping in the bedroom). After calling and calling to him I finally just started crying. I didn't know what to do, I didn't know what was wrong with me. All I knew is that there was uncontrollable bleeding and I was covered. He finally heard my cries and came to see what was wrong, and nearly had a heart attack. I can only imagine what it looked like to him. Me standing there, trying to feebly contain the blood that was flowing through my fingers, not moving because I didn't want to get it all over the place. He gathered the baby, called his mom to meet us in the ER. I threw a skirt on, held a bath towel to my abdomen, and asked him to bring my sandles to me so I didn't track blood all over our floors. We called ahead so they were prepared for us and they immediately brought us back.
They were in shock over the amount of blood, but they said it looked like old blood since it was dark and thick. They prepped me for transfer to another hospital more equipped to handle whatever was going on with me when the OB on call came in. After pushing and prodding and then sticking a wooden q-tip into my open incision as far as it would go to see how deep it was, they finally decided that it was just a hematoma from the Lovanox the finally built up enough pressure to burst. They gave me a prescription for (yet another) antibiotic, and then FINALLY asked me if I wanted some pain medication. Um, yes! I'm woman enough to admit that out of my whole two plus weeks of birth experience that was the only time I ever cried out of pain (and there was plenty of it) and I needed something, anything to take the pain down so I could think straight.
We went home, I got a little sleep. They decided to let my incision stay open to drain and since the opening was only in one layer they weren't too concerned. This was the beginning to yet another complication. My incision stayed open for weeks. It was leaking blood at first, then another spot opened in the middle of my incision which started leaking this pinkish/yellowish tinged fluid, and not in small amounts. All in all it took 8 full weeks for those wounds to finally close.
Due to my ordeal my doctor advised only repeat c-sections. I'm still torn on the issue. I know he's not just trying to push c-section on me, he is pretty against surgical intervention except when it is medically warranted, and he's got the lowest c-section rate in the entire hospital. Their take on what happened is because I was in labor for so long, and my water had broken, it had introduced bacteria into uterus which later caused infection. They have no real reason as to why I wouldn't progress. I was already a week and a half past due with no signs of going into labor anytime soon. The only real reason they could give me is that Eli was far too big to fit into the bony opening of my pelvis and therefore could not engage the birth canal and put pressure on my cervix, and without this my body just couldn't do it's job. It makes me nervous to go into a surgery when there is a chance it could not be needed, but that's an other post entirely.
So my mantra for my ruined birth plan and the loss of the experience of laboring to bring my child to this earth as it was meant to be is this: My baby is perfect, he is healthy, and every single thing I went through was to bring him into our family, and I did my job. I love that little boy with all my heart.
I had some pretty serious complications following my somewhat hastened c-section, so much of what I remember is kind of piecey and a little bit scatter brained. There are people I spoke to in the hospital that I don't remember except for very hazily, if at all. I had a lot of visitors, my husband's family is BIG and I have a few close friends that wanted to come see me and the new little one.
I was set to go home July 5th, they wanted to keep me for the full four days just to make sure I was up to par. On that fourth day is when everything started to go downhill.
I spiked a fever, and couldn't stop sweating (accompanied of course by the occasional bout of chills) and they decided to give me another dose of intravenous antibiotics. By the next morning my fever had gone down, but they had to keep me longer for observation.
I'm just going to list what I remember about what happened next, because as I said, it's not very reconciled in my head.
I spiked another fever, which worried the medical staff. I was to the point where I had so many blankets around me yet I still felt frozen, and I was soaked with sweat. I was taken for a CAT scan and had to drink vile liquid which meant I had to pump and dump for 48 hours. I was put on more antibiotics, given intravenous pain meds as the pain was intense, and kept on intravenous fluid since eating or drinking was out of the question. At some point I had to get a blood transfusion because my labs were really off, I didn't like that one bit. I wasn't sleeping because I was in too much pain, and too sick. I was treated for DVT (blood clots, potentially life threatening) with shots of Lovanox in my stomach four times daily.
And in all of this Eli decided he was going on a nursing strike, right away. I just remember sitting in the rocking chair one night, him on the boppy pillow, and both of us just wailing away out of frustration. The nurse came into the room and asked me if I was okay, all I could do was cry, "I just don't know what to do!"
I just wanted everything to be perfect, and nothing went right. I went in for a vaginal birth, and came out with 50 hours of labor to end in a c-section, with a side order of life threatening complications. But the one thing I cherish most of it all is my perfect, healthy boy. He was absolutely perfect, despite my rocky recovery, and for that I cannot be more thankful. He did eventually start nursing again, on the day we were released, Saturday, July 11th 2010 (a mere 13 days of being in the hospital.)
The first few days at home were okay, I had quite a few helpers taking care of things for me while I continued to recover and adjust to life as a mommy. Eli was a pretty easy going baby and gave me very little trouble. But after a couple of days I just felt wrong. I brought this up with my follow up physician but he just stated that it was normal healing after a c-section. The Thursday after I was released my mom came over to visit and pick up my niece (my little helper, she and Eli are like brother and sister.) I had asked her to look at my incision area to see if anything was wrong. It felt very swollen and hurt to the touch, and felt a little warm but only on the right side. She looked at it and said it definitely didn't look right. I gave a call to the doc, and they just told me that it was normal and should be fine.
At 3:00 am Thursday night (technically Friday morning) I had just finished feeding Eli, and was putting him down in his bassinet. As I was walking there I felt something drip down my leg. I figured it was milk (oh did I have milk) and put him down. When I looked down I saw that I had dripped blood. My first thought was to grab a tissue, it was probably just more bleeding post baby. By the time I had gotten to my bathroom the blood was coming in a steady stream and I realized it was coming from my abdomen. My incision had opened with a vengeance. As I stood in my bathroom trying in vain to control the blood that was pooling at my feet I tried to get my husband's attention (he was sleeping in the bedroom). After calling and calling to him I finally just started crying. I didn't know what to do, I didn't know what was wrong with me. All I knew is that there was uncontrollable bleeding and I was covered. He finally heard my cries and came to see what was wrong, and nearly had a heart attack. I can only imagine what it looked like to him. Me standing there, trying to feebly contain the blood that was flowing through my fingers, not moving because I didn't want to get it all over the place. He gathered the baby, called his mom to meet us in the ER. I threw a skirt on, held a bath towel to my abdomen, and asked him to bring my sandles to me so I didn't track blood all over our floors. We called ahead so they were prepared for us and they immediately brought us back.
They were in shock over the amount of blood, but they said it looked like old blood since it was dark and thick. They prepped me for transfer to another hospital more equipped to handle whatever was going on with me when the OB on call came in. After pushing and prodding and then sticking a wooden q-tip into my open incision as far as it would go to see how deep it was, they finally decided that it was just a hematoma from the Lovanox the finally built up enough pressure to burst. They gave me a prescription for (yet another) antibiotic, and then FINALLY asked me if I wanted some pain medication. Um, yes! I'm woman enough to admit that out of my whole two plus weeks of birth experience that was the only time I ever cried out of pain (and there was plenty of it) and I needed something, anything to take the pain down so I could think straight.
We went home, I got a little sleep. They decided to let my incision stay open to drain and since the opening was only in one layer they weren't too concerned. This was the beginning to yet another complication. My incision stayed open for weeks. It was leaking blood at first, then another spot opened in the middle of my incision which started leaking this pinkish/yellowish tinged fluid, and not in small amounts. All in all it took 8 full weeks for those wounds to finally close.
Due to my ordeal my doctor advised only repeat c-sections. I'm still torn on the issue. I know he's not just trying to push c-section on me, he is pretty against surgical intervention except when it is medically warranted, and he's got the lowest c-section rate in the entire hospital. Their take on what happened is because I was in labor for so long, and my water had broken, it had introduced bacteria into uterus which later caused infection. They have no real reason as to why I wouldn't progress. I was already a week and a half past due with no signs of going into labor anytime soon. The only real reason they could give me is that Eli was far too big to fit into the bony opening of my pelvis and therefore could not engage the birth canal and put pressure on my cervix, and without this my body just couldn't do it's job. It makes me nervous to go into a surgery when there is a chance it could not be needed, but that's an other post entirely.
So my mantra for my ruined birth plan and the loss of the experience of laboring to bring my child to this earth as it was meant to be is this: My baby is perfect, he is healthy, and every single thing I went through was to bring him into our family, and I did my job. I love that little boy with all my heart.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
The Dream
This post is going to contain major TRIGGERS so just a word of warning to those of you struggling with child loss right now.
A couple of posts back I had mentioned a huge fear of mine. Well last night I had a dream:
I was pregnant and going in for a typical checkup at 23 weeks. No problems with the pregnancy, it was going swimmingly as a matter of fact. Then everything went downhill.
I'm not sure exactly what the health issue was, possibly HELLP Syndrome or something along those lines, but they told me that I needed to deliver my baby NOW. I just kept telling them "no, I can't, I'm only 23 weeks along, the baby isn't viable until 24, my baby will die, I can't let you do that, can we please just try to wait for as long as possible?" They agreed to admit me to L&D and keep a close eye on me with the stipulation that if it all went downhill I was to have a c-section immediately. I of course agreed, anything to save my baby.
Well a few days before the 24 week mark it happened. They needed to get the baby out or I was going to die. I wanted so much to say "no, I'll hold on as long as I can as long as you save my baby." Of course that's not how it works. I had my husband, I had my boy at home, this needed to be done and I had to go with it.
They took her from me. I hadn't known if she was a boy or a girl until she was born, we hadn't gotten that far yet. They wrapped her up for me and I got to hold her and her kiss her and tell her how much I loved her. She held on for a few minutes, I watched her beautiful chest rise and her heart beat until it just didn't anymore.
I willed her to breathe again. Come on little girl, you can do it, just breathe for mommy. I love you, I can't live without you. You're perfect, please just breathe. I was crying, kissing her perfect little nose. She looked just like me. It wasn't fair.
Eventually I had to give her up. She was gone, and she wasn't coming back, and I couldn't do anything about it. I had her cremated so she could be close to me always, no matter where I go.
The emotional pain was worse than I had ever endured. Someone had just ripped my heart out of my chest, but I was expected to keep living, it's not fair. Why did this have to happen to my little girl?
I woke up and this dream is still with me, it's so vivid and real, and not something I will soon forget, which brings me to the previous post.
When I think about my future children I can only imagine boys, which I am okay with. I wouldn't mind a girl, but I love Eli so much that I'd be okay with having another little man critter running around. This dream makes me think that I am not meant to have a girl, and if I end up being pregnant with a girl I will lose her. So my fear has morphed to fit my crazy subconscious. And truly, I know how crazy I sound, and I know a lot of my fears and completely unfounded but that doesn't change the fact that my brain finds them very real, indeed.
So today I remember that sweet little baby girl. Even though you were only in my dreams, I love you fiercely and will not forget your perfect little face.
A couple of posts back I had mentioned a huge fear of mine. Well last night I had a dream:
I was pregnant and going in for a typical checkup at 23 weeks. No problems with the pregnancy, it was going swimmingly as a matter of fact. Then everything went downhill.
I'm not sure exactly what the health issue was, possibly HELLP Syndrome or something along those lines, but they told me that I needed to deliver my baby NOW. I just kept telling them "no, I can't, I'm only 23 weeks along, the baby isn't viable until 24, my baby will die, I can't let you do that, can we please just try to wait for as long as possible?" They agreed to admit me to L&D and keep a close eye on me with the stipulation that if it all went downhill I was to have a c-section immediately. I of course agreed, anything to save my baby.
Well a few days before the 24 week mark it happened. They needed to get the baby out or I was going to die. I wanted so much to say "no, I'll hold on as long as I can as long as you save my baby." Of course that's not how it works. I had my husband, I had my boy at home, this needed to be done and I had to go with it.
They took her from me. I hadn't known if she was a boy or a girl until she was born, we hadn't gotten that far yet. They wrapped her up for me and I got to hold her and her kiss her and tell her how much I loved her. She held on for a few minutes, I watched her beautiful chest rise and her heart beat until it just didn't anymore.
I willed her to breathe again. Come on little girl, you can do it, just breathe for mommy. I love you, I can't live without you. You're perfect, please just breathe. I was crying, kissing her perfect little nose. She looked just like me. It wasn't fair.
Eventually I had to give her up. She was gone, and she wasn't coming back, and I couldn't do anything about it. I had her cremated so she could be close to me always, no matter where I go.
The emotional pain was worse than I had ever endured. Someone had just ripped my heart out of my chest, but I was expected to keep living, it's not fair. Why did this have to happen to my little girl?
I woke up and this dream is still with me, it's so vivid and real, and not something I will soon forget, which brings me to the previous post.
When I think about my future children I can only imagine boys, which I am okay with. I wouldn't mind a girl, but I love Eli so much that I'd be okay with having another little man critter running around. This dream makes me think that I am not meant to have a girl, and if I end up being pregnant with a girl I will lose her. So my fear has morphed to fit my crazy subconscious. And truly, I know how crazy I sound, and I know a lot of my fears and completely unfounded but that doesn't change the fact that my brain finds them very real, indeed.
So today I remember that sweet little baby girl. Even though you were only in my dreams, I love you fiercely and will not forget your perfect little face.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Changes.
This is probably going to be a short one, but an important one for me.
After the loss of my friend's baby in February I've had a complete overhaul in my way of thinking. It's amazing how something like that can put everything into perspective. I started realizing how little my petty complaints were. Ugh, I hate my commute (at least I have a good paying job and can provide for my family), I wish my husband would spend more time with the baby (at least my baby is alive, healthy, and happy and my family is intact), why couldn't I have a normal birth experience (again, at least my baby was born alive and healthy.) And Facebook? I can't even start to tell you how easily annoyed I get with everyone on there. I'll admit that before I was definitely part of that crowd, whining about every little thing in life that didn't go my way. And now I can barely go on there. I skim my news feed for people I can bear to read about.
But I've also come to realize that however petty I find people's complaints, it's all relative. For their lives, maybe it is that big of a deal. I have to remind myself of this, because I don't want to become so cynical that I become completely detatched from humanity. I've been trying to go in the opposite direction.
I guess I'm not really going anywhere with this other than to remind everyone to be thankful for what the have, for every little blessing in their lives, because we just never really know when thing might change us forever. So love your husband/wife, love your children, love your family, and love other people. They might just really need it.
After the loss of my friend's baby in February I've had a complete overhaul in my way of thinking. It's amazing how something like that can put everything into perspective. I started realizing how little my petty complaints were. Ugh, I hate my commute (at least I have a good paying job and can provide for my family), I wish my husband would spend more time with the baby (at least my baby is alive, healthy, and happy and my family is intact), why couldn't I have a normal birth experience (again, at least my baby was born alive and healthy.) And Facebook? I can't even start to tell you how easily annoyed I get with everyone on there. I'll admit that before I was definitely part of that crowd, whining about every little thing in life that didn't go my way. And now I can barely go on there. I skim my news feed for people I can bear to read about.
But I've also come to realize that however petty I find people's complaints, it's all relative. For their lives, maybe it is that big of a deal. I have to remind myself of this, because I don't want to become so cynical that I become completely detatched from humanity. I've been trying to go in the opposite direction.
I guess I'm not really going anywhere with this other than to remind everyone to be thankful for what the have, for every little blessing in their lives, because we just never really know when thing might change us forever. So love your husband/wife, love your children, love your family, and love other people. They might just really need it.
Friday, July 1, 2011
One Year.
This day last year:
I was up early, 5:30 am. Not a lot of sleep the night before, strong contractions that felt like someone was stabbing me in the abdomen, nurse checks every hour or two, a little relief here or there with pain meds. The doc was there at 6 am to administer some stronger drugs for my cervix again, to see if it would help at all. I hadn't progressed very much, maybe effaced just a tiny bit, no more dilation, and the contractions were still very sporadic.
I hadn't eaten since yesterday mid morning since I missed the cut off for dinner (jerks never called me back to take my order), so I had some breakfast. My wonderful older sister came went on a run to Caribou for me (I was in labor, I was exhausted, I needed some damn coffee!) Six more hours of waiting. We watched tv, chatted, I had many unexpected visitors (which was a little awkward considering how many times the nurses had to check my 'progress'), and basically I was just trying to bide my time until noon came since the meds had to stay in there for 6 hours. Finally the time came.
I had dilated to 3 1/2, maybe 4 whole cm's! That's sarcasm. After almost two days of labor I was expecting a whole lot more of my body. I was started to get frustrated. The doc then decided it was time to break my water. At that moment I wanted to stop everything, ha ha. I was freaking out! I'm not ready! Let's wait some more! So they broke my water. It was disgusting. A huge gush of liquid, sort of like peeing your pants if your bladder could hold, oh I don't know, a liter of thick nasty water. Then they changed my puppy pad (when you're in labor they put under you this disposable pad with a thin plastic bottom to keep your sheets clean of all the grossness that occurs whilst pushing out a tiny person.) Okay, that part is done, I'm preparing myself for the quickened labor, the stronger more frequent contractions.
Everyone says that once your water is broken it all goes very quickly. They asked me if I wanted an epidural, and I said that I eventually did, but I wanted to wait as long as I could. They usually don't administer epi's until you are at least 4 cm dilated anyway. So I waited. And waited more. Slight contractions, but nothing nearly unbearable, and as always, sporadic. I got up to go to the bathroom and leaked a nice trail of amniotic fluid the entire way there and back. Talk about leaving a trail, eh?
At about 5 or 6 that evening, after checking me, I hadn't changed at all. No more dilation, no effacing, my body and my baby were refusing to cooperate. The anesthetician was not busy at the moment, and they highly recommended me getting the epidural now since he was available, so I agreed. There had also been the talk of a c-section (not what I wanted to hear) so really this was the best course of action 'in case'. The epidural sucked. They had to do mine at least two times. And it wasn't really the epidural so much as the lidocaine they put in you first, that felt like razor blades being pulled down my spine. So finally, epidural in, catheter in, I had no choice but to lay back, try to relax, and focus on bringing my baby into the world.
The doc came in around 7:30. I was to have a c-section he told me. NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!! The possibility had been discussed before in my later appointments with my doc, and after 48 hours of labor with no progress, they needed to get Eli out of there safely. I understood this, but I had gone through so much to try to have him normally, I needed that experience, I was upset. My c-section was set up for 9 that night, in an hour and a half I was to become a mom. Not in the way I intended, but my baby would be safe and sound in my arms (eventually.)
They prepped me for the surgery (I had never had any surgery before this, in fact I've been incredibly healthy my entire life. can we say scared crapless?), gave me my cute little cap (seen below in one of the posts, that's me getting ready to be wheeled into the O.R.), upped my epidural so I had no feeling, and explained what was going to happen.
This is not what I had planned. I was supposed to get induced and with much screaming and pooping on the table my baby was going to squish out of me and start screaming because of what he just endured. He wasn't supposed to be cut out of my stomach (though it was probably less traumatic for him.)
It was time. I was wheeled down to the OR. When we got there they had to move me to the operating table. I, of course, couldn't move any of my lower body because of the epidural so they moved the entire sheet over (jeez, just thinking about them having to life all 245 lbs of my super pregnant disgusting self makes me cringe) and then pulled it out from under me. I remember it was very cold in there and one of my legs kept falling off the table because I was a little lopsided on the table. I couldn't stop laughing because I felt RIDICULOUS! I mean, there I am, in all my sweaty disgusting numb glory, legs all over, arms being strapped out straight to my sides (like a cross) and shaking SO HARD. I asked one of the techs if this was normal (I seriously looked like I was doing it on purpose, my hands wouldn't stop flopping around) and they said that it was, it was the epidural in my system, and that was okay. They put the sheet up, and put some nice warm air blowing on my upper body. Oh, God, it felt good. They asked me to tell them if I felt anything. I said, I feel pressure, but no pain. From what Aron told me (he got to watch) they were actually cutting me open at that point, glad I didn't feel anything, ha ha. I felt lots of tugging and pulling. Almost like when your legs falls asleep without you noticing, but when you can touch it you still feel the pressure, just not the actual tough. They had to push down on my stomach to get Eli low enough that they could even grab him and pull him out. I remember the feeling of when they finally got him out of me, one huge tug and then I felt lighter.
(This next part I have some memory of, and some of it I've had to piece together from different people's accounts.) I didn't hear him cry at first, it scared the crap out of me. And then one big wail, and that was about it. They started working on putting me back together and Aron went over to look at the baby. They got him wiped up and brought him over to see me. I couldn't do much more than just look at him and smile, and give him a tiny kiss (I was still strapped down at this point) and have some little tears of happieness, but I'll never forget seeing him for the first time. He was (and still is) perfect.
They told me that they were going to give me something to calm me down, just a mild sedative. I asked if they were going to put me out and they said no, the sedative is just to calm me down and help me relax. They put it in my iv and I did get slightly drowsy, but that was it. They told me that they had started to stitch me up, so I was just waiting until I got to hold my baby. That is the last thing I remember. (They later told me that when they were stitching me up my epi had worn off and I could feel it all, so they put me out. When that happened my heartrate plummeted and they had to shoot me up with epinephrine.)
I woke up on the way to the recovery room, and I think I told them that they weren't supposed to put me out. I was in excruciating pain, I didn't know what was going on, everything was very dim, including the room I was placed in. Once I was in the recovery room I remember asking them (pretty vehemently) if I could have something for the pain, because I can feel everything. They gave me a couple of shots of morphine, and I waiting for sweet relief. Instead I start to burn. My flesh felt like it was melting off, and the pain was so intense that it was all I could do to squeak out that it was not good. Eventually they hooked me back up to the epi maching and I finally got some relief. I was exhausted, and I wanted my baby. Once I was feeling a little better Aron came in with my baby, and I held him, and started nursing him. It was so natural, I was in love. My mom and my niece came in, my niece held my hand and stroked my arm and told me that I would feel better soon, but that she had to see me and the baby before she went home (she was 8, such a sweet girl). I said goodbye to them, and just stared at my beautiful baby.
Eventually I got wheeled back to my room. They hooked me up again to the epi pump so I could get some rest, which I was very thankful for. The nurses were awesome, they helped me out so much with Eli, brought him to me when he needed to be fed, changed him for me, rocked him, all the things I couldn't do while I was confined to the bed. He was finally here, we had our baby.
This time this year:
Today is Eli's first birthday and I just can't believe it. Such a big boy. Walking (trying to run), laughing, playing with the animals, trying to talk. Just the sweetest little guy a mom could ever want.
Pictures of the birthday boy this morning:
I was up early, 5:30 am. Not a lot of sleep the night before, strong contractions that felt like someone was stabbing me in the abdomen, nurse checks every hour or two, a little relief here or there with pain meds. The doc was there at 6 am to administer some stronger drugs for my cervix again, to see if it would help at all. I hadn't progressed very much, maybe effaced just a tiny bit, no more dilation, and the contractions were still very sporadic.
I hadn't eaten since yesterday mid morning since I missed the cut off for dinner (jerks never called me back to take my order), so I had some breakfast. My wonderful older sister came went on a run to Caribou for me (I was in labor, I was exhausted, I needed some damn coffee!) Six more hours of waiting. We watched tv, chatted, I had many unexpected visitors (which was a little awkward considering how many times the nurses had to check my 'progress'), and basically I was just trying to bide my time until noon came since the meds had to stay in there for 6 hours. Finally the time came.
I had dilated to 3 1/2, maybe 4 whole cm's! That's sarcasm. After almost two days of labor I was expecting a whole lot more of my body. I was started to get frustrated. The doc then decided it was time to break my water. At that moment I wanted to stop everything, ha ha. I was freaking out! I'm not ready! Let's wait some more! So they broke my water. It was disgusting. A huge gush of liquid, sort of like peeing your pants if your bladder could hold, oh I don't know, a liter of thick nasty water. Then they changed my puppy pad (when you're in labor they put under you this disposable pad with a thin plastic bottom to keep your sheets clean of all the grossness that occurs whilst pushing out a tiny person.) Okay, that part is done, I'm preparing myself for the quickened labor, the stronger more frequent contractions.
Everyone says that once your water is broken it all goes very quickly. They asked me if I wanted an epidural, and I said that I eventually did, but I wanted to wait as long as I could. They usually don't administer epi's until you are at least 4 cm dilated anyway. So I waited. And waited more. Slight contractions, but nothing nearly unbearable, and as always, sporadic. I got up to go to the bathroom and leaked a nice trail of amniotic fluid the entire way there and back. Talk about leaving a trail, eh?
At about 5 or 6 that evening, after checking me, I hadn't changed at all. No more dilation, no effacing, my body and my baby were refusing to cooperate. The anesthetician was not busy at the moment, and they highly recommended me getting the epidural now since he was available, so I agreed. There had also been the talk of a c-section (not what I wanted to hear) so really this was the best course of action 'in case'. The epidural sucked. They had to do mine at least two times. And it wasn't really the epidural so much as the lidocaine they put in you first, that felt like razor blades being pulled down my spine. So finally, epidural in, catheter in, I had no choice but to lay back, try to relax, and focus on bringing my baby into the world.
The doc came in around 7:30. I was to have a c-section he told me. NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!! The possibility had been discussed before in my later appointments with my doc, and after 48 hours of labor with no progress, they needed to get Eli out of there safely. I understood this, but I had gone through so much to try to have him normally, I needed that experience, I was upset. My c-section was set up for 9 that night, in an hour and a half I was to become a mom. Not in the way I intended, but my baby would be safe and sound in my arms (eventually.)
They prepped me for the surgery (I had never had any surgery before this, in fact I've been incredibly healthy my entire life. can we say scared crapless?), gave me my cute little cap (seen below in one of the posts, that's me getting ready to be wheeled into the O.R.), upped my epidural so I had no feeling, and explained what was going to happen.
This is not what I had planned. I was supposed to get induced and with much screaming and pooping on the table my baby was going to squish out of me and start screaming because of what he just endured. He wasn't supposed to be cut out of my stomach (though it was probably less traumatic for him.)
It was time. I was wheeled down to the OR. When we got there they had to move me to the operating table. I, of course, couldn't move any of my lower body because of the epidural so they moved the entire sheet over (jeez, just thinking about them having to life all 245 lbs of my super pregnant disgusting self makes me cringe) and then pulled it out from under me. I remember it was very cold in there and one of my legs kept falling off the table because I was a little lopsided on the table. I couldn't stop laughing because I felt RIDICULOUS! I mean, there I am, in all my sweaty disgusting numb glory, legs all over, arms being strapped out straight to my sides (like a cross) and shaking SO HARD. I asked one of the techs if this was normal (I seriously looked like I was doing it on purpose, my hands wouldn't stop flopping around) and they said that it was, it was the epidural in my system, and that was okay. They put the sheet up, and put some nice warm air blowing on my upper body. Oh, God, it felt good. They asked me to tell them if I felt anything. I said, I feel pressure, but no pain. From what Aron told me (he got to watch) they were actually cutting me open at that point, glad I didn't feel anything, ha ha. I felt lots of tugging and pulling. Almost like when your legs falls asleep without you noticing, but when you can touch it you still feel the pressure, just not the actual tough. They had to push down on my stomach to get Eli low enough that they could even grab him and pull him out. I remember the feeling of when they finally got him out of me, one huge tug and then I felt lighter.
(This next part I have some memory of, and some of it I've had to piece together from different people's accounts.) I didn't hear him cry at first, it scared the crap out of me. And then one big wail, and that was about it. They started working on putting me back together and Aron went over to look at the baby. They got him wiped up and brought him over to see me. I couldn't do much more than just look at him and smile, and give him a tiny kiss (I was still strapped down at this point) and have some little tears of happieness, but I'll never forget seeing him for the first time. He was (and still is) perfect.
They told me that they were going to give me something to calm me down, just a mild sedative. I asked if they were going to put me out and they said no, the sedative is just to calm me down and help me relax. They put it in my iv and I did get slightly drowsy, but that was it. They told me that they had started to stitch me up, so I was just waiting until I got to hold my baby. That is the last thing I remember. (They later told me that when they were stitching me up my epi had worn off and I could feel it all, so they put me out. When that happened my heartrate plummeted and they had to shoot me up with epinephrine.)
I woke up on the way to the recovery room, and I think I told them that they weren't supposed to put me out. I was in excruciating pain, I didn't know what was going on, everything was very dim, including the room I was placed in. Once I was in the recovery room I remember asking them (pretty vehemently) if I could have something for the pain, because I can feel everything. They gave me a couple of shots of morphine, and I waiting for sweet relief. Instead I start to burn. My flesh felt like it was melting off, and the pain was so intense that it was all I could do to squeak out that it was not good. Eventually they hooked me back up to the epi maching and I finally got some relief. I was exhausted, and I wanted my baby. Once I was feeling a little better Aron came in with my baby, and I held him, and started nursing him. It was so natural, I was in love. My mom and my niece came in, my niece held my hand and stroked my arm and told me that I would feel better soon, but that she had to see me and the baby before she went home (she was 8, such a sweet girl). I said goodbye to them, and just stared at my beautiful baby.
Eventually I got wheeled back to my room. They hooked me up again to the epi pump so I could get some rest, which I was very thankful for. The nurses were awesome, they helped me out so much with Eli, brought him to me when he needed to be fed, changed him for me, rocked him, all the things I couldn't do while I was confined to the bed. He was finally here, we had our baby.
This time this year:
Today is Eli's first birthday and I just can't believe it. Such a big boy. Walking (trying to run), laughing, playing with the animals, trying to talk. Just the sweetest little guy a mom could ever want.
Pictures of the birthday boy this morning:
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