22 weeks, 2 days
We went through genetic counseling at the NJ Perinatal Association at around week 16. The genetic counselor asked us about our health and that of our families. My family is fairly healthy as far as genetic defects go. Griffin's family had very little that was noteworthy as well. Despite my 'advanced age' it seemed like we have very little chance of having a baby with any genetically inherited defects.
I am one of the healthiest people I know. I have never suffered from allergies, in fact I only started getting poison ivy when I was 31. It was a shock to me to have these itchy, red bumps on my hand after spending the day weeding in our yard. This was a week before we were going to get married and my fingers swelled so much that it was a bit of a struggle to get my wedding ring on at the ceremony. (On the other hand, my brother can get poison ivy if he sees a photo of it in a gardening magazine.)
I rarely get sick anymore: mostly just the sniffles every September when I return to work, but that's about it. High schools are very germy places and teaching computer graphics means I end up touching equipment that sick, snotty kids were touching. Other than that, I tend to stay healthy all year.
I have low blood pressure, a strong heart, the only operations I have ever had were getting my wisdom teeth taken out and the four D&C's. When I fill out the questionnaire you get when you go to a new doctor, I hardly read the 'do you suffer from' categories as I check no, no, no, no all the way down the line.
So, it really came as a shock to me when I remembered one night that I am carrying around a genetic defect. We were watching a DVD of Nip/Tuck when it hit me. One of the characters was having a child with ectrodactyly, otherwise known as lobster claw syndrome. It's a disorder that affects the hands and feet whereby the digits are either missing or fused, creating a claw-like appearance. Griffin and I chatted during the show about it, nothing of consequence.
Then the topic of my cute, little toes came up. I love my feet. They are, in my opinion, some of the most attractive female feet I have ever seen. My toes are cute, not long and monkey-like. I have friends whose feet look like an extra set of hands. I swear they could toss pasta salad and cut tomatoes with them. That is just freaky!
My toes are cute and small looking because I have syndactyly, in other words, I have webbed toes. My second and third toes on both feet are webbed 2/3 the way up. The bones are not fused, just the skin. It makes for very petite looking toes. Most people don't notice them unless I point it out, including the few women who have given me pedicures.
Specifically, what I have is syndactyly type I. It is a genetically inherited disorder. The gene that carries it is a dominant, non-sex related gene. This means that Piper has a 50% chance of having it too. It can affect the feet or hands or both. It is usually the ring and middle fingers that are fused on the hand and second and third toes on the foot. So, would I care if she have two toes fused like her momma? No, of course not. I love my toes. Would I care if she had two fused fingers? Well, yes.
I guess at this point we will not know if she has it until she is born. My parents never made a big deal of it in me. In fact, if my memory serves me, I don't think my parents even knew I had it until I pointed it out to them. I wanted to know when I would get "my toes cut apart like everyone else's". I think I was real little at the time, about five or so. I distinctly remember asking my mother that. She looked at my toes and told me there was nothing wrong with them. I don't think she was really looking at them. I just assumed everyone had been born with toes attached together, since I had never seen anyone else with my kind of toes, and that at some point everyone had them cut apart. It didn't occur to me that I could be different from everyone else.
As I grew up, I learned to love my toes for their weirdness. When you are a teenager you spend a lot of time talking about what makes you freaky or different. Most people had minor things like claiming to be double-jointed or that they could lick their nose. But, when I whipped out my webbed toes, I got respect! Or something like that. I was extra-freaky, which went a long way in the crowd I ran with. Weird = good.
As an adult, I am happy to have cute little toes that look nice in sandals and hopping around bare-foot. (I can't wait to be barefoot and pregnant when the weather gets warm!) As a future parent, I am just a little worried about my cute-toe syndrome being passed on to our child especially if it means webbed fingers.
There is no point in worrying about it now, I know that. But sometimes I can't help myself and Google a little. It's just what I do. I know that for the most part, if this shows up on her hands, it can be easily fixed with an operation that entails taking a bit of skin from the groin to allow the fingers to be cut apart and separated. It can be done at 12 to 18 months with little ill effects. The main reason I would have it done, and so early, is so that she would not lose any dexterity that would inhibit her from becoming a great artist, piano player or flipper of the 'bird'.
If her toes are fused, I imagine we will not do anything. And when she asks me about her cute, webbed toes, I can tell her she has toes just like her momma and that 'freaky' runs in our family.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Making the Move
22 Weeks, 1 day.
We met with the certified nurse midwife yesterday. Our appointment was at her home office and of course we arrived early. She didn't mind, invited us in and we sat down in a cozy room. She asked a couple of basic questions: where we lived, my due date, what week I was in and confirmed that we were looking to have a home birth.
Then she asked us if we had questions for her. I didn't know where to start, so she did. She practiced originally as a labor and delivery nurse starting in 1986 and then began doing home birthing in 1997 after going to midwifery school and doing an internship. She has delivered over 700 babies and assisted with another 1100 births.
She told us about her track record for home births. With her first time mothers have a 10% transfer rate to a hospital. That is pretty good, I had read it was 25% on average. She has never needed to do a transfusion for a mother although she could. She told us about her experience with different situations and what she would do. Her level of knowledge and confidence really made me feel comfortable. An OB would never do this - they wouldn't be expected to defend themselves and prove that they would be a good doctor for you.
She asked us to tell her about the pregnancy and what we were looking for in a birthing experience and why. I told her about the miscarriages and who we were currently seeing for care. I told her that I wanted to be home with my family included, if they want to be. I said I would like to invite my mother and father-in-laws and my brother and sister-in-law. (I think my brother would jump out of his skin, but I would invite him anyhow.) I said I wanted it to be fully natural and not be rushed. I didn't want things to spin out of control, which I think happens in hospitals far too often. She nodded a lot and asked questions that ensured me that she was listening to what I was saying and not just planning on what to say next.
She told us that she could do all of the prenatal care from here on out and we wouldn't need to continue going to the OB or perinatal group. She said she is affiliated with an OB in Morristown if we do run into any problems before 37 weeks. I told her that we had one more appointment in 5 weeks at the perinatal group for an ultrasound to check for growth. She said it wasn't necessary for us to continue to have ultrasounds and that the development of the baby could be palpated at this point. I wondered why my OB never did that.
I don't really have a problem leaving the OBs, frankly, I am glad to leave them. There are 3 doctors there and although they are very nice, they don't know me from Adam. In fact, they have gotten our due date wrong several times and keep asking the same questions about the previous miscarriages over and over even though this is all in my chart. The only thing they do every 4 weeks is check my blood pressure, weight, check my urine for protein and sugar, check the fetal heartbeat and then send me on my way. It always seems like a waste of time for us.
On the other hand, the perinatal group does all of the ultrasounds. It's wonderful getting to see Piper moving around inside me. They usually print out a few pictures for us to take home. Since we have now 'graduated' and don't need to be seen every two weeks, it seems like this is just going to be a novelty to keep seeing her through ultrasounds.
Now we have to decide whether we will go to the scheduled ultrasound appointment. The midwife said we didn't need to, but she didn't say we couldn't go. It's up to us. Griffin and I talked about it afterwords. He said he would be fine going one more time. The real question is whether he would be fine not going one more time. That is the question.
I have read over and over that ultrasounds in the third trimester are not necessary unless there is a problem, but we like the ultrasounds. It's so cool to see her and not just feel her inside me. I believe the next ultrasound would be our last one anyhow, so how could one more hurt? Do we care that it is unnecessary? Maybe this is why health insurance costs so much. Well, we have time to think about it.
We talked for almost an hour with the midwife. She asked questions, we asked questions and I felt like I knew more about her in one hour than I know about the OB I have been seeing for the last 2 years. It's a much more personal experience.
We told her that we were considering a waterbirth and she said she does a lot of them. She explained what we would need to get and how the logistics would work. It seemed to be pretty much as I had read.
I asked her again if she thought we were good candidates for home birth and she agreed. She said it's not for everyone and she can usually tell after speaking with a couple whether it is a good option for them. She said she would not take on anyone for home birthing that she thought could not handle it or if it would be too risky for mother and child.
Finally she told us that we would need to get a copy of my records from my OB's office. I thought about how fat my chart now was: filled with information about failed pregnancies. It also has all of the information from the NJ Perinatal Association. So much stuff that we want to put behind us. My only fear is telling the OB that we don't want to use them anymore. I don't know why that scares me. When we were there last time and I asked about a midwife, I could almost see the hackles going up on the doctor. They can't say 'no', can they?
We left the appointment feeling really positive about the whole thing. I asked Griffin if I sounded like a nut talking to her and he reassured me that I didn't. My reasons for wanting a home birth are equal parts emotional and logical. The thought of going to the hospital to deliver Piper makes my skin crawl. The last 4 times I was in a hospital was to have another failed pregnancy removed. I don't associate hospitals with anything good. Hospitals are where you go if you are sick, I am not sick. I am going to have a baby!
We met with the certified nurse midwife yesterday. Our appointment was at her home office and of course we arrived early. She didn't mind, invited us in and we sat down in a cozy room. She asked a couple of basic questions: where we lived, my due date, what week I was in and confirmed that we were looking to have a home birth.
Then she asked us if we had questions for her. I didn't know where to start, so she did. She practiced originally as a labor and delivery nurse starting in 1986 and then began doing home birthing in 1997 after going to midwifery school and doing an internship. She has delivered over 700 babies and assisted with another 1100 births.
She told us about her track record for home births. With her first time mothers have a 10% transfer rate to a hospital. That is pretty good, I had read it was 25% on average. She has never needed to do a transfusion for a mother although she could. She told us about her experience with different situations and what she would do. Her level of knowledge and confidence really made me feel comfortable. An OB would never do this - they wouldn't be expected to defend themselves and prove that they would be a good doctor for you.
She asked us to tell her about the pregnancy and what we were looking for in a birthing experience and why. I told her about the miscarriages and who we were currently seeing for care. I told her that I wanted to be home with my family included, if they want to be. I said I would like to invite my mother and father-in-laws and my brother and sister-in-law. (I think my brother would jump out of his skin, but I would invite him anyhow.) I said I wanted it to be fully natural and not be rushed. I didn't want things to spin out of control, which I think happens in hospitals far too often. She nodded a lot and asked questions that ensured me that she was listening to what I was saying and not just planning on what to say next.
She told us that she could do all of the prenatal care from here on out and we wouldn't need to continue going to the OB or perinatal group. She said she is affiliated with an OB in Morristown if we do run into any problems before 37 weeks. I told her that we had one more appointment in 5 weeks at the perinatal group for an ultrasound to check for growth. She said it wasn't necessary for us to continue to have ultrasounds and that the development of the baby could be palpated at this point. I wondered why my OB never did that.
I don't really have a problem leaving the OBs, frankly, I am glad to leave them. There are 3 doctors there and although they are very nice, they don't know me from Adam. In fact, they have gotten our due date wrong several times and keep asking the same questions about the previous miscarriages over and over even though this is all in my chart. The only thing they do every 4 weeks is check my blood pressure, weight, check my urine for protein and sugar, check the fetal heartbeat and then send me on my way. It always seems like a waste of time for us.
On the other hand, the perinatal group does all of the ultrasounds. It's wonderful getting to see Piper moving around inside me. They usually print out a few pictures for us to take home. Since we have now 'graduated' and don't need to be seen every two weeks, it seems like this is just going to be a novelty to keep seeing her through ultrasounds.
Now we have to decide whether we will go to the scheduled ultrasound appointment. The midwife said we didn't need to, but she didn't say we couldn't go. It's up to us. Griffin and I talked about it afterwords. He said he would be fine going one more time. The real question is whether he would be fine not going one more time. That is the question.
I have read over and over that ultrasounds in the third trimester are not necessary unless there is a problem, but we like the ultrasounds. It's so cool to see her and not just feel her inside me. I believe the next ultrasound would be our last one anyhow, so how could one more hurt? Do we care that it is unnecessary? Maybe this is why health insurance costs so much. Well, we have time to think about it.
We talked for almost an hour with the midwife. She asked questions, we asked questions and I felt like I knew more about her in one hour than I know about the OB I have been seeing for the last 2 years. It's a much more personal experience.
We told her that we were considering a waterbirth and she said she does a lot of them. She explained what we would need to get and how the logistics would work. It seemed to be pretty much as I had read.
I asked her again if she thought we were good candidates for home birth and she agreed. She said it's not for everyone and she can usually tell after speaking with a couple whether it is a good option for them. She said she would not take on anyone for home birthing that she thought could not handle it or if it would be too risky for mother and child.
Finally she told us that we would need to get a copy of my records from my OB's office. I thought about how fat my chart now was: filled with information about failed pregnancies. It also has all of the information from the NJ Perinatal Association. So much stuff that we want to put behind us. My only fear is telling the OB that we don't want to use them anymore. I don't know why that scares me. When we were there last time and I asked about a midwife, I could almost see the hackles going up on the doctor. They can't say 'no', can they?
We left the appointment feeling really positive about the whole thing. I asked Griffin if I sounded like a nut talking to her and he reassured me that I didn't. My reasons for wanting a home birth are equal parts emotional and logical. The thought of going to the hospital to deliver Piper makes my skin crawl. The last 4 times I was in a hospital was to have another failed pregnancy removed. I don't associate hospitals with anything good. Hospitals are where you go if you are sick, I am not sick. I am going to have a baby!
Friday, January 29, 2010
A Good Daddy
22 Weeks
Being pregnant is an interesting state to be in. Your body changes shape, you feel the little spud growing inside, people smile at you knowingly and you are so much more aware of the happy, little things in life. Pregnancy can also leave you feeling angry, helpless and broken when it doesn't go well. There is very little a woman can do to help a failing pregnancy. When I knew last summer that I was going to lose the baby, but still had to carry it around for a few more days that turned into weeks it was sheer torture. Joy and pain in one melon-sized package.
For a woman, pregnancy is something that is experienced every moment. The deep connection between mother and child is due, not in small part, to the actual physical connection. I am at the stage where I feel Piper move on a regular basis. I know that she will jump around when I eat something sweet and nap when I am walking or driving. I am always aware that I am carrying her around with me.
When I woke up this morning there was a big lump bumping out on the left side of my belly. Hard and round it was probably her head. It was really weird, a little scary and yet very exciting. I have had dreams about being able to 'see' her through my skin, but this was the first time I could see it for real. As I got moving the lump flattened out, so I suppose she moved into a more normal position. I didn't tell Griffin about it because I got wrapped up in my day shortly after coming downstairs.
As Piper's movements have been getting stronger, I have been trying to get Griffin to feel them. Often, when we are parked on the loveseat watching a movie, I ask him if he wants to feel my belly. He has felt her move, but not that many times yet. However, I have felt her move on the outside of my belly so hard that my hand has bounced. Perhaps she knows the difference between our touches?
Griffin seems more and more excited about the pregnancy and the offspring to come. When we first started dating he told me that he wanted to have a family. He said that he wouldn't even consider seriously dating someone that didn't want children. He was really looking forward to being a father. I wanted to have a child or maybe two at that time, but it was for more abstract reasons - in my mind it seemed like an interesting experiment. What did I know? I had never experienced motherhood and I had never been pregnant.
When we decided a few years ago that it was a good time to have a family my body wasn't cooperating. After the great joy and then loss of the last pregnancy we started to become very shaky about the idea altogether. The heartbreak of the last loss was so great that Griffin told me he didn't want to try again. I wanted to try one more time.
So here we are at a very successful 22 weeks and I can see that Griffin is becoming more reassured about the future success of this pregnancy. Now we discuss our ideas and ideals about pregnancy, delivery and parenting on a daily basis. Early on during this pregnancy, we didn't talk about any of that. We were playing the 'wait and see' game. I knew he was excited about the prospect of finally having a baby, but the last pregnancy and the disappointment that ensued really seems to have scarred him.
I can't imagine how helpless he felt during that last month. When we found out that things were going poorly, I did what I always do in such dire situations: try to find a way to fix it. Griffin was much more accepting of the loss than I was. He listened to me when I told him about the few options I thought we had, but he did his own research on PROM and did not like what he found.
In the past, we had had discussions about whether it was morally right to bring a baby into the world who would have a short or painful life due to illness. I have always taken the stance that life is hard enough for a 'normal' person, I wouldn't want to knowingly bring a child into this world who's entire existence would be filled with suffering. Griffin didn't entirely agree back then, but time changes a person.
When we were doing research on the effects of PROM on a fetus that was carried for as long as possible we found out that the potential complications were horrible: placental abruption, extreme prematurity, severe learning problems, little or no lung development and intrauterine growth restriction. The low amniotic fluid was already preventing the baby from moving and it was just a curled up ball on all of those last few ultrasounds. I never got to feel it move inside me like this.
On the other hand, I also read a few stories where the baby ended up being okay after several months or years of medical assistance. I became torn and started to doubt that ending the pregnancy was the right choice. The doctors all emphasized the strong likelihood of developing an infection in the amniotic sac and getting very sick or dying and then losing the baby anyhow. This was just more grim news for me to consider. In the end it was the right choice, but it wasn't really a choice at all. It was something that had to be done. Griffin had the strength to let go of his baby and with his strong and gentle heart he helped me survive through it, too. This is what any good daddy would do.
So, here we are at pregnancy number five and for the first time Griffin is getting the chance to feel his child bumping around inside me. He seems very excited and nervous at the same time. I know he is nervous about the next 18 weeks going well, but don't think he is so nervous about the next 18 years going well. He has confidence in his ability to adapt and learn, so do I.
We have been together over seven years and I have come to know many aspects about Griffin that will make him a great father. I grew up with a father that never wanted any children, much less to have a girl child. He had told me so at a very young age and that harsh fact has stayed with me all my days. So Griffin is already well on the way to being a great father, just by wanting to be a father.
Griffin has also changed a lot in these last seven years. When I met him, he was eager to cook for me (I am a vegetarian), he was trying to take the easiest, 'nicest' route for 'training' his puppy (which wasn't really training her at all) and he hadn't made anything truly creative since he was in elementary school. As we have grown together, he has learned that it is easier to let me do the cooking and have him clean up, that dogs crave discipline and training and love knowing that they are doing the right thing to please us (I think kids are the same way) and he is now an amazing artist with a beautifully creative mind.
I admire so much about Griffin, but I think it is his desire to create that I admire most. He is now taking a sculpture class at my old college. It's just for fun, but maintaining the motivation to take an evening course at a school 45 minutes away is not always fun. Besides, making art for art's sake is not easy. It takes self-discipline and dedication. (Of course, he works from home which also takes self-discipline and dedication, but he gets paid to do that.) These are two qualities that are very important in a father. I think my father had a lot of self-discipline, but very little dedication, at least to his children.
The plans we have been making for delivery and child-rearing are not based on ease and convenience for us. After all, it would be easier to just have a regular hospital delivery with our OB, buy baby formula, use disposable diapers, push her around in a stroller, tell her that Santa is watching and that all good people go to heaven. It would be easier, but I don't think it would be better. Not for us. Not after all of the reading I have done. I could never turn a blind eye to all I have learned and do things the 'easy way' now. It will take a lot of self-discipline and dedication to stick to our plans.
Griffin has gotten totally on board with everything I have been suggesting. I send him links to different articles and ask for his opinion. It's amazing how much information is out in cyberspace. I find it hard to believe that everyone isn't raising their children the way we plan to. It is all so logical and sensible on so many levels: good for the child and good for the planet.
There are many other aspects about Griffin which prove to me that he will be a good daddy. These are the qualities one would expect all good fathers to possess: he is loving, gentle, hard-working, kind to others, follows his heart and always tries to do what is right. He has a strong sense of morality and the will to carry through on his convictions. But, knowing that he is strong enough to be able to let go of his own baby when that pregnancy was failing and that he is now brave enough to love his new baby growing inside me is really all the proof I need.
Being pregnant is an interesting state to be in. Your body changes shape, you feel the little spud growing inside, people smile at you knowingly and you are so much more aware of the happy, little things in life. Pregnancy can also leave you feeling angry, helpless and broken when it doesn't go well. There is very little a woman can do to help a failing pregnancy. When I knew last summer that I was going to lose the baby, but still had to carry it around for a few more days that turned into weeks it was sheer torture. Joy and pain in one melon-sized package.
For a woman, pregnancy is something that is experienced every moment. The deep connection between mother and child is due, not in small part, to the actual physical connection. I am at the stage where I feel Piper move on a regular basis. I know that she will jump around when I eat something sweet and nap when I am walking or driving. I am always aware that I am carrying her around with me.
When I woke up this morning there was a big lump bumping out on the left side of my belly. Hard and round it was probably her head. It was really weird, a little scary and yet very exciting. I have had dreams about being able to 'see' her through my skin, but this was the first time I could see it for real. As I got moving the lump flattened out, so I suppose she moved into a more normal position. I didn't tell Griffin about it because I got wrapped up in my day shortly after coming downstairs.
As Piper's movements have been getting stronger, I have been trying to get Griffin to feel them. Often, when we are parked on the loveseat watching a movie, I ask him if he wants to feel my belly. He has felt her move, but not that many times yet. However, I have felt her move on the outside of my belly so hard that my hand has bounced. Perhaps she knows the difference between our touches?
Griffin seems more and more excited about the pregnancy and the offspring to come. When we first started dating he told me that he wanted to have a family. He said that he wouldn't even consider seriously dating someone that didn't want children. He was really looking forward to being a father. I wanted to have a child or maybe two at that time, but it was for more abstract reasons - in my mind it seemed like an interesting experiment. What did I know? I had never experienced motherhood and I had never been pregnant.
When we decided a few years ago that it was a good time to have a family my body wasn't cooperating. After the great joy and then loss of the last pregnancy we started to become very shaky about the idea altogether. The heartbreak of the last loss was so great that Griffin told me he didn't want to try again. I wanted to try one more time.
So here we are at a very successful 22 weeks and I can see that Griffin is becoming more reassured about the future success of this pregnancy. Now we discuss our ideas and ideals about pregnancy, delivery and parenting on a daily basis. Early on during this pregnancy, we didn't talk about any of that. We were playing the 'wait and see' game. I knew he was excited about the prospect of finally having a baby, but the last pregnancy and the disappointment that ensued really seems to have scarred him.
I can't imagine how helpless he felt during that last month. When we found out that things were going poorly, I did what I always do in such dire situations: try to find a way to fix it. Griffin was much more accepting of the loss than I was. He listened to me when I told him about the few options I thought we had, but he did his own research on PROM and did not like what he found.
In the past, we had had discussions about whether it was morally right to bring a baby into the world who would have a short or painful life due to illness. I have always taken the stance that life is hard enough for a 'normal' person, I wouldn't want to knowingly bring a child into this world who's entire existence would be filled with suffering. Griffin didn't entirely agree back then, but time changes a person.
When we were doing research on the effects of PROM on a fetus that was carried for as long as possible we found out that the potential complications were horrible: placental abruption, extreme prematurity, severe learning problems, little or no lung development and intrauterine growth restriction. The low amniotic fluid was already preventing the baby from moving and it was just a curled up ball on all of those last few ultrasounds. I never got to feel it move inside me like this.
On the other hand, I also read a few stories where the baby ended up being okay after several months or years of medical assistance. I became torn and started to doubt that ending the pregnancy was the right choice. The doctors all emphasized the strong likelihood of developing an infection in the amniotic sac and getting very sick or dying and then losing the baby anyhow. This was just more grim news for me to consider. In the end it was the right choice, but it wasn't really a choice at all. It was something that had to be done. Griffin had the strength to let go of his baby and with his strong and gentle heart he helped me survive through it, too. This is what any good daddy would do.
So, here we are at pregnancy number five and for the first time Griffin is getting the chance to feel his child bumping around inside me. He seems very excited and nervous at the same time. I know he is nervous about the next 18 weeks going well, but don't think he is so nervous about the next 18 years going well. He has confidence in his ability to adapt and learn, so do I.
We have been together over seven years and I have come to know many aspects about Griffin that will make him a great father. I grew up with a father that never wanted any children, much less to have a girl child. He had told me so at a very young age and that harsh fact has stayed with me all my days. So Griffin is already well on the way to being a great father, just by wanting to be a father.
Griffin has also changed a lot in these last seven years. When I met him, he was eager to cook for me (I am a vegetarian), he was trying to take the easiest, 'nicest' route for 'training' his puppy (which wasn't really training her at all) and he hadn't made anything truly creative since he was in elementary school. As we have grown together, he has learned that it is easier to let me do the cooking and have him clean up, that dogs crave discipline and training and love knowing that they are doing the right thing to please us (I think kids are the same way) and he is now an amazing artist with a beautifully creative mind.
I admire so much about Griffin, but I think it is his desire to create that I admire most. He is now taking a sculpture class at my old college. It's just for fun, but maintaining the motivation to take an evening course at a school 45 minutes away is not always fun. Besides, making art for art's sake is not easy. It takes self-discipline and dedication. (Of course, he works from home which also takes self-discipline and dedication, but he gets paid to do that.) These are two qualities that are very important in a father. I think my father had a lot of self-discipline, but very little dedication, at least to his children.
The plans we have been making for delivery and child-rearing are not based on ease and convenience for us. After all, it would be easier to just have a regular hospital delivery with our OB, buy baby formula, use disposable diapers, push her around in a stroller, tell her that Santa is watching and that all good people go to heaven. It would be easier, but I don't think it would be better. Not for us. Not after all of the reading I have done. I could never turn a blind eye to all I have learned and do things the 'easy way' now. It will take a lot of self-discipline and dedication to stick to our plans.
Griffin has gotten totally on board with everything I have been suggesting. I send him links to different articles and ask for his opinion. It's amazing how much information is out in cyberspace. I find it hard to believe that everyone isn't raising their children the way we plan to. It is all so logical and sensible on so many levels: good for the child and good for the planet.
There are many other aspects about Griffin which prove to me that he will be a good daddy. These are the qualities one would expect all good fathers to possess: he is loving, gentle, hard-working, kind to others, follows his heart and always tries to do what is right. He has a strong sense of morality and the will to carry through on his convictions. But, knowing that he is strong enough to be able to let go of his own baby when that pregnancy was failing and that he is now brave enough to love his new baby growing inside me is really all the proof I need.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
It's - Natural?
21 Weeks, 6 days.
The cat is out of the bag. Well, maybe it is coming out in super slo-mo, but it is definitely coming out. More and more people at work are actually approaching me and asking if I am, indeed, pregnant. I am getting more comfortable with the idea of discussing my condition with folks outside of my 'pregnancy inner circle'. Although tickling me somewhere in the back of my mind is the thought that I am jinxing this whole thing by talking about it to virtual 'strangers'.
I am not a mystical person. I don't believe in jinxing or bad luck or karma - good or bad - and yet, still I get that miserable little tickle once in a while. Pushing it down and away has become easier over time, but there are days when it rears its ugly head too often.
At lunch today, two more people found out about our happy news. I am no longer actively hiding my pregnancy, however, I cannot bare to think about shouting about it from the rooftops. It just came up in the lunchtime conversation and I spoke about it as if everyone knew and it was no big deal. That alone, was a challenge for me.
A colleague of mine that ate lunch with us is also awaiting the birth of his offspring. His wife is due a couple of weeks before I am. I used to despise other people who were pregnant when I was having miscarriage after miscarriage. I was really bitter, but now it was actually quite pleasant to discuss our upcoming events.
We talked about due dates and finding out the sex and then the topic of birthing came up - I brought it up. I asked if they were planning on having a natural childbirth. His initial reaction was 'yes' and then he amended the statement by saying she was planning on having an epidural. I told him that was not 'natural' and he responded with something like 'Is that not what you meant?'
Apparently, he was thinking 'natural' meant not having a c-section. If it comes out the normal route, then that was the 'natural' part of giving birth. Natural childbirth, right? I found it rather comical.
I told him that we were considering having a home birth. Now, this always raises some eyebrows and he was no exception. My colleague responded with something like - that's really 'interesting' or 'cool'. Since we are mostly nodding acquaintances, I assumed he might be holding his tongue and his true thoughts on the matter.
I thought about this for a while today. It's so strange how we have come to think that there isn't any other option for giving birth other than doing it at a hospital. And that as long as the baby comes out through the birth canal, well, then that's natural enough. The fact that the mother is numb from the belly down, pumped full of drugs and attached to several different monitors all beeping and flickering never enters into the equation. Even if you do it without drugs, the whole hospital setting really doesn't seem so natural to me either.
Most of the time when I discuss home birthing now, I get some variety of a negative reaction. Some responses are strong and on the verge of calling me an idiot and having a death wish for my baby and others are more polite and merely hint at my lunacy. I am developing a thick skin.
Tomorrow, we will meet with a midwife whom we may choose to have help deliver Piper. She started out as a labor and delivery nurse and then moved over to midwifery and home birthing. I am really interested to hear what she thinks about our risk factor, both with the miscarriages and my advanced age. Thirty-seven is considered geriatric in the motherhood biz.
I have been thinking about how I will react if the midwife tells us that home birth is not a good option for us. She is the expert after all. I expect to hear that from an OB, but will be disappointed if a midwife tells us it's not a smart idea. So, what will our next move be? A birthing center? Back to the old hospital option?
Moreover, how would I deal with the possibility of being in labor and finding out that I just can't do it at home? What would it be like to admit defeat and go to a hospital to deliver? Could I stand the barrage of I told you so's that would surely follow? Maybe my skin needs to get a little bit thicker still.
The cat is out of the bag. Well, maybe it is coming out in super slo-mo, but it is definitely coming out. More and more people at work are actually approaching me and asking if I am, indeed, pregnant. I am getting more comfortable with the idea of discussing my condition with folks outside of my 'pregnancy inner circle'. Although tickling me somewhere in the back of my mind is the thought that I am jinxing this whole thing by talking about it to virtual 'strangers'.
I am not a mystical person. I don't believe in jinxing or bad luck or karma - good or bad - and yet, still I get that miserable little tickle once in a while. Pushing it down and away has become easier over time, but there are days when it rears its ugly head too often.
At lunch today, two more people found out about our happy news. I am no longer actively hiding my pregnancy, however, I cannot bare to think about shouting about it from the rooftops. It just came up in the lunchtime conversation and I spoke about it as if everyone knew and it was no big deal. That alone, was a challenge for me.
A colleague of mine that ate lunch with us is also awaiting the birth of his offspring. His wife is due a couple of weeks before I am. I used to despise other people who were pregnant when I was having miscarriage after miscarriage. I was really bitter, but now it was actually quite pleasant to discuss our upcoming events.
We talked about due dates and finding out the sex and then the topic of birthing came up - I brought it up. I asked if they were planning on having a natural childbirth. His initial reaction was 'yes' and then he amended the statement by saying she was planning on having an epidural. I told him that was not 'natural' and he responded with something like 'Is that not what you meant?'
Apparently, he was thinking 'natural' meant not having a c-section. If it comes out the normal route, then that was the 'natural' part of giving birth. Natural childbirth, right? I found it rather comical.
I told him that we were considering having a home birth. Now, this always raises some eyebrows and he was no exception. My colleague responded with something like - that's really 'interesting' or 'cool'. Since we are mostly nodding acquaintances, I assumed he might be holding his tongue and his true thoughts on the matter.
I thought about this for a while today. It's so strange how we have come to think that there isn't any other option for giving birth other than doing it at a hospital. And that as long as the baby comes out through the birth canal, well, then that's natural enough. The fact that the mother is numb from the belly down, pumped full of drugs and attached to several different monitors all beeping and flickering never enters into the equation. Even if you do it without drugs, the whole hospital setting really doesn't seem so natural to me either.
Most of the time when I discuss home birthing now, I get some variety of a negative reaction. Some responses are strong and on the verge of calling me an idiot and having a death wish for my baby and others are more polite and merely hint at my lunacy. I am developing a thick skin.
Tomorrow, we will meet with a midwife whom we may choose to have help deliver Piper. She started out as a labor and delivery nurse and then moved over to midwifery and home birthing. I am really interested to hear what she thinks about our risk factor, both with the miscarriages and my advanced age. Thirty-seven is considered geriatric in the motherhood biz.
I have been thinking about how I will react if the midwife tells us that home birth is not a good option for us. She is the expert after all. I expect to hear that from an OB, but will be disappointed if a midwife tells us it's not a smart idea. So, what will our next move be? A birthing center? Back to the old hospital option?
Moreover, how would I deal with the possibility of being in labor and finding out that I just can't do it at home? What would it be like to admit defeat and go to a hospital to deliver? Could I stand the barrage of I told you so's that would surely follow? Maybe my skin needs to get a little bit thicker still.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Graduation!
21 Weeks, 4 days
Yesterday we had another appointment at the NJ Perinatal Associates at St. Barnabas Hospital. We have been going there every two weeks for the last two months to have my cervix measured. It's an invasive procedure, literally. There is no dignity in pregnancy and I have gotten used to be prodded in all sorts of embarrassing ways. My cervix has been measuring long and closed. Often, the doctor will congratulate me on it as if I had some ability to control this accomplishment. They have been checking my cervix to be sure I am not going into PROM again. Of course, last time my cervix was fine and my water broke anyhow. I won't complain about the kid glove treatment, it has given me peace of mind.
Before the ultrasound to check my lady parts, the tech always does a sonogram to just give us another peek at Piper. She tried with all her might to get Piper to turn her head and smile for the camera. Piper would not cooperate. Proving, once again, that our stubbornness runs in her genes.
Then the doctor came it. He did his exam and complimented my nice, long cervix. Good job! After scrawling down some notes he announced that we have graduated. This was the last check they were going to do on my cervix. Clearly everything is going along just fine and it is now unnecessary to keep measuring it. The next time they want to see us is in six weeks. Six weeks! Wow. I felt like I had won the lottery.
I asked the doctor if he would consider this a 'low risk' pregnancy - he started shaking his head before I could finish my question - which was if you don't take the other pregnancies into consideration. He smiled a bit and nodded. Yes, this is a normal pregnancy. It's so nice to be normal.
Griffin and I made the next appointment which will be in March. I will be 27 weeks and change at that time. My next OB appointment is not for another four weeks. We have nearly a whole month with no doctor visits! It's amazing. Wonderful. A relief.
We had been seeing a doctor or giving blood nearly every week, I can't believe they are letting us go so long. I feel like a little kid who had their training wheels taken off. We are flying solo for four long weeks. How will I survive without the doc stroking my cervix's ego? What will do with our free time? I guess we will look to meet with a midwife now. That will occupy us for a while. We can discuss the possibility of home birth with her. Mind you, I only said possibility.
Yesterday we had another appointment at the NJ Perinatal Associates at St. Barnabas Hospital. We have been going there every two weeks for the last two months to have my cervix measured. It's an invasive procedure, literally. There is no dignity in pregnancy and I have gotten used to be prodded in all sorts of embarrassing ways. My cervix has been measuring long and closed. Often, the doctor will congratulate me on it as if I had some ability to control this accomplishment. They have been checking my cervix to be sure I am not going into PROM again. Of course, last time my cervix was fine and my water broke anyhow. I won't complain about the kid glove treatment, it has given me peace of mind.
Before the ultrasound to check my lady parts, the tech always does a sonogram to just give us another peek at Piper. She tried with all her might to get Piper to turn her head and smile for the camera. Piper would not cooperate. Proving, once again, that our stubbornness runs in her genes.
Then the doctor came it. He did his exam and complimented my nice, long cervix. Good job! After scrawling down some notes he announced that we have graduated. This was the last check they were going to do on my cervix. Clearly everything is going along just fine and it is now unnecessary to keep measuring it. The next time they want to see us is in six weeks. Six weeks! Wow. I felt like I had won the lottery.
I asked the doctor if he would consider this a 'low risk' pregnancy - he started shaking his head before I could finish my question - which was if you don't take the other pregnancies into consideration. He smiled a bit and nodded. Yes, this is a normal pregnancy. It's so nice to be normal.
Griffin and I made the next appointment which will be in March. I will be 27 weeks and change at that time. My next OB appointment is not for another four weeks. We have nearly a whole month with no doctor visits! It's amazing. Wonderful. A relief.
We had been seeing a doctor or giving blood nearly every week, I can't believe they are letting us go so long. I feel like a little kid who had their training wheels taken off. We are flying solo for four long weeks. How will I survive without the doc stroking my cervix's ego? What will do with our free time? I guess we will look to meet with a midwife now. That will occupy us for a while. We can discuss the possibility of home birth with her. Mind you, I only said possibility.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
How I am Preparing for Motherhood
21 weeks, 2 days
I have never babysat, not for a baby anyhow. Never gave a baby a bottle, held a baby, certainly never changed a diaper. As a little girl, I used my dolls for 'parts' to create other toys and build weird things. (Little did I know I would continue this practice as an adult!) I didn't pretend to be a mommy and take care of my baby dolls. I did, however, do this with my stuffed animals. I cherished them and took very good care of them. My family got our first dog, Tara, when I was five. She was a constant companion for me until she was put to sleep 11 years later. We also acquired several cats, parakeets, fish, rabbits, frogs, turtles, snakes, lizards and various wild critters that were injured or 'homeless'.
As I think about and plan how to take care of Piper, I have realized that, although not in a conventional way, I have been preparing to be a mother all my life. Our current menagerie is excellent preparation for me:
I have 2 fish tanks. The 90 gallon houses 12 angelfish among other tropical fish. It is also a fully planted tank with 10 different species of aquatic plants. Fish keeping is like being pregnant. The fish are trapped in the tank, you choose what food they get, where they get moved to, how loud and active their environment will be and who their tankmates will be. It's like playing god. You get to choose everything that happens in that tank - they rely on you for everything. I can be an evil god and neglect to feed them and change their water or I can be a benevolent god and focus on their care.
I have been noticing more and more that Piper responds to what I eat and the action around me. She can't make me do anything, but just like the fish who remind me to feed them when I walk by the tank, she gives me a few swift kicks when I haven't eaten for a little while. I also pay significantly more attention to what I eat and how often. After all she is trapped in the fishbowl in my belly. I have learned to be a benevolent god to my fish, and to my offspring.
Eleu is our 6 year old macaw. He lives his life in his cage in our sunroom. I take him out most evenings while we relax in front of the TV watching a movie. He gets to take a shower with me every week so he doesn't become a 'stinky bird'. He also depends upon me for food and toys. His cage is not unlike a baby crib. A place that is safe and full of fun things. Occasionally, Eleu screams for what seems like no good reason other times he his having fun wrestling with a toy and doesn't need my attention. There's a greeting call that he uses when he just wants me to say hello to him. Sometimes I think he is just testing me to make sure I will come. When he screams uncontrollably, I cover his cage with his blanket. Then he knows he has gone too far.
He has many different screams and I know them all. There is one he makes when he is in pain or very frightened. This scream gets me moving fast and will I bolt into the room. He got his toe stuck in a toy once and panicked with this call. But being a clever bird - Eleu occasionally plays the 'bird who cried wolf' and when I get into his room with my heart pounding, he just says "hello". "Don't do that to me!" I will often holler back, and then he won't do it again for a long time. From Eleu I have learned that if you can't get out of your crib, you will need to use the right cry to get the attention you want. Learn the difference quickly.
My two cats are over 10 years old, Jack and Hunter - they are brothers. When I adopted them from the shelter, they were feral cats. They were only 8 weeks old, all claws and teeth. They were terrified of me. For the first few days they wouldn't even come out from under my bed. I fed them under there, gave them their litterbox under there and spent hours lying on my belly talking to them while they hissed at me. They refused to come out and wouldn't let me touch them - yet.
Even as loving adult cats, they are very quirky. Jack does not like to be held. He will kick and thrash until you let him go. He doesn't even like to be on my lap, but let him lay next to you on the couch and he will purr for hours. Hunter taunts the dog. He waits for her to come up the basement stairs so he can whack her as she comes around the corner. If I catch him waiting for her I will scold him and he will run away, but he usually comes back when I am not watching. You can't make a cat do anything it doesn't want to do and it's hard to stop it from doing something it really wants to do. I suppose the same is true for a baby. No amount of begging, sweet-talking, tricking or forcing can make them do what they aren't ready to do. From my cats I learned patience and compromise.
Bella is a Great Pyrenees, 5 years old, beautiful, smart and gentle. She grew up with our Bernese Mountain Dog, Ling. We had to put Ling to sleep last year because she had cancer. When Bella was a puppy, she followed Ling everywhere. Ling was a well trained dog - we trained her. She learned a lot from our instructions, but there were some things we couldn't communicate to her and she never learned them. She had some quirks. We never trained Bella. I didn't do any formal training and yet she knows how to sit, stay, come, lie down, give paw, wait, etc. She learned all of this from watching Ling.
It's amazing how much a young creature can learn from watching and imitating the older creatures. From Bella I have learned that we will be role models for Piper and she will probably learn more from watching and imitating us than from anything else. I hope we will do her justice.
I have never babysat, not for a baby anyhow. Never gave a baby a bottle, held a baby, certainly never changed a diaper. As a little girl, I used my dolls for 'parts' to create other toys and build weird things. (Little did I know I would continue this practice as an adult!) I didn't pretend to be a mommy and take care of my baby dolls. I did, however, do this with my stuffed animals. I cherished them and took very good care of them. My family got our first dog, Tara, when I was five. She was a constant companion for me until she was put to sleep 11 years later. We also acquired several cats, parakeets, fish, rabbits, frogs, turtles, snakes, lizards and various wild critters that were injured or 'homeless'.
As I think about and plan how to take care of Piper, I have realized that, although not in a conventional way, I have been preparing to be a mother all my life. Our current menagerie is excellent preparation for me:
I have 2 fish tanks. The 90 gallon houses 12 angelfish among other tropical fish. It is also a fully planted tank with 10 different species of aquatic plants. Fish keeping is like being pregnant. The fish are trapped in the tank, you choose what food they get, where they get moved to, how loud and active their environment will be and who their tankmates will be. It's like playing god. You get to choose everything that happens in that tank - they rely on you for everything. I can be an evil god and neglect to feed them and change their water or I can be a benevolent god and focus on their care.
I have been noticing more and more that Piper responds to what I eat and the action around me. She can't make me do anything, but just like the fish who remind me to feed them when I walk by the tank, she gives me a few swift kicks when I haven't eaten for a little while. I also pay significantly more attention to what I eat and how often. After all she is trapped in the fishbowl in my belly. I have learned to be a benevolent god to my fish, and to my offspring.
Eleu is our 6 year old macaw. He lives his life in his cage in our sunroom. I take him out most evenings while we relax in front of the TV watching a movie. He gets to take a shower with me every week so he doesn't become a 'stinky bird'. He also depends upon me for food and toys. His cage is not unlike a baby crib. A place that is safe and full of fun things. Occasionally, Eleu screams for what seems like no good reason other times he his having fun wrestling with a toy and doesn't need my attention. There's a greeting call that he uses when he just wants me to say hello to him. Sometimes I think he is just testing me to make sure I will come. When he screams uncontrollably, I cover his cage with his blanket. Then he knows he has gone too far.
He has many different screams and I know them all. There is one he makes when he is in pain or very frightened. This scream gets me moving fast and will I bolt into the room. He got his toe stuck in a toy once and panicked with this call. But being a clever bird - Eleu occasionally plays the 'bird who cried wolf' and when I get into his room with my heart pounding, he just says "hello". "Don't do that to me!" I will often holler back, and then he won't do it again for a long time. From Eleu I have learned that if you can't get out of your crib, you will need to use the right cry to get the attention you want. Learn the difference quickly.
My two cats are over 10 years old, Jack and Hunter - they are brothers. When I adopted them from the shelter, they were feral cats. They were only 8 weeks old, all claws and teeth. They were terrified of me. For the first few days they wouldn't even come out from under my bed. I fed them under there, gave them their litterbox under there and spent hours lying on my belly talking to them while they hissed at me. They refused to come out and wouldn't let me touch them - yet.
Even as loving adult cats, they are very quirky. Jack does not like to be held. He will kick and thrash until you let him go. He doesn't even like to be on my lap, but let him lay next to you on the couch and he will purr for hours. Hunter taunts the dog. He waits for her to come up the basement stairs so he can whack her as she comes around the corner. If I catch him waiting for her I will scold him and he will run away, but he usually comes back when I am not watching. You can't make a cat do anything it doesn't want to do and it's hard to stop it from doing something it really wants to do. I suppose the same is true for a baby. No amount of begging, sweet-talking, tricking or forcing can make them do what they aren't ready to do. From my cats I learned patience and compromise.
Bella is a Great Pyrenees, 5 years old, beautiful, smart and gentle. She grew up with our Bernese Mountain Dog, Ling. We had to put Ling to sleep last year because she had cancer. When Bella was a puppy, she followed Ling everywhere. Ling was a well trained dog - we trained her. She learned a lot from our instructions, but there were some things we couldn't communicate to her and she never learned them. She had some quirks. We never trained Bella. I didn't do any formal training and yet she knows how to sit, stay, come, lie down, give paw, wait, etc. She learned all of this from watching Ling.
It's amazing how much a young creature can learn from watching and imitating the older creatures. From Bella I have learned that we will be role models for Piper and she will probably learn more from watching and imitating us than from anything else. I hope we will do her justice.
Friday, January 22, 2010
What Are You - Crazy?
21 Weeks
The pregnancy has been going along swimmingly. It's amazing how I am actually thinking about the process of giving birth now. Part of me thought for a long time that I might never get there. It's as if I feared my body would just keep rejecting the idea of incubating this creature for a full nine months, but now, I am thinking it will actually happen. Therefore, I have been thinking about how I want this to happen.
We watched the movie "The Business of Being Born" and another movie "Pregnant in America" - okay, not just movies, documentaries. They both dealt with different birthing options and focused on natural childbirth and home birthing. The idea of giving birth at home initially seemed insane to me. It's unsanitary! There is dog and cat hair on the rug and crumbs in the kitchen! But when I start to think about hospitals, I think that that is where you go when you are sick. I am pregnant, not sick. I don't need an operation, I need to do what women have done for thousands of years.
Americans are obsessed with the idea of health care, but health care to many of us is having a doctor cure what is wrong with us by taking a pill or preforming an operation. If we examine our lifestyle, what we eat and how we live, perhaps we may find with a few changes we don't need so much 'health care'.
I used to think that there was no way I could stand the pain of expelling an eight pound baby from my body, but over the last few years that has changed. I have experienced pain, both physical and emotional, that I never thought I could endure. The pain of labor, the process of delivering this much desired, much anticipated baby will be nothing like the pain I went through this summer having to end my pregnancy at 20 weeks.
I told a young friend of mine that Griffin and I were considering home birth and she was appalled. She had the same reaction that everyone does - what if something goes wrong? How will you get to the hospital in time? Women give birth in hospitals all the time and end up with problems that doctors can't fix. The infant mortality rate in the United States is higher than virtually every other first world country. Why? Perhaps because we treat birthing as a health care issue and not as a natural process.
We have an appointment at the OB today. I will be proposing home birth with a midwife to them. What do you think the response will be?
Tune in later for the exciting results!
___________________________________________
And now the exciting conclusion....
The nurse took my weight and blood pressure. All fine. Gained a few more pounds. BP nice and normal. The doc came in and talked about blood test results and the level II ultrasound results. She talked as if it might be the first time we were hearing this information. I chuckled to myself. Did she think we would sit idly by and wait to hear about results days and weeks later? She checked by fetal heartbeat. Nice and regular. Of course, the NJPA group at St. Barnabas does that and a lot more every two weeks, the nurse that shoots me in the ass every Thursday checks it too and I have a home FH doppler, so I can check it too. I waited for the moment to ask.
Any questions? Yes. Are you affiliated with any midwives? A look of alarm passed over her face. The answer was no. Not surprising. She told me there were some midwives that worked out of the hospital in their own group. And then she started in on how I need to continue being under their care. I told her I had every intention continuing my monitoring, but this was about the birth.
She told me that they were willing for me to have as natural of a birth as possible at the hospital. I smiled and nodded. She reminded me that this is still considered a high risk pregnancy. Did she need to even mention that? I am well-aware, thank you. When I assured her that I would continue my care she seemed to relax a bit.
Ultimately, she conceded. As long as the rest of the pregnancy is as normal as the first half has been, she supposed it would be alright to use a midwife. I nodded. It didn't really matter what she said, we are going to do what we want anyhow. Of course I didn't mention that I wanted to do this at home. Perhaps I would save that tidbit for another time. I would like to speak to a few midwives first and pick one that has similar views to ours. I don't think that will be hard to find.
I was very happy to see that my insurance does cover care by a midwife. There are board certified midwives that are in my insurance plan and somehow that certification means a lot to me.
We have another appointment at the NJPA high risk pregnancy group on Monday. Maybe I will bring up the home birthing there and see what their reaction is like. I find it all a bit amusing. "What are you - crazy?" There's nothing natural about having a baby.....
The pregnancy has been going along swimmingly. It's amazing how I am actually thinking about the process of giving birth now. Part of me thought for a long time that I might never get there. It's as if I feared my body would just keep rejecting the idea of incubating this creature for a full nine months, but now, I am thinking it will actually happen. Therefore, I have been thinking about how I want this to happen.
We watched the movie "The Business of Being Born" and another movie "Pregnant in America" - okay, not just movies, documentaries. They both dealt with different birthing options and focused on natural childbirth and home birthing. The idea of giving birth at home initially seemed insane to me. It's unsanitary! There is dog and cat hair on the rug and crumbs in the kitchen! But when I start to think about hospitals, I think that that is where you go when you are sick. I am pregnant, not sick. I don't need an operation, I need to do what women have done for thousands of years.
Americans are obsessed with the idea of health care, but health care to many of us is having a doctor cure what is wrong with us by taking a pill or preforming an operation. If we examine our lifestyle, what we eat and how we live, perhaps we may find with a few changes we don't need so much 'health care'.
I used to think that there was no way I could stand the pain of expelling an eight pound baby from my body, but over the last few years that has changed. I have experienced pain, both physical and emotional, that I never thought I could endure. The pain of labor, the process of delivering this much desired, much anticipated baby will be nothing like the pain I went through this summer having to end my pregnancy at 20 weeks.
I told a young friend of mine that Griffin and I were considering home birth and she was appalled. She had the same reaction that everyone does - what if something goes wrong? How will you get to the hospital in time? Women give birth in hospitals all the time and end up with problems that doctors can't fix. The infant mortality rate in the United States is higher than virtually every other first world country. Why? Perhaps because we treat birthing as a health care issue and not as a natural process.
We have an appointment at the OB today. I will be proposing home birth with a midwife to them. What do you think the response will be?
Tune in later for the exciting results!
___________________________________________
And now the exciting conclusion....
The nurse took my weight and blood pressure. All fine. Gained a few more pounds. BP nice and normal. The doc came in and talked about blood test results and the level II ultrasound results. She talked as if it might be the first time we were hearing this information. I chuckled to myself. Did she think we would sit idly by and wait to hear about results days and weeks later? She checked by fetal heartbeat. Nice and regular. Of course, the NJPA group at St. Barnabas does that and a lot more every two weeks, the nurse that shoots me in the ass every Thursday checks it too and I have a home FH doppler, so I can check it too. I waited for the moment to ask.
Any questions? Yes. Are you affiliated with any midwives? A look of alarm passed over her face. The answer was no. Not surprising. She told me there were some midwives that worked out of the hospital in their own group. And then she started in on how I need to continue being under their care. I told her I had every intention continuing my monitoring, but this was about the birth.
She told me that they were willing for me to have as natural of a birth as possible at the hospital. I smiled and nodded. She reminded me that this is still considered a high risk pregnancy. Did she need to even mention that? I am well-aware, thank you. When I assured her that I would continue my care she seemed to relax a bit.
Ultimately, she conceded. As long as the rest of the pregnancy is as normal as the first half has been, she supposed it would be alright to use a midwife. I nodded. It didn't really matter what she said, we are going to do what we want anyhow. Of course I didn't mention that I wanted to do this at home. Perhaps I would save that tidbit for another time. I would like to speak to a few midwives first and pick one that has similar views to ours. I don't think that will be hard to find.
I was very happy to see that my insurance does cover care by a midwife. There are board certified midwives that are in my insurance plan and somehow that certification means a lot to me.
We have another appointment at the NJPA high risk pregnancy group on Monday. Maybe I will bring up the home birthing there and see what their reaction is like. I find it all a bit amusing. "What are you - crazy?" There's nothing natural about having a baby.....
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
You Can't Make Me Happy - Don't Even Try
20 weeks, 5 days
Everyday for the last seven or eight weeks I have felt pregnant. Pregnant in different ways - most of them uncomfortable. Early on it was morning sickness all day long. It got to the point where I would eat a few bites of something and I could feel the gag starting. I didn't eat much and I didn't eat often. I drank lots of juice mixed with water and whimpered often.
Just after 12 weeks the morning sickness was gone and I was hungry. My stomach would growl just half an hour after eating. I snacked all the time. I won't even talk about the gas and the clever ways I am still forced to camouflage its sounds and smells. Anyhow, very quickly my pants became snug and then downright tight. I moved into my maternity pants with a sigh of relief. Of course most of my maternity pants are stretchy yoga pants and I really miss my jeans.
So I purchased a couple of Bellabands to hold up my jeans. This clever invention allows pregnant and, I suppose, chubby women to wear their too tight jeans. You pull up your jeans and leave them unzipped and unbuttoned. Then you pull on the Bellaband. This thing looks like a tube skirt from the 90's made of spandex. It covers the unbuttoned jeans and part of your belly above. It's a great little trick, of course I would spend the day adjusting it. Yank it down below - yank it up above. Got to be sure nothing is exposed. It looks cute sticking out under a shirt or sweater, but it's a high maintenance accessory.
The last few weeks I have also been experiencing heartburn. I have not had heartburn since I was in my early 20's and working at a stressful job in the hotel industry. The sensation of something nasty, pukey and achy rising in my throat is awful. I think my sitting posture may have something to do with it, but if I sit upright I am also uncomfortable. A stitch develops in my side. I think it's round ligament pain - normal, but annoying. Either way, I lose. So, it is what it is.
Today I wore maternity pants that are adjustable. They are somewhat like chinos, but look dressier. I also wore a nice, long sweater that requires no adjustment. I was so comfortable all day. My classes were well behaved and the day flew by. I ate a sandwich on seven grain bread for lunch instead of my usual overflowing plate from the salad bar - the salad bar that contains delicious beans that I heap on, need I say more? So I was comfortable that way too.
As I drove home I started thinking about how great I felt all day and so I began to worry. I am not supposed to be comfortable, I am pregnant! I felt my belly and somehow I didn't feel puffy enough. Nothing ached. Nothing burned. I was a bit worried. Was something wrong?
I hurried home. After greeting Griffin, the dog, the bird and the cats I went to the bathroom. Facing forward I didn't look particularly pregnant. I turned sideways and whoa-nelly! There's the belly. It seems to have changed shape from wide to puffed out in front today. Maybe it's the pants. I felt a little better and showed Griffin my puffball in its new shape.
After milling around the house, I decided to crash on the couch with my laptop. I filled a glass with Bolthouse juice - this thick, berry concoction - and sipped it as I checked my email. After 20 minutes the heartburn started. My belly felt like a little basketball pushing up my stomach. There was a little tugging on my left side again. And my pants were still comfy - well, except for the label in the back that I began to notice itching me. Ahhhh. Back to feeling pregnant and uncomfortable. Why can't I just savor the moments when I feel good? I guess those annoying feelings give me comfort that all is progressing. No pain, no gain, right?
Everyday for the last seven or eight weeks I have felt pregnant. Pregnant in different ways - most of them uncomfortable. Early on it was morning sickness all day long. It got to the point where I would eat a few bites of something and I could feel the gag starting. I didn't eat much and I didn't eat often. I drank lots of juice mixed with water and whimpered often.
Just after 12 weeks the morning sickness was gone and I was hungry. My stomach would growl just half an hour after eating. I snacked all the time. I won't even talk about the gas and the clever ways I am still forced to camouflage its sounds and smells. Anyhow, very quickly my pants became snug and then downright tight. I moved into my maternity pants with a sigh of relief. Of course most of my maternity pants are stretchy yoga pants and I really miss my jeans.
So I purchased a couple of Bellabands to hold up my jeans. This clever invention allows pregnant and, I suppose, chubby women to wear their too tight jeans. You pull up your jeans and leave them unzipped and unbuttoned. Then you pull on the Bellaband. This thing looks like a tube skirt from the 90's made of spandex. It covers the unbuttoned jeans and part of your belly above. It's a great little trick, of course I would spend the day adjusting it. Yank it down below - yank it up above. Got to be sure nothing is exposed. It looks cute sticking out under a shirt or sweater, but it's a high maintenance accessory.
The last few weeks I have also been experiencing heartburn. I have not had heartburn since I was in my early 20's and working at a stressful job in the hotel industry. The sensation of something nasty, pukey and achy rising in my throat is awful. I think my sitting posture may have something to do with it, but if I sit upright I am also uncomfortable. A stitch develops in my side. I think it's round ligament pain - normal, but annoying. Either way, I lose. So, it is what it is.
Today I wore maternity pants that are adjustable. They are somewhat like chinos, but look dressier. I also wore a nice, long sweater that requires no adjustment. I was so comfortable all day. My classes were well behaved and the day flew by. I ate a sandwich on seven grain bread for lunch instead of my usual overflowing plate from the salad bar - the salad bar that contains delicious beans that I heap on, need I say more? So I was comfortable that way too.
As I drove home I started thinking about how great I felt all day and so I began to worry. I am not supposed to be comfortable, I am pregnant! I felt my belly and somehow I didn't feel puffy enough. Nothing ached. Nothing burned. I was a bit worried. Was something wrong?
I hurried home. After greeting Griffin, the dog, the bird and the cats I went to the bathroom. Facing forward I didn't look particularly pregnant. I turned sideways and whoa-nelly! There's the belly. It seems to have changed shape from wide to puffed out in front today. Maybe it's the pants. I felt a little better and showed Griffin my puffball in its new shape.
After milling around the house, I decided to crash on the couch with my laptop. I filled a glass with Bolthouse juice - this thick, berry concoction - and sipped it as I checked my email. After 20 minutes the heartburn started. My belly felt like a little basketball pushing up my stomach. There was a little tugging on my left side again. And my pants were still comfy - well, except for the label in the back that I began to notice itching me. Ahhhh. Back to feeling pregnant and uncomfortable. Why can't I just savor the moments when I feel good? I guess those annoying feelings give me comfort that all is progressing. No pain, no gain, right?
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Zap! Zap! Zap!
20 Weeks, 4 days
Last night Griffin and I went to a store I had never stepped foot in before - Babies 'R' Us. We went with my in-laws to create a registry for my baby shower. I knew they would give us a zapper and we could zap everything that we wanted. Free to zap all we desired. Who could stop me? And it's best to tell people what you want to get, right?
Well - being the efficient person I occasionally am, I preregistered online the day before and checked out the many guides on the Babies 'R' Us website to see what we would need. When I realized we would need a car seat, two actually, I surfed over to Consumer Reports to find out which seats were top rated. I cross-checked this information to see what would fit into my MINI and added that seat, a Britax Roundabout 50 to our online registry. I also checked out highchairs and cradles, picked the 'best' ones, cross-checked this information with Epinions and several parenting guides to help me make the final selections. I felt like I had a good grip on what I was in for.
Griffin and I met his folks at their house, we piled into one car and took off for dinner first. Shopping for baby supplies doesn't seem like a good activity to do on an empty stomach. After a very filling dinner we were off again. We arrived at Babies 'R' Us. This store is bright - bright in a way that is offensive to the eyes: like candy that is too sweet and overpowered with flavoring. I blinked a lot.
We started at the bottles and nipples. Although I plan to breastfeed, I know I will need these devices when I return to work in September. However, I am highly concerned about giving our offspring anything made of plastic to hold food, drinks or gnaw on for a long period of time. I have read that bisphenol can leach out of plastic and be ingested by the child. This chemical is linked to cancer, early onset menses and hyperactivity among other issues. Do I want to raise a hyperactive-reproductive-cancerous-7-year-old? No thanks. So I put off on the bottle buying until I can determine what type of bottle might be best. So far stainless steel is looking pretty good and oh-so industrial chic.
We moved over to the bathing department. I read an article that says you don't need an infant bathtub, they just take up space. Space in your house and then space in a landfill. You can wash an infant in a big bowl, if need be. (Toss in some pine nuts and cherry tomatoes and you can have a lovely salad.) I also read that we Americans over-wash our kids and don't let their immune systems strengthen against common grim. Apparently, sponge bathing is fine for most babies until they can crawl around, get sweaty and stink. Boy, am I looking forward to that!
So we passed on the tub, we also passed on some bath towels with Elmo's head as the hood. That just looked freaky. So far, no zapping. We had been there 20 minutes. We made it over to the first aide supplies. I could spend a lot of time here. Neither Griffin nor I are particularly nimble or graceful. I have bruises on my bruises from crashing into shadows. Griffin can make a wine glass explode by breathing near it. Our kid may inherit our shortcomings and be in dire need of some first aide at an early age. Somehow, though, I neglected to zap a first aide kit.
Finally, we zapped some personal grooming items. Nail clipper, forehead thermometer, and a brush. I didn't think we needed the brush. Do you brush a baby? It looked just like the one that I use to brush my cats. Why would I need another one of those? I zapped it, just in case.
On to strollers. Don't need one of those. We are planning on wearing our baby - like an elegant brooch pinned to our chest. Strollers just push your baby away from you. It's not nurturing. I want to nurture. Someone mentioned netting for a stroller. No. Netting and stroller covers would just create an environment of sensory deprivation for our budding genius. Griffin piped in with something about how we are going to let our kid get bitten by bugs and it would be good for her. Not what I was thinking, but okay, that too.
Next came the bouncy-plastic-noisy-walker-rolly things. Don't need one of those. These walker things actually retard your baby from learning to walk. Who needs to balance on your fat, sloppy pins when you can just tip-toe around in your baby-wheelchair? They are also another hunk of plastic that I don't want to contribute to the landfills. I won't even mention the appalling plastic gee-gaws and doo-hickeys that blink and beep and whine which are attached to the fronts of these things. Not going to mention it.
On to car seats, you know I have that one all sewn up. The one model I picked was on display. No one seemed too impressed. "It's got the highest crash rating," I pointed out. Not much of a reaction. No zapping here. The other model I picked wasn't on display. I guess it's not that popular. Next aisle, highchairs, got that one covered too. Did my research. Done. Our model wasn't on display. What a surprise, I didn't pick a popular model here either, but it was highly rated by many parents. I also watched a cool video on Youtube that clinched it for me. Its called a Boon Flair - looks like it is from the Jetsons. I liked it. I wish it came in my size.
A few aisles later. Cribs and cradles. Days ago I picked out a crib on the Pottery Barn Kids website when I registered there. I was not going to mess around with a cheap crib that would entrap my only offspring while we slept. Again, I was not surprised to see that the cradle I picked wasn't on display. I can pick 'em. Obscure and unpopular? - my top choice!
We looked at crib mobiles. It can be good stimulation for the baby to have something to look up at while it's trapped in its sleeping quarters, however, every mobile came with a tinny music box inside that sounded like a demented clown looking for a victim. I do not need this soundtrack in my peaceful home. I zapped one I thought was silent, but turned out, I was wrong - I missed the fine print. It played 'Brahm's Lullaby'. I'm sure it sounds just as he intended.
We zapped some crib sheets. A few sleep sacks. Some velcro assisted swaddling cloths. And stumbled into the 'toy' aisles. Yikes! Can you say 'made in China' ten-times fast? Everything looked like it was made of plutonium. It was all neon and glowing. I explained that I didn't want the kid chewing on anything so freakishly unnatural looking. Are we to assume that all of these 'toys' have been tested for their chemical make-up? Am I to entrust the health of my little grub to the people who added melamine to baby formula to save a few bucks? No thanks. I decided to look for more organic toys online when we got home.
Finally, the moment we all have been waiting for - baby duds. Teeny-tiny, little outfits that will fit our kid for what? A week? A month? Well, at least we could have some fun here, right? Apparently, girls need to be dressed in pink. I scoffed as my mother-in-law as she picked out pink nighties, pink dresses, pink twin-sets and pink fluffy things. Griffin found a cute outfit with monkeys on it. That's for boys! Monsters - boys! Skulls - boys! Robots, puppies and peace signs? Boys, boys, boys. I drew the line at peace signs and zapped them. Griffin found a pair of rain boots with a skull and cross-bone pattern. I zapped 'em. Booties with funny little monsters on the toes. Zapped 'em. What does it matter what you dress your wee one in? Might as well have fun right?
We finished up and returned to the registry desk to give back the zapper. The lady confirmed that we were having a girl and promptly told us that we had accidentally selected boys' booties. It was the monster booties. I defended our choice to the woman. It was late, she didn't care. She left it on the list. We finished up and left. We zapped 24 items. I planned on removing the 'miszappings' when we got home. So, maybe 20 items? But I learned an important lesson . . . it's always important to - wait, I didn't learn any important lessons. It was still an entertaining evening for me, although I fear my in-laws think I am really nuts now.
Last night Griffin and I went to a store I had never stepped foot in before - Babies 'R' Us. We went with my in-laws to create a registry for my baby shower. I knew they would give us a zapper and we could zap everything that we wanted. Free to zap all we desired. Who could stop me? And it's best to tell people what you want to get, right?
Well - being the efficient person I occasionally am, I preregistered online the day before and checked out the many guides on the Babies 'R' Us website to see what we would need. When I realized we would need a car seat, two actually, I surfed over to Consumer Reports to find out which seats were top rated. I cross-checked this information to see what would fit into my MINI and added that seat, a Britax Roundabout 50 to our online registry. I also checked out highchairs and cradles, picked the 'best' ones, cross-checked this information with Epinions and several parenting guides to help me make the final selections. I felt like I had a good grip on what I was in for.
Griffin and I met his folks at their house, we piled into one car and took off for dinner first. Shopping for baby supplies doesn't seem like a good activity to do on an empty stomach. After a very filling dinner we were off again. We arrived at Babies 'R' Us. This store is bright - bright in a way that is offensive to the eyes: like candy that is too sweet and overpowered with flavoring. I blinked a lot.
We started at the bottles and nipples. Although I plan to breastfeed, I know I will need these devices when I return to work in September. However, I am highly concerned about giving our offspring anything made of plastic to hold food, drinks or gnaw on for a long period of time. I have read that bisphenol can leach out of plastic and be ingested by the child. This chemical is linked to cancer, early onset menses and hyperactivity among other issues. Do I want to raise a hyperactive-reproductive-cancerous-7-year-old? No thanks. So I put off on the bottle buying until I can determine what type of bottle might be best. So far stainless steel is looking pretty good and oh-so industrial chic.
We moved over to the bathing department. I read an article that says you don't need an infant bathtub, they just take up space. Space in your house and then space in a landfill. You can wash an infant in a big bowl, if need be. (Toss in some pine nuts and cherry tomatoes and you can have a lovely salad.) I also read that we Americans over-wash our kids and don't let their immune systems strengthen against common grim. Apparently, sponge bathing is fine for most babies until they can crawl around, get sweaty and stink. Boy, am I looking forward to that!
So we passed on the tub, we also passed on some bath towels with Elmo's head as the hood. That just looked freaky. So far, no zapping. We had been there 20 minutes. We made it over to the first aide supplies. I could spend a lot of time here. Neither Griffin nor I are particularly nimble or graceful. I have bruises on my bruises from crashing into shadows. Griffin can make a wine glass explode by breathing near it. Our kid may inherit our shortcomings and be in dire need of some first aide at an early age. Somehow, though, I neglected to zap a first aide kit.
Finally, we zapped some personal grooming items. Nail clipper, forehead thermometer, and a brush. I didn't think we needed the brush. Do you brush a baby? It looked just like the one that I use to brush my cats. Why would I need another one of those? I zapped it, just in case.
On to strollers. Don't need one of those. We are planning on wearing our baby - like an elegant brooch pinned to our chest. Strollers just push your baby away from you. It's not nurturing. I want to nurture. Someone mentioned netting for a stroller. No. Netting and stroller covers would just create an environment of sensory deprivation for our budding genius. Griffin piped in with something about how we are going to let our kid get bitten by bugs and it would be good for her. Not what I was thinking, but okay, that too.
Next came the bouncy-plastic-noisy-walker-rolly things. Don't need one of those. These walker things actually retard your baby from learning to walk. Who needs to balance on your fat, sloppy pins when you can just tip-toe around in your baby-wheelchair? They are also another hunk of plastic that I don't want to contribute to the landfills. I won't even mention the appalling plastic gee-gaws and doo-hickeys that blink and beep and whine which are attached to the fronts of these things. Not going to mention it.
On to car seats, you know I have that one all sewn up. The one model I picked was on display. No one seemed too impressed. "It's got the highest crash rating," I pointed out. Not much of a reaction. No zapping here. The other model I picked wasn't on display. I guess it's not that popular. Next aisle, highchairs, got that one covered too. Did my research. Done. Our model wasn't on display. What a surprise, I didn't pick a popular model here either, but it was highly rated by many parents. I also watched a cool video on Youtube that clinched it for me. Its called a Boon Flair - looks like it is from the Jetsons. I liked it. I wish it came in my size.
A few aisles later. Cribs and cradles. Days ago I picked out a crib on the Pottery Barn Kids website when I registered there. I was not going to mess around with a cheap crib that would entrap my only offspring while we slept. Again, I was not surprised to see that the cradle I picked wasn't on display. I can pick 'em. Obscure and unpopular? - my top choice!
We looked at crib mobiles. It can be good stimulation for the baby to have something to look up at while it's trapped in its sleeping quarters, however, every mobile came with a tinny music box inside that sounded like a demented clown looking for a victim. I do not need this soundtrack in my peaceful home. I zapped one I thought was silent, but turned out, I was wrong - I missed the fine print. It played 'Brahm's Lullaby'. I'm sure it sounds just as he intended.
We zapped some crib sheets. A few sleep sacks. Some velcro assisted swaddling cloths. And stumbled into the 'toy' aisles. Yikes! Can you say 'made in China' ten-times fast? Everything looked like it was made of plutonium. It was all neon and glowing. I explained that I didn't want the kid chewing on anything so freakishly unnatural looking. Are we to assume that all of these 'toys' have been tested for their chemical make-up? Am I to entrust the health of my little grub to the people who added melamine to baby formula to save a few bucks? No thanks. I decided to look for more organic toys online when we got home.
Finally, the moment we all have been waiting for - baby duds. Teeny-tiny, little outfits that will fit our kid for what? A week? A month? Well, at least we could have some fun here, right? Apparently, girls need to be dressed in pink. I scoffed as my mother-in-law as she picked out pink nighties, pink dresses, pink twin-sets and pink fluffy things. Griffin found a cute outfit with monkeys on it. That's for boys! Monsters - boys! Skulls - boys! Robots, puppies and peace signs? Boys, boys, boys. I drew the line at peace signs and zapped them. Griffin found a pair of rain boots with a skull and cross-bone pattern. I zapped 'em. Booties with funny little monsters on the toes. Zapped 'em. What does it matter what you dress your wee one in? Might as well have fun right?
We finished up and returned to the registry desk to give back the zapper. The lady confirmed that we were having a girl and promptly told us that we had accidentally selected boys' booties. It was the monster booties. I defended our choice to the woman. It was late, she didn't care. She left it on the list. We finished up and left. We zapped 24 items. I planned on removing the 'miszappings' when we got home. So, maybe 20 items? But I learned an important lesson . . . it's always important to - wait, I didn't learn any important lessons. It was still an entertaining evening for me, although I fear my in-laws think I am really nuts now.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
The Importance of a Role Model
20 Weeks, 2 days
Let me start off by saying last night Griffin felt Piper move for the first time. It was pretty wonderful for both of us, maybe for Piper too. I have been feeling her moving for quite some time and I always mention it to Griffin when she is particularly active. Last night while were were watching Nip/Tuck (we don't have cable or satellite - the only TV watching we do is on DVD and only at night) Piper was rolling around after I finished eating. I said "Piper says 'Hi' ". Griffin then rested his hand on by belly to feel her for the first time. Within 5 minutes we both felt her bump. He really looked shocked, happy, ecstatic. I think he is starting to feel more secure that the pregnancy will actually going to term.
On to the Importance of a Role Model. I knew from many pregnancies ago that the nursery would need a 'theme'. My wonderful mother-in-law had brought it up from time to time and I know she wants to have a baby shower for us. I love animals, art, nature, simplicity and classic literature. Although a lot of my art tends to be funny, weird and sometimes disturbing, I also love beautiful, classic watercolors and struggle to work in the medium as my mind pictures it.
Since I was a young child I loved to draw and paint animals: my pets, animals I saw outside and those in books. Griffin and I watched the movie Miss Potter last year and I fell in love. I brought it in to show my students. They had mixed reactions. I taught them to work with ink and watercolor just as Beatrix Potter had. Last year wasn't a huge success, but I did the same lesson again this year with wonderful results. I didn't get to show them the movie - but I will. I just taught them the technique. I did talk about Beatrix Potter and her life. I realized that I saw her as a wonderful role model as an artist, writer, and woman.
There aren't a lot of role models for young women these days. Not the type that I would want my daughter to emulate, but Beatrix Potter is a perfect exception. Okay, so she died in 1943, but her life, her work and her ambition are something to be admired.
She was an amazing artist who started drawing at a young age. Her love of animals flowed into her art, just as mine had when I was a child. She was a clever writer with an amazing imagination and her books are still loved around the world. I believe they are the best selling children's books ever. She was an intelligent, passionate, self-made woman that was strong and courageous. She defied society's rules to live life as she chose. Her life was filled with joy and pain and triumph. She was a naturalist and environmentalist. She had her 4000 acre farm donated to the National Trust in England to help retain unspoiled, undeveloped land the UK. Really, there isn't much I don't admire about her.
So when it came to choosing a theme for our nursery, it came to me at once - Beatrix Potter. I will enjoy reading the stories to Piper, and then teaching her to love animals and to draw and paint them. And I will, in time, teach her about what it means to be a strong young woman with a good role model. like Miss Potter.
Let me start off by saying last night Griffin felt Piper move for the first time. It was pretty wonderful for both of us, maybe for Piper too. I have been feeling her moving for quite some time and I always mention it to Griffin when she is particularly active. Last night while were were watching Nip/Tuck (we don't have cable or satellite - the only TV watching we do is on DVD and only at night) Piper was rolling around after I finished eating. I said "Piper says 'Hi' ". Griffin then rested his hand on by belly to feel her for the first time. Within 5 minutes we both felt her bump. He really looked shocked, happy, ecstatic. I think he is starting to feel more secure that the pregnancy will actually going to term.
On to the Importance of a Role Model. I knew from many pregnancies ago that the nursery would need a 'theme'. My wonderful mother-in-law had brought it up from time to time and I know she wants to have a baby shower for us. I love animals, art, nature, simplicity and classic literature. Although a lot of my art tends to be funny, weird and sometimes disturbing, I also love beautiful, classic watercolors and struggle to work in the medium as my mind pictures it.
Since I was a young child I loved to draw and paint animals: my pets, animals I saw outside and those in books. Griffin and I watched the movie Miss Potter last year and I fell in love. I brought it in to show my students. They had mixed reactions. I taught them to work with ink and watercolor just as Beatrix Potter had. Last year wasn't a huge success, but I did the same lesson again this year with wonderful results. I didn't get to show them the movie - but I will. I just taught them the technique. I did talk about Beatrix Potter and her life. I realized that I saw her as a wonderful role model as an artist, writer, and woman.
There aren't a lot of role models for young women these days. Not the type that I would want my daughter to emulate, but Beatrix Potter is a perfect exception. Okay, so she died in 1943, but her life, her work and her ambition are something to be admired.
She was an amazing artist who started drawing at a young age. Her love of animals flowed into her art, just as mine had when I was a child. She was a clever writer with an amazing imagination and her books are still loved around the world. I believe they are the best selling children's books ever. She was an intelligent, passionate, self-made woman that was strong and courageous. She defied society's rules to live life as she chose. Her life was filled with joy and pain and triumph. She was a naturalist and environmentalist. She had her 4000 acre farm donated to the National Trust in England to help retain unspoiled, undeveloped land the UK. Really, there isn't much I don't admire about her.
So when it came to choosing a theme for our nursery, it came to me at once - Beatrix Potter. I will enjoy reading the stories to Piper, and then teaching her to love animals and to draw and paint them. And I will, in time, teach her about what it means to be a strong young woman with a good role model. like Miss Potter.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Uncharted Waters
20 Weeks, 1 day
Well we are past the halfway point, and we are in new territory here. One day past the 'old record'. I have almost been holding my breath the last few days waiting for something to happen. Nothing did. Everything has been smooth and normal. That word has be getting used a lot lately, normal.
Most of my life I have despised the word normal and ever being associated with it. It's right up there with 'average' and 'ordinary'. Most things about me and in my life have not been normal. I don't do things the way the average person does. My thinking is usually contrary to the common public. My creations are often considered weird, bizarre and creepy. Those who have been to our house will agree. And yet, here we have this creation rolling around inside me and I am so happy to be normal!
Griffin and I have been doing a lot of taking in regards to how we will raise little Piper. That won't be normal. Actually, I am afraid that her interactions with the outside world might 'normalize' her too much. Griffin and I are in total agreement when it comes to virtually every aspect of the rearing process and its lack of normalcy. It won't be easy, but we are both stubborn and driven.
Here are a few things that we plan on doing and not doing: using only cloth diapers, breast feeding, feeding only organic animal products - possibly lacto-ovo vegetarian until she is old enough to choose, no TV, no weird kids music - we will raise her on real music good old fashioned rock-n-roll, no Dora or Elmo or nouveau animated whatevers, no fast food, no materialism, no Chrismas (at least no santa, piles of gifts and tons of greed - the family gatherings are fine), no believing in fairy tales - no easter bunny, tooth fairy, monsters in your closet, no god, no ghosts, no heaven, no angels, no devil, no SANTA - we do not want to lie to her only to have to tell her the truth later.
Ok, you think we are nuts. What will we do with her?
Read to her, play with her, go outside and do stuff, garden, dig in the dirt, look at the plants and wild creatures, have a love and respect for nature, help her become curious about the world, take her to 'real' places like the shore and national parks (not the ball pit a Chuckie Cheese), feed her real food - we eat vegetarian at home (I am not opposed to letting her eat meat, but it must be organic meat if we go that route, the commercial meat industry is horrific). We will help foster creativity and a love of learning, a desire to try to do things even when they are hard or frustrating. We will travel with her and show her as much of the world as we can. Encourage her to appreciate life at all moments, not just looking forward and waiting for something to happen. (I need to work on that one these days!) Griffin and I don't do things just because they are easy, but because they are right and they add something to our lives. We want her to have experiences that will help her grow into a person she will be proud to be. Since we are putting all of our eggs in one basket, we want to do this right. At least what is right in our minds.
Okay, okay, I am getting ahead of myself. We have to make it through the next 20 weeks....
Well we are past the halfway point, and we are in new territory here. One day past the 'old record'. I have almost been holding my breath the last few days waiting for something to happen. Nothing did. Everything has been smooth and normal. That word has be getting used a lot lately, normal.
Most of my life I have despised the word normal and ever being associated with it. It's right up there with 'average' and 'ordinary'. Most things about me and in my life have not been normal. I don't do things the way the average person does. My thinking is usually contrary to the common public. My creations are often considered weird, bizarre and creepy. Those who have been to our house will agree. And yet, here we have this creation rolling around inside me and I am so happy to be normal!
Griffin and I have been doing a lot of taking in regards to how we will raise little Piper. That won't be normal. Actually, I am afraid that her interactions with the outside world might 'normalize' her too much. Griffin and I are in total agreement when it comes to virtually every aspect of the rearing process and its lack of normalcy. It won't be easy, but we are both stubborn and driven.
Here are a few things that we plan on doing and not doing: using only cloth diapers, breast feeding, feeding only organic animal products - possibly lacto-ovo vegetarian until she is old enough to choose, no TV, no weird kids music - we will raise her on real music good old fashioned rock-n-roll, no Dora or Elmo or nouveau animated whatevers, no fast food, no materialism, no Chrismas (at least no santa, piles of gifts and tons of greed - the family gatherings are fine), no believing in fairy tales - no easter bunny, tooth fairy, monsters in your closet, no god, no ghosts, no heaven, no angels, no devil, no SANTA - we do not want to lie to her only to have to tell her the truth later.
Ok, you think we are nuts. What will we do with her?
Read to her, play with her, go outside and do stuff, garden, dig in the dirt, look at the plants and wild creatures, have a love and respect for nature, help her become curious about the world, take her to 'real' places like the shore and national parks (not the ball pit a Chuckie Cheese), feed her real food - we eat vegetarian at home (I am not opposed to letting her eat meat, but it must be organic meat if we go that route, the commercial meat industry is horrific). We will help foster creativity and a love of learning, a desire to try to do things even when they are hard or frustrating. We will travel with her and show her as much of the world as we can. Encourage her to appreciate life at all moments, not just looking forward and waiting for something to happen. (I need to work on that one these days!) Griffin and I don't do things just because they are easy, but because they are right and they add something to our lives. We want her to have experiences that will help her grow into a person she will be proud to be. Since we are putting all of our eggs in one basket, we want to do this right. At least what is right in our minds.
Okay, okay, I am getting ahead of myself. We have to make it through the next 20 weeks....
Monday, January 11, 2010
The Noah's Ark of Baby Anatomy
19 weeks, 3 days
The pieces and parts all come in two by twos. Two arms, two legs, two feet, two hands, two kidneys, two eyes - okay so there was only one brain and one heart, but two parts to the brain and four chambers to the heart so that is like two times two. What I am trying to say is everything looked perfectly normal on today's scan. It was an unremarkable level II ultrasound. Nothing they saw was of any concern, it all looked normal.
I have never been so happy to be normal, well as Griffin pointed out, Piper is normal - not me. It was great to hear. Even my amniotic fluid looked normal. It seems like this whole baby thing might actually happen for us.
I thought it would be a huge weight off of me today, but we are still not out of the woods. I must continue to get my cervix measured every two weeks and I have a home health care nurse come in to give me a shot of progesterone every week. Not until the baby would be viable outside of my body will be even nearing the edge of the woods. That is at 24 weeks. A little more than 4 weeks from now. Even at 24 weeks, a baby born that early would so delicate I don't like to think about it.
I know I just have to take things day by day and be happy that everything is going so well. I have many things to look forward to, but I want to try to enjoy the little milestones. Today was a good one. We never got to this scan before. Friday will be 20 weeks. The halfway point and the end point of the last pregnancy. That will be another milestone that I am looking forward to putting behind me. I know it will come and go so quickly, but right now it feels like time is dragging.
Let's see what tomorrow holds.
The pieces and parts all come in two by twos. Two arms, two legs, two feet, two hands, two kidneys, two eyes - okay so there was only one brain and one heart, but two parts to the brain and four chambers to the heart so that is like two times two. What I am trying to say is everything looked perfectly normal on today's scan. It was an unremarkable level II ultrasound. Nothing they saw was of any concern, it all looked normal.
I have never been so happy to be normal, well as Griffin pointed out, Piper is normal - not me. It was great to hear. Even my amniotic fluid looked normal. It seems like this whole baby thing might actually happen for us.
I thought it would be a huge weight off of me today, but we are still not out of the woods. I must continue to get my cervix measured every two weeks and I have a home health care nurse come in to give me a shot of progesterone every week. Not until the baby would be viable outside of my body will be even nearing the edge of the woods. That is at 24 weeks. A little more than 4 weeks from now. Even at 24 weeks, a baby born that early would so delicate I don't like to think about it.
I know I just have to take things day by day and be happy that everything is going so well. I have many things to look forward to, but I want to try to enjoy the little milestones. Today was a good one. We never got to this scan before. Friday will be 20 weeks. The halfway point and the end point of the last pregnancy. That will be another milestone that I am looking forward to putting behind me. I know it will come and go so quickly, but right now it feels like time is dragging.
Let's see what tomorrow holds.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
The Waiting Game
19 weeks, 2 days
Well, I am in uncharted territory here. Tomorrow is our level II ultrasound. This procedure was scheduled with the promed pregnancy last summer, but we never got there. You might think that I am jumping for joy to be this far along, and I am in many ways, but I am also apprehensive.
I don't believe in Karma or 'deserving' something good when you have suffered much. Not really. I try to always treat others in a way that I would want to be treated. It's not exactly because I think good things will come back to me, but because as Griffin often says, it's the right thing to do. I do believe that if you are cruel, mean or deceptive for evil reasons it could come around and bite you in the ass. But this has more to do with the fact that if you treat someone poorly, when given the chance, they may do the same to you.
Just because you have had a tough life or tragic events occur doesn't mean that your turn will come to have everything go your way. Life is a series of random events, the only thing that you can control is how you react to them. If I was the type of person to sit around thinking that I 'deserve' everything to be okay on tomorrow's scan and everything is not okay, I might then think that I have not suffered enough to deserve this. I, however, being a rational person know that even though I have suffered plenty and yet that has no bearing on whether I will suffer more.
So, I don't think that I 'deserve' to have normal pregnancy and everything should be hunky-dory just because I suffered all that I did in the past. Perhaps it is the pessimist in me, but I find myself waiting for what will go wrong. It's as if there is no way that things could just be fine and normal and that in four and a half months I will pop out a perfect little grub. Let me make this clear: this is not my typical attitude.
Normally, I am a pretty positive person. I believe whatever will be will be and that generally everything will be just fine. I could be the poster child for not being able to control what happens in your life and adjusting. Recover and adapt are natural reactions now. This goes way beyond pregnancies and miscarriages. The only thing you can control is your reaction to what happens.
I try to take everything in stride and feel like there isn't anything I can't handle. That doesn't mean I won't be upset, cry or breakdown at the time, but it is temporary and life must go on. This was why I couldn't give up when the last pregnancy ended. The heartbreak was awful, but life goes on and we heal. The emotional scar tissue may make you stronger, but it may also make you feel less the next time. This is where I am.
Feeling a bit detached, excited but preparing myself for the worst, I will try to keep myself busy for the next 30 hours. Until I hear that everything is looking just fine, I will try to occupy myself with non-pregnancy related activities.
I did a lot of Googling this morning on the 'level II ultrasound'. I already had done some some research on it last summer, but I wanted to refresh my memory and see if anything new popped up. I did not see much of particular interest. Most everything was as I expected. They will look for any abnormalities in the head, body and organs. However, one interesting bit of information was that there is a 70 to 80% chance that they will find a problem, if one exists, using this type of ultrasound as opposed to a 20 to 30% chance using the standard level I ultrasound.
What does this mean for us? Well, just because the last 5 or 6 ultrasounds were fine, that doesn't mean there isn't something lurking that could be uncovered tomorrow. I am prepared. I can handle anything. And if I can't handle it, Griffin will be there to hold me.
Well, I am in uncharted territory here. Tomorrow is our level II ultrasound. This procedure was scheduled with the promed pregnancy last summer, but we never got there. You might think that I am jumping for joy to be this far along, and I am in many ways, but I am also apprehensive.
I don't believe in Karma or 'deserving' something good when you have suffered much. Not really. I try to always treat others in a way that I would want to be treated. It's not exactly because I think good things will come back to me, but because as Griffin often says, it's the right thing to do. I do believe that if you are cruel, mean or deceptive for evil reasons it could come around and bite you in the ass. But this has more to do with the fact that if you treat someone poorly, when given the chance, they may do the same to you.
Just because you have had a tough life or tragic events occur doesn't mean that your turn will come to have everything go your way. Life is a series of random events, the only thing that you can control is how you react to them. If I was the type of person to sit around thinking that I 'deserve' everything to be okay on tomorrow's scan and everything is not okay, I might then think that I have not suffered enough to deserve this. I, however, being a rational person know that even though I have suffered plenty and yet that has no bearing on whether I will suffer more.
So, I don't think that I 'deserve' to have normal pregnancy and everything should be hunky-dory just because I suffered all that I did in the past. Perhaps it is the pessimist in me, but I find myself waiting for what will go wrong. It's as if there is no way that things could just be fine and normal and that in four and a half months I will pop out a perfect little grub. Let me make this clear: this is not my typical attitude.
Normally, I am a pretty positive person. I believe whatever will be will be and that generally everything will be just fine. I could be the poster child for not being able to control what happens in your life and adjusting. Recover and adapt are natural reactions now. This goes way beyond pregnancies and miscarriages. The only thing you can control is your reaction to what happens.
I try to take everything in stride and feel like there isn't anything I can't handle. That doesn't mean I won't be upset, cry or breakdown at the time, but it is temporary and life must go on. This was why I couldn't give up when the last pregnancy ended. The heartbreak was awful, but life goes on and we heal. The emotional scar tissue may make you stronger, but it may also make you feel less the next time. This is where I am.
Feeling a bit detached, excited but preparing myself for the worst, I will try to keep myself busy for the next 30 hours. Until I hear that everything is looking just fine, I will try to occupy myself with non-pregnancy related activities.
I did a lot of Googling this morning on the 'level II ultrasound'. I already had done some some research on it last summer, but I wanted to refresh my memory and see if anything new popped up. I did not see much of particular interest. Most everything was as I expected. They will look for any abnormalities in the head, body and organs. However, one interesting bit of information was that there is a 70 to 80% chance that they will find a problem, if one exists, using this type of ultrasound as opposed to a 20 to 30% chance using the standard level I ultrasound.
What does this mean for us? Well, just because the last 5 or 6 ultrasounds were fine, that doesn't mean there isn't something lurking that could be uncovered tomorrow. I am prepared. I can handle anything. And if I can't handle it, Griffin will be there to hold me.
Friday, January 8, 2010
The Bump
19 weeks
I spend far too much time thinking about my bump. I did not really have much of a bump with the last pregnancy due to the lack of fluid to take up space in my uterus. Now, there is clearly a bump, but is it the right size? In the right place? How come I can't feel my fundus?
If you Google 'pregnancy week-by-week' you will find photos of women showing off their pregnant bellies. This strikes me as rather strange. I guess I can see the appeal of photographing your progress through pregnancy, but I can't understand why they would post them on the internet. I feel like it is almost improper to be looking at them. It's a bit voyeuristic for me.
My bump takes on many forms depending on the moment. If I am standing normally, it sticks out a bit like 1/4 of a soccer ball. If I really relax I can get nearly half of a soccer ball bump to pop out. I can stand with good posture and it sticks straight out or if I slump my shoulders it points down. I can get my belly to wave if I go back and forth a bunch of times. I wonder if Piper enjoys the ride? If I suck in my gut it looks like a weird, rippled lumpy belly. Not at all attractive. I don't do that one a lot.
The best part of my bump is the rolling feeling that I get when she moves. I did not have this last time because the lack of fluid kept the fetus from being able to move much. But now it feels like I am on a roller coaster doing whoop-de-dos. I rather enjoy it and am looking forward to when Griffin can experience this too.
When I tell him that I can feel her move he sounds excited, but it is still abstract for him. I think when he can feel her move on the outside it will become more real. Of course at that point I think she may feel like a crazed jack-rabbit to me instead of the pleasant rolling feel. We shall see.
I spend far too much time thinking about my bump. I did not really have much of a bump with the last pregnancy due to the lack of fluid to take up space in my uterus. Now, there is clearly a bump, but is it the right size? In the right place? How come I can't feel my fundus?
If you Google 'pregnancy week-by-week' you will find photos of women showing off their pregnant bellies. This strikes me as rather strange. I guess I can see the appeal of photographing your progress through pregnancy, but I can't understand why they would post them on the internet. I feel like it is almost improper to be looking at them. It's a bit voyeuristic for me.
My bump takes on many forms depending on the moment. If I am standing normally, it sticks out a bit like 1/4 of a soccer ball. If I really relax I can get nearly half of a soccer ball bump to pop out. I can stand with good posture and it sticks straight out or if I slump my shoulders it points down. I can get my belly to wave if I go back and forth a bunch of times. I wonder if Piper enjoys the ride? If I suck in my gut it looks like a weird, rippled lumpy belly. Not at all attractive. I don't do that one a lot.
The best part of my bump is the rolling feeling that I get when she moves. I did not have this last time because the lack of fluid kept the fetus from being able to move much. But now it feels like I am on a roller coaster doing whoop-de-dos. I rather enjoy it and am looking forward to when Griffin can experience this too.
When I tell him that I can feel her move he sounds excited, but it is still abstract for him. I think when he can feel her move on the outside it will become more real. Of course at that point I think she may feel like a crazed jack-rabbit to me instead of the pleasant rolling feel. We shall see.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Out of Gas
18 weeks, 5 days
I knew I was getting low on gas when I left this morning. I got to work and made a mental note to fill up the Mini on the way home. It is about 20 miles from work to home and my warning light turned on the way to work. I have had this car for 5 years and thought I had a good feel for how far I could push it. I was wrong.
I kept looking at the red light, but the gas gauge wasn't budging. I thought I would be able to make it. As I drove up the final and largest hill on the last stretch of highway near my home, my car sputtered and stalled. I was in the left lane and made it across the other 2 lanes to get to the shoulder on the right. My heart was pounding.
I put the car in part and debated what to do. Call AAA? They would take forever to get to me. Call Griffin? He had run out of gas when I was with him in his old Landcruser. We were 1/4 mile from the gas station and he had to push it while I steered. It was hysterical. I knew I had to swallow my pride and call him.
Without as much as a snicker, he told me he would go get some gas and find me. Within 25 minutes he arrived. He put 2 gallons in my tank and the car started right up. I thanked him, he told me he'd see me at home and he hopped back in his truck.
When I got home, I thanked him again and I admitted my mistake. He still didn't snicker at me. I love Griffin.
I knew I was getting low on gas when I left this morning. I got to work and made a mental note to fill up the Mini on the way home. It is about 20 miles from work to home and my warning light turned on the way to work. I have had this car for 5 years and thought I had a good feel for how far I could push it. I was wrong.
I kept looking at the red light, but the gas gauge wasn't budging. I thought I would be able to make it. As I drove up the final and largest hill on the last stretch of highway near my home, my car sputtered and stalled. I was in the left lane and made it across the other 2 lanes to get to the shoulder on the right. My heart was pounding.
I put the car in part and debated what to do. Call AAA? They would take forever to get to me. Call Griffin? He had run out of gas when I was with him in his old Landcruser. We were 1/4 mile from the gas station and he had to push it while I steered. It was hysterical. I knew I had to swallow my pride and call him.
Without as much as a snicker, he told me he would go get some gas and find me. Within 25 minutes he arrived. He put 2 gallons in my tank and the car started right up. I thanked him, he told me he'd see me at home and he hopped back in his truck.
When I got home, I thanked him again and I admitted my mistake. He still didn't snicker at me. I love Griffin.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Thank You For Calling, Please Hold
18 Weeks, 4 Days
It's not my fear of the unknown that keeps me from shouting joyfully about my pregnancy. Instead, it is my fear of the past repeating itself that gives me pause. Griffin has the same affliction, perhaps even worse than I do. We both feel like we are waiting, our lives on hold, hoping for the best but preparing for the worst.
I got lucky in the in-law department when I married Griffin. His parents are wonderful people. His mother is one of the kindest, most generous people I know and her excitement about our potential offspring is so contagious I almost forget about my fearful waiting - almost.
We had dinner at their house last night. It was a relaxing evening for us. We all chatted about daily events, made jokes and, of course, talked about the pregnancy. My mother-in-law wanted to know if I still wanted to have a baby shower. We had a date picked for the last pregnancy and I think she had even begun the organization when I PROMed and it all went down the tubes.
Although I tend to loathe 'showers', I know she wants to have one for us and I think it could be fun. The worst part of a shower for me is the hours of gift opening with people oooo-ing and cooooo-ing over each gift as they are gingerly unwrapped and the item is held up for all to see. If this process could be streamlined and less gooey, the rest of it would be fine with me. I like food and drinks . . . oh, wait . . . I wouldn't be able to have the drinks. Well, anyhow.
I felt it was necessary to have the date for the shower very far out and closer to my due date, June 5th. Just the thought of having a shower with all those people and all those gifts and then lose the pregnancy afterward, I think I might implode. It saddens me how little faith I have in everything going well and having a happy ending. I don't trust my own body.
There are other decisions I can't make while my life is on hold: what to do on summer vacation, when to start turning the spare bedroom into a nursery, when to talk to a midwife or doula and if we will even go that route. I just can't get myself to commit to things that would have to be undone if this pregnancy is undone and so I wait, our lives on hold.
It's not my fear of the unknown that keeps me from shouting joyfully about my pregnancy. Instead, it is my fear of the past repeating itself that gives me pause. Griffin has the same affliction, perhaps even worse than I do. We both feel like we are waiting, our lives on hold, hoping for the best but preparing for the worst.
I got lucky in the in-law department when I married Griffin. His parents are wonderful people. His mother is one of the kindest, most generous people I know and her excitement about our potential offspring is so contagious I almost forget about my fearful waiting - almost.
We had dinner at their house last night. It was a relaxing evening for us. We all chatted about daily events, made jokes and, of course, talked about the pregnancy. My mother-in-law wanted to know if I still wanted to have a baby shower. We had a date picked for the last pregnancy and I think she had even begun the organization when I PROMed and it all went down the tubes.
Although I tend to loathe 'showers', I know she wants to have one for us and I think it could be fun. The worst part of a shower for me is the hours of gift opening with people oooo-ing and cooooo-ing over each gift as they are gingerly unwrapped and the item is held up for all to see. If this process could be streamlined and less gooey, the rest of it would be fine with me. I like food and drinks . . . oh, wait . . . I wouldn't be able to have the drinks. Well, anyhow.
I felt it was necessary to have the date for the shower very far out and closer to my due date, June 5th. Just the thought of having a shower with all those people and all those gifts and then lose the pregnancy afterward, I think I might implode. It saddens me how little faith I have in everything going well and having a happy ending. I don't trust my own body.
There are other decisions I can't make while my life is on hold: what to do on summer vacation, when to start turning the spare bedroom into a nursery, when to talk to a midwife or doula and if we will even go that route. I just can't get myself to commit to things that would have to be undone if this pregnancy is undone and so I wait, our lives on hold.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Is She Just Getting Fat or Is She . . . ?
18 Weeks, 3 Days
Back to the grind today. I love my job teaching high school art; it always keeps me on my toes. At this stage in my pregnancy I am starting to seriously look pregnant. Or perhaps just quite fat. Although we had felt that 17 weeks was the right time to tell our friends and family about the pregnancy, I am still holding out on announcing it at school.
I am not what you would call a snappy dresser. I am a jeans and t-shirt kind of girl and when the temperature drops, I am a jeans and sweater kind of girl. My puffy body looks less than smashing in a pair of jeans these days, even the low cut ones. In fact it looks as if my 'muffin top' has grown a 'muffin top'. If you don't know what that is, Google it, but I warn you, it won't be pretty.
Last summer I had developed a weird habit that I can't seem to break. I was just starting to show at around 17 weeks; this was near the same time that we got the bad news. I didn't want anyone else to find out I was pregnant if I was going to lose it anyhow, so I started holding in my belly or sucking in my gut, if you will. I think I was ashamed of losing the pregnancy and didn't want to draw any attention it.
In addition, I was in a constant state of kegel as I subconsciously tried to preserve any amniotic fluid that I could. Part of me was always determined to 'fix' the problem right up to the very end. The kegeling I gave up rather quickly after the D&E, but the gut sucking has stuck with me. Now I can't seem to stop. Its exhausting and sometimes I forget to breathe. Dizzy blonde am I.
During a blissfully ignorant moment during my last pregnancy, Griffin and I took a trip to Old Navy Maternity. It was in June, so I bought a bunch of summery tops and a few casual bottoms thinking I would be plumping up all summer. They were ditched in July into the back of a little used drawer. I had put the maternity clothes out of sight because they were just a cruel reminder of my most recent failure. Never had I thought that I would need them again so soon.
By 15 weeks no amount of gut sucking was going to get me into a pair of jeans (but it didn't stop me from doing it). In my desperation to decompress and get out of my not so stretchy stretch jeans, I started to dig in my maternity drawer. So the last few weeks I have been strolling into work wearing comfy sweaters and maternity yoga pants. My body now says "aaaaah". The thing is, my belly was not so noticeable before Christmas break, but boy it is now! My yoga pants and sweater were not what people were looking at today at school.
Actually, I was rather amused by the looks I was getting. I tend to walk around my classroom and half-sit, half-lean my butt on a table when talking to students individually. In this position my belly looks like I am trying to smuggle a bowling ball under my sweater. My students' eyes slowly drift to my round waistline and then back up. I know what they are wondering, but I still am not prepared to announce anything to them yet. Let them wonder. It's good for them.
I also haven't told the head of personnel at school. Last May I scheduled a meeting with him to announce my pregnancy at 13 weeks. I was so excited. We filled out paperwork and determined how much time I would need to take off. He congratulated me over and over and sent me home with some papers for my doctor to fill out. I never got the chance to have my OB fill out that paperwork. It hung on our refrigerator until after the procedure. I remember the empty feeling I had when I took it down and threw it out.
I emailed the head of personnel and informed him that we had lost the pregnancy and I would not need the maternity leave. He never responded. I saw him a couple of months ago on a school matter and he didn't ask how I was doing. I guess he forgot.
My waiting to tell him now is for two reasons. First, I want to make sure that everything is truly OK with this pregnancy (and perhaps not jinx it) and second, I am simply avoiding looking like a fool. In my mind, if something goes wrong this time too and I have to tell him again that I don't need the maternity leave, I fear he will think I am a nut job. Of course he wouldn't, you are thinking, but I can't help how I feel. I am protecting myself.
Today we got the results of the Alpha Fetal Protein blood test. This is the test that came back irregular during the last pregnancy and alerted the doctors to look for the problem. This time the test is normal! I am so relieved. It is a huge milestone for me, for us.
Next Monday we are scheduled for an anatomy scan which is a level II ultrasound. This is the big one, where they look for any defects or problems that were not seen on other tests. Last time we were scheduled for this test, but never got there. I never canceled it either, I guess they figured it out.
During this ultrasound they will examine the heart, kidneys, bladder, stomach, brain and spine and check that the bambino is growing properly. After this test, I may feel secure enough to tell my students and just maybe, the head of personnel too.
Back to the grind today. I love my job teaching high school art; it always keeps me on my toes. At this stage in my pregnancy I am starting to seriously look pregnant. Or perhaps just quite fat. Although we had felt that 17 weeks was the right time to tell our friends and family about the pregnancy, I am still holding out on announcing it at school.
I am not what you would call a snappy dresser. I am a jeans and t-shirt kind of girl and when the temperature drops, I am a jeans and sweater kind of girl. My puffy body looks less than smashing in a pair of jeans these days, even the low cut ones. In fact it looks as if my 'muffin top' has grown a 'muffin top'. If you don't know what that is, Google it, but I warn you, it won't be pretty.
Last summer I had developed a weird habit that I can't seem to break. I was just starting to show at around 17 weeks; this was near the same time that we got the bad news. I didn't want anyone else to find out I was pregnant if I was going to lose it anyhow, so I started holding in my belly or sucking in my gut, if you will. I think I was ashamed of losing the pregnancy and didn't want to draw any attention it.
In addition, I was in a constant state of kegel as I subconsciously tried to preserve any amniotic fluid that I could. Part of me was always determined to 'fix' the problem right up to the very end. The kegeling I gave up rather quickly after the D&E, but the gut sucking has stuck with me. Now I can't seem to stop. Its exhausting and sometimes I forget to breathe. Dizzy blonde am I.
During a blissfully ignorant moment during my last pregnancy, Griffin and I took a trip to Old Navy Maternity. It was in June, so I bought a bunch of summery tops and a few casual bottoms thinking I would be plumping up all summer. They were ditched in July into the back of a little used drawer. I had put the maternity clothes out of sight because they were just a cruel reminder of my most recent failure. Never had I thought that I would need them again so soon.
By 15 weeks no amount of gut sucking was going to get me into a pair of jeans (but it didn't stop me from doing it). In my desperation to decompress and get out of my not so stretchy stretch jeans, I started to dig in my maternity drawer. So the last few weeks I have been strolling into work wearing comfy sweaters and maternity yoga pants. My body now says "aaaaah". The thing is, my belly was not so noticeable before Christmas break, but boy it is now! My yoga pants and sweater were not what people were looking at today at school.
Actually, I was rather amused by the looks I was getting. I tend to walk around my classroom and half-sit, half-lean my butt on a table when talking to students individually. In this position my belly looks like I am trying to smuggle a bowling ball under my sweater. My students' eyes slowly drift to my round waistline and then back up. I know what they are wondering, but I still am not prepared to announce anything to them yet. Let them wonder. It's good for them.
I also haven't told the head of personnel at school. Last May I scheduled a meeting with him to announce my pregnancy at 13 weeks. I was so excited. We filled out paperwork and determined how much time I would need to take off. He congratulated me over and over and sent me home with some papers for my doctor to fill out. I never got the chance to have my OB fill out that paperwork. It hung on our refrigerator until after the procedure. I remember the empty feeling I had when I took it down and threw it out.
I emailed the head of personnel and informed him that we had lost the pregnancy and I would not need the maternity leave. He never responded. I saw him a couple of months ago on a school matter and he didn't ask how I was doing. I guess he forgot.
My waiting to tell him now is for two reasons. First, I want to make sure that everything is truly OK with this pregnancy (and perhaps not jinx it) and second, I am simply avoiding looking like a fool. In my mind, if something goes wrong this time too and I have to tell him again that I don't need the maternity leave, I fear he will think I am a nut job. Of course he wouldn't, you are thinking, but I can't help how I feel. I am protecting myself.
Today we got the results of the Alpha Fetal Protein blood test. This is the test that came back irregular during the last pregnancy and alerted the doctors to look for the problem. This time the test is normal! I am so relieved. It is a huge milestone for me, for us.
Next Monday we are scheduled for an anatomy scan which is a level II ultrasound. This is the big one, where they look for any defects or problems that were not seen on other tests. Last time we were scheduled for this test, but never got there. I never canceled it either, I guess they figured it out.
During this ultrasound they will examine the heart, kidneys, bladder, stomach, brain and spine and check that the bambino is growing properly. After this test, I may feel secure enough to tell my students and just maybe, the head of personnel too.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Who Needs Sleep?
18 Weeks, 2 Days
For the last several months I have been falling asleep at 8:30 every evening. Griffin and I watch a DVD at night and when 8:30 comes I keel over, my eyes won't stay open and I eventually give up and say good-night. Today is my last day of Christmas break. 12 days of sleeping in and staying up "late". Last night we went to bed at 11! That is seriously late for me. I wasn't even falling asleep on the couch.
Of course, once I got into bed I couldn't fall asleep. So, as is my usual routine, I played a postcast on my iPhone. I set the timer to shut off in 58 minutes. I listened to the postcast for a while and drifted in and out. Griffin was asleep within 5 minutes. Lucky bastard. He rarely has trouble sleeping once he is in bed.
I realized that the room was silent and an hour must have passed. I dozed, but couldn't get into my sleep groove. I laid there thinking sleepily. This meant trouble.
When I wake up in the morning, my feet often hurt. Its really bad sometimes; I actually limp down the stairs until they stretch out. As I was lying awake in bed I noticed the way I was positioned: curled on my side, one leg higher than the other, one ankle resting in the arch of the foot on the other side. My foot started to ache, so I moved my legs.
Had I been sleeping like this all along? I am a 'side sleeper', and apparently I am a foot crusher as well. No wonder my feet hurt so bad in the morning. It was an amazing conclusion and I was happy to solve the mystery. Of course, now armed with this knowledge, how was I going to keep my foot and ankle away from each other?
As I lay there contemplating this I noticed they already crawled back together and my foot was aching again. Sadistic ankle! Stay away from that poor foot! I flipped over and it was payback time. The opposite foot and ankle connected without me even realizing it. I was thinking about getting a pregnancy pillow and before I knew what was happening, they were connected and my other foot was hurting.
I rolled onto my stomach and noticed that I could feel my melon-sized uterus below me. It was like laying on a small soccer ball. I rearranged my pillows, I always sleep with two, and I tried to get half on my side, half on my stomach without crushing the offspring and without letting my foot and ankle get together. I was uncomfortable.
This is going to only get worse for the next 5 months? I started to doze. One of our cats yowled on the first floor. It was Jack.
In September he had been attacked by something outside and came home with eight or nine bite wounds on his leg. After a long night at the emergency vet, I was guilted into keeping him in the house. That lasted all of two months. He yowled every night and every day. It was pitiful. We couldn't take it anymore and let him go out again. He can leave the house through the doggie-door in the basement. Very convenient.
His yowling last night was the same sound he made when he wanted to go out. Its a wounded, painful sound. I wondered if the basement door was closed, so he couldn't get out. Worse yet, I wondered if the basement door was closed so he couldn't use the litter box. I thought maybe he was outside and got attacked by something again. Maybe he was suffering from bladder stones again like he had when he was three. Maybe there was someone on the first floor sneaking around and he was trying to warn us. Maybe there were dark forces in the house planning to attack us in our sleep (We had watched Paranormal Activity the night before). Maybe that cat just needed to shut up. And he did. But I still didn't sleep.
I was now so tired that I wasn't sure that I was still awake. Perhaps I was asleep and dreaming about being awake. This troubled me. How could I be sure if I was awake or sleeping? It seemed to really matter to me. So I thought about things that I didn't think I would think about when I was sleeping. When I realized I was doing this, I thought that it was so crazy I must be sleeping, but I wasn't really sure.
I did sleep for a while and had a weird dream. I became sweaty and itchy. When the light started to creep into our room, I realized I was awake again. I felt like I hadn't slept at all. At least I was a trooper and stayed in bed. My body got some rest, even if my mind didn't.
Tomorrow I go back to work. Tonight should be fun.
For the last several months I have been falling asleep at 8:30 every evening. Griffin and I watch a DVD at night and when 8:30 comes I keel over, my eyes won't stay open and I eventually give up and say good-night. Today is my last day of Christmas break. 12 days of sleeping in and staying up "late". Last night we went to bed at 11! That is seriously late for me. I wasn't even falling asleep on the couch.
Of course, once I got into bed I couldn't fall asleep. So, as is my usual routine, I played a postcast on my iPhone. I set the timer to shut off in 58 minutes. I listened to the postcast for a while and drifted in and out. Griffin was asleep within 5 minutes. Lucky bastard. He rarely has trouble sleeping once he is in bed.
I realized that the room was silent and an hour must have passed. I dozed, but couldn't get into my sleep groove. I laid there thinking sleepily. This meant trouble.
When I wake up in the morning, my feet often hurt. Its really bad sometimes; I actually limp down the stairs until they stretch out. As I was lying awake in bed I noticed the way I was positioned: curled on my side, one leg higher than the other, one ankle resting in the arch of the foot on the other side. My foot started to ache, so I moved my legs.
Had I been sleeping like this all along? I am a 'side sleeper', and apparently I am a foot crusher as well. No wonder my feet hurt so bad in the morning. It was an amazing conclusion and I was happy to solve the mystery. Of course, now armed with this knowledge, how was I going to keep my foot and ankle away from each other?
As I lay there contemplating this I noticed they already crawled back together and my foot was aching again. Sadistic ankle! Stay away from that poor foot! I flipped over and it was payback time. The opposite foot and ankle connected without me even realizing it. I was thinking about getting a pregnancy pillow and before I knew what was happening, they were connected and my other foot was hurting.
I rolled onto my stomach and noticed that I could feel my melon-sized uterus below me. It was like laying on a small soccer ball. I rearranged my pillows, I always sleep with two, and I tried to get half on my side, half on my stomach without crushing the offspring and without letting my foot and ankle get together. I was uncomfortable.
This is going to only get worse for the next 5 months? I started to doze. One of our cats yowled on the first floor. It was Jack.
In September he had been attacked by something outside and came home with eight or nine bite wounds on his leg. After a long night at the emergency vet, I was guilted into keeping him in the house. That lasted all of two months. He yowled every night and every day. It was pitiful. We couldn't take it anymore and let him go out again. He can leave the house through the doggie-door in the basement. Very convenient.
His yowling last night was the same sound he made when he wanted to go out. Its a wounded, painful sound. I wondered if the basement door was closed, so he couldn't get out. Worse yet, I wondered if the basement door was closed so he couldn't use the litter box. I thought maybe he was outside and got attacked by something again. Maybe he was suffering from bladder stones again like he had when he was three. Maybe there was someone on the first floor sneaking around and he was trying to warn us. Maybe there were dark forces in the house planning to attack us in our sleep (We had watched Paranormal Activity the night before). Maybe that cat just needed to shut up. And he did. But I still didn't sleep.
I was now so tired that I wasn't sure that I was still awake. Perhaps I was asleep and dreaming about being awake. This troubled me. How could I be sure if I was awake or sleeping? It seemed to really matter to me. So I thought about things that I didn't think I would think about when I was sleeping. When I realized I was doing this, I thought that it was so crazy I must be sleeping, but I wasn't really sure.
I did sleep for a while and had a weird dream. I became sweaty and itchy. When the light started to creep into our room, I realized I was awake again. I felt like I hadn't slept at all. At least I was a trooper and stayed in bed. My body got some rest, even if my mind didn't.
Tomorrow I go back to work. Tonight should be fun.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Is This Normal?
18 weeks and 1 day.
Although I have been pregnant many times, the pregnancies have never been successful, and therefore, have never been 'normal'. I find that I spend a lot of time analyzing every aspect of my body especially how I feel. The little twinges, dull nagging somethings, hunger and repulsion, I make mental notes of them all.
I have read the book "What to Expect When You are Expecting" so many times that I have begun to think it is jinxed. It sits on our book shelf near me right now. I can see its curled softcover waving me in. I don't want to look at it again. I did once this pregnancy and realized it wasn't as informative as it was the first two or three times I read it. I have since done so much Googling that I actually have more information stuffed into my head than can be contained in that book.
I try not to think too much about every little thing, but I have an awful lot of time on my hands. I often wake in the middle of the night and wonder, but with my trusty iPhone at my side, I can quickly Google the random thought that popped into my head. If I try to resist and go back to sleep most times I can't. So I give in and give a Google.
Yesterday I had a pain in my side. It ran from my pubic bone to my hip bone somewhere deep inside. I recognized this as round ligament pain. I thought about how my uterus has now grown larger than it ever has before and although I have never had rock hard abs, I'm sure there are parts of me that are loath to give up their usual form.
Griffin and I are planning on going to the bookstore later today. My first thought is to get some books on raising a baby - a subject, until recent Googling, I knew nothing about. I am not a 'baby person'. I don't coo at infants in strollers, I've never changed a diaper and I've never even held a baby. Never had the desire to. I don't want to sniff their heads or pinch their fat cheeks. Yet I really want one of my own. At least I think I do. As it gets to be more real and there is no turning back (unless my body says otherwise) I am really hoping that I will fall madly in love with my creation. Everyone tells me that I will, but what do they know?
Right now, my feelings towards my 'little squirrel' are that I must protect it and make it grow and most of all - keep it inside me. (Why do I keep referring to her as an "it"?) I have not returned to the gym with Griffin since I found out I was pregnant again. I think it started with me being too tired to go, but perhaps it was more about my fear of jostling the spawn and loosing the pregnancy. I even find myself walking differently, its hard to explain, but I am somehow more careful with my footing. How can I even think about going to the gym?
This is my last chance to be a good wife, a good daughter-in-law, a good granddaughter-in-law and perhaps a good mother. I don't want to screw it up. My feelings are not about how much I love my baby, fetus, offspring, spawn - it is more like a test that I am carrying around inside me. Can I pass the test? Do everything right? Even though I know logically that I did nothing to cause the last 4 miscarriages, I can't help feeling like I was a failure. I hate failing.
So I guess I will continue to walk carefully, occasionally pause and think about how something feels, either dismiss it as 'something I understand' or do a quick Google to reassure myself, and try to hold my 'test' in for 22 more weeks or so. Is this normal?
Although I have been pregnant many times, the pregnancies have never been successful, and therefore, have never been 'normal'. I find that I spend a lot of time analyzing every aspect of my body especially how I feel. The little twinges, dull nagging somethings, hunger and repulsion, I make mental notes of them all.
I have read the book "What to Expect When You are Expecting" so many times that I have begun to think it is jinxed. It sits on our book shelf near me right now. I can see its curled softcover waving me in. I don't want to look at it again. I did once this pregnancy and realized it wasn't as informative as it was the first two or three times I read it. I have since done so much Googling that I actually have more information stuffed into my head than can be contained in that book.
I try not to think too much about every little thing, but I have an awful lot of time on my hands. I often wake in the middle of the night and wonder, but with my trusty iPhone at my side, I can quickly Google the random thought that popped into my head. If I try to resist and go back to sleep most times I can't. So I give in and give a Google.
Yesterday I had a pain in my side. It ran from my pubic bone to my hip bone somewhere deep inside. I recognized this as round ligament pain. I thought about how my uterus has now grown larger than it ever has before and although I have never had rock hard abs, I'm sure there are parts of me that are loath to give up their usual form.
Griffin and I are planning on going to the bookstore later today. My first thought is to get some books on raising a baby - a subject, until recent Googling, I knew nothing about. I am not a 'baby person'. I don't coo at infants in strollers, I've never changed a diaper and I've never even held a baby. Never had the desire to. I don't want to sniff their heads or pinch their fat cheeks. Yet I really want one of my own. At least I think I do. As it gets to be more real and there is no turning back (unless my body says otherwise) I am really hoping that I will fall madly in love with my creation. Everyone tells me that I will, but what do they know?
Right now, my feelings towards my 'little squirrel' are that I must protect it and make it grow and most of all - keep it inside me. (Why do I keep referring to her as an "it"?) I have not returned to the gym with Griffin since I found out I was pregnant again. I think it started with me being too tired to go, but perhaps it was more about my fear of jostling the spawn and loosing the pregnancy. I even find myself walking differently, its hard to explain, but I am somehow more careful with my footing. How can I even think about going to the gym?
This is my last chance to be a good wife, a good daughter-in-law, a good granddaughter-in-law and perhaps a good mother. I don't want to screw it up. My feelings are not about how much I love my baby, fetus, offspring, spawn - it is more like a test that I am carrying around inside me. Can I pass the test? Do everything right? Even though I know logically that I did nothing to cause the last 4 miscarriages, I can't help feeling like I was a failure. I hate failing.
So I guess I will continue to walk carefully, occasionally pause and think about how something feels, either dismiss it as 'something I understand' or do a quick Google to reassure myself, and try to hold my 'test' in for 22 more weeks or so. Is this normal?
Friday, January 1, 2010
18 Weeks, 4 Miscarriages, 1 New Year
I am 37, happily married, happily employed, 18 weeks pregnant and nervous as hell. I am 18 weeks along, exactly, today, on January 1, 2010. I feel good, physically. No strange symptoms. Everything is normal and fine. So why am I so numb emotionally?
I was pregnant last year. Well, let's face it I have been pregnant, more or less, for the last 2 1/2 years. I had 4 miscarriages. The first time I found out I was pregnant, after my husband, Griffin, and I started trying, I was elated. I was 34 and would be 35 on my due date so that made me a geriatric pregnancy case. 35 is geriatric!?! Ok, fine, so it was. When I went in for my first ultrasound with my husband, they only found an empty sac. No baby, no placenta, nothing else. I was empty. I was supposed to be about 12 weeks along.
We had already told our families that I was pregnant. My in-laws were chomping at the bit to become grandparents and had reminded us of that fact in very clever ways on a regular basis. Now, we had to untell everyone. I would become very good at this untelling part. Perhaps, too good.
My ObGyn told me I would need to have a D&C to get everything out. It was horrible and then it was over. My second pregnancy, about 5 months later, was not much better. 10 weeks, a fetus, no heartbeat. I couldn't accept it. So we went back a week later for another ultrasound to make sure there was no heartbeat. There wasn't. I had another D&C.
About 6 months after that, another positive pregnancy test. The line was faint, but it was there. That one took care of itself in a few weeks. I was becoming cynical, cold.
Another 6 months, another positive pregnancy test. I found a new OB and made an appointment. At about 7 weeks, I started spotting. It was brown, red, pink, maroon. I was miserable. We went on a cruise vacation that we had planned months earlier and I tried to forget about it for a week. I spotted the whole time. When we returned, I had an ultrasound. I prepared for the worst. I hated having D&C's. I hate the idea of being under anesthesia, too.
The ultrasound tech muttered to another tech and then to a doctor. They didn't have the screen pointed in our direction. I strained to hear what they were saying. One said there was a definite 'FH'. A definite FH, fetal heartbeat? What? And then a doctor came in and told us we had a heartbeat. Success! We were elated. My husband gave me a high-five. We cheered. I had never been so relieved in my life. I was only 8 or 9 weeks along, but we were on top of the world.
I hate failing at anything. I have this 'can do' attitude and cannon accept defeat easily. Finally, I was successful at this too. I was 36. Not too old, ready to do this. The spotting continued, on and off. My doc assured me that if it was brown, it was ok. Not to worry. I worried. A lot. We had another appointment a few weeks later. Doc found the heartbeat with the doppler and I was relieved. I told him about the spotting again; he told me not to worry, again.
At 12 weeks we had the nuchal translucency test done. This tests for Down's syndrome and Trisomy 18 and 13. I was so nervous. The tech scanned and typed and clicked for what felt like an hour. She showed us the heartbeat and we took a little tour of the anatomy of our offspring. She then said everything was perfect! A doctor came in and explained our results. I had the same chance of having a baby with Down's or Trisomy as a 21-year-old. Whooo-hoo!
We held our annual Memorial Day/Wedding Anniversary party the next week and told everyone the great news. Everyone was so happy for us. We deserved this. I told everyone that I had the body of a 21-year-old. Everyone chuckled, even if Griffin had already told them the same joke a few hours earlier. I was at 13 weeks and felt like I won the lottery.
I had continued to spot on and off, but the nurses all told me to relax. Brown was just old blood. It was ok. I didn't have any cramping. I was fine. I begged for an ultrasound to be sure. They said no. Relax there, first time mom. Its 'ok'.
Pregnancy comes with many tests. Many, many tests. The next one was the AFP test. Alpha fetal protein. A blood test that looks for signs of neural tube defects like spina bifida. This was done at 16 weeks. I got a call from my OB while Griffin and I were food shopping. He told me the test came back with some irregularities. One part was a little high. It could be nothing, but he wanted me to schedule an ultrasound right away. Of course, this was a Friday late afternoon, so there would be no scheduling until Monday morning. They got us in for that week. Squeezed us in, because there could be a problem. I was worried.
Through all of these pregnancies, I have been glued to my computer. I have a wonderful Macbook Pro that Griffin bought for me. When I worry, I Google. Its amazing what you can find. So many people out in cyberspace, documenting their experiences, asking questions, giving answers to the best of their knowledge. So much to sift through. By the time our ultrasound appointment came, I was prepared to hear many things. I braced myself. I was at 17 weeks.
The tech started the ultrasound. She showed us the heartbeat and toured the anatomy. I was so relieved our baby was still alive. The tech told us everything looked ok with the baby and took measurements of various parts. Everything was ok, except.
The tech called in the doctor. The doc looked at the screen and made a face. He asked if we could see how the baby was curled in a ball? In the 'fetal position' you might say. We saw that. Well, apparently there was very little amniotic fluid around the baby, so it couldn't move. It just laid there curled up. The doc said he was very sorry and we would have to end the pregnancy. There was nothing that could be done. He would call my OB and inform him of the results.
My OB wanted to see us right away, so we zoomed at a a snail's pace over to his office. Griffin drove, I Googled. With my trusty iPhone, I found out that there were several reasons for low amniotic fluid and little that could be done. I also came across the acronym PROM for the first time. Premature rupture of membranes. That did not sound good.
At the OB's office, he checked me for leaking amniotic fluid and looked at my cervix. The test strip came back negative for fluid and my cervix was closed. That's good, right? Well. It seems it didn't matter. I had about 1 cubic centimeter of fluid and that was really bad. He asked me if I ever felt wet. Well, yes I had, felt drippy, I would say, but it wasn't blood, so I thought it was ok. He told us the best thing to do was to end the pregnancy.
What else could we do? We could wait a week and see what happens. I was on bed rest, lots of fluids and plenty of Googling. I Googled my sanity out. I read as much as I could about PROM and how to fix it. There were a few things that were experimental. Not much success at this early stage. I was now really aware of the fluid leaking out.
Every time I drank anything, it would get to the fetus, the fetus would make urine and that would become part of the amniotic fluid and then it would dribble out of me. If I stayed real still, I could hold it in for a while and then it would run out of me in a small gush when I moved or sighed. The problems associated with not having enough amniotic fluid are that the lungs won't develop and the bones can't grow properly. If the fluid didn't build up and I went to term, or at least to a viable time, I could have a baby who would suffocate with lungs that couldn't breathe. Another problem was the chance of infection. If I developed an infection in my uterus, through the tear in the sac, that could be deadly for me. This alarmed Griffin. I wasn't alarmed. I was determined to fix this.
After a week of drinking 2 gallons of a combination of water, Gatorade and juice each day, we went in for another ultrasound. The fluid was even lower. How was that possible? I tried so hard. Now what? You should end the pregnancy. I was 18 weeks. I wanted a 3rd opinion.
Over the phone my OB gave us the name of an abortion clinic and a doctor that performed late term abortions. I went back to Googling. I found a group of doctors that specialized in high risk pregnancy and dealt with PROM. We made an appointment. I spent another week on the couch. I found that if I sat up a little it kept the fluid in longer. My baby was still trying to live. It was still drinking and urinating when I drank. So I wouldn't give up. These doctors would fix me. Fix us.
Finally, my appointment came. Another ultrasound. There's the heartbeat, all the organs, bones, brain. But no fluid. My baby, inside me, curled in a ball, barely able to move. There is nothing that can be done. You have to end the pregnancy. This could put your life in serious jeopardy. I cried.
I had been crying on and off since I first found out there was a problem, but this was a whole new level of crying. I was bawling. Loud braying noises came from me. Snot ran freely down my face. I am not a public person. I never do this sort of thing. I lost my mind. Griffin did the only thing he could. He held me.
There was nothing left to do. We went home. Griffin called the abortion clinic and scheduled a D&E&C for me, for us. I laid on the couch. My mission was over. I had no reason to keep drinking water. What little I drank, dribbled out an hour later. I apologized to my baby for not being able to save it. Not being able to fix things, I felt so guilty.
I thought about what I was in for. I knew there were crazies that picketed abortion clinics. I knew it would be filled with people that didn't want their pregnancies and I wanted mine. I knew it would be cold and heartless. I knew I could not end my pregnancy at an abortion clinic. I started bawling again. I ran to Griffin and told him I couldn't have this done at a clinic. He held me. He called my OB's office. They gave us the name of the only doctor in the tri-state area that performed late term abortions. Just recently one of the other doctors that still performed this late term procedure had been murdered by anti-abortionists.
I was just past 19 weeks. We went to our appointment. We sat in the waiting room for over an hour. It was filled with happy pregnant women waiting to see their OBGYN; he was a fertility specialist as well. We finally saw the doctor. He did an ultrasound. No fluid. He talked to us in his office. He was as cold as ice. I cried. Bawled. Snotted. Griffin held me. The doctor said there was no other option. We scheduled the abortion. I cried some more.
At 19 weeks and 6 days. I went in to the doc's office to have the laminaria inserted. The pain was blinding. The next day they gave me pills to take to start the contractions and further open my cervix. I had to let the pills dissolve between my cheek and gums. It was disgusting. I couldn't drink or eat. I had been drinking so much water before that I felt like I was drying up without it.
On July 21st. Griffin took me to the hospital and they prepped me for surgery. As I lay waiting in pre-op room, I was having contractions. I was in labor with a baby I would never see. They never told us the sex, so it remained an 'it' in my mind. I explained to the nurses why I was having an abortion at 20 weeks. I cried. They looked at us with pity and said it was the right thing to do. If I didn't do this I could die and my baby would surely die anyhow.
Finally, they rolled me into the operating room, I continued crying. Griffin held my hand. How helpless he must have felt through all of this. He told me when we first started dating 7 years ago that he wanted a family and wouldn't date someone that didn't feel the same. He was such a wonderful man he made me want to have a family with him, to have children of my own, to be a mother. Now it was all being taken away from me, again.
When I woke up in recovery, I focused on breathing. It was difficult, I thought, 'breathe, breathe, breathe'. When I was able to catch my breath, I asked the nurse to bring Griffin in. It seemed like forever, but then he was there at my side. My rock. I was so relieved to see him. I just wanted to go home. They gave me instructions and eventually sent us home. Just the two of us.
I recovered quickly. Felt better physically. It was the end of July of 2009 and we were supposed to go on vacation to Australia leaving on August 4th. Griffin had cashed in our frequent flier miles for 2 first class tickets. He told me to plan the vacation. I had 3 weeks of vacation to organize. And so I did. I Googled. I was distracted with my new mission. I healed.
We went on our trip and it was amazing. I fell in love with kangaroos and we discussed getting one as a pet. We had talked about perhaps not trying to have a family anymore. the heartbreak was getting to us. We could be happy if it was just the two of us. We have a wonderful life together. We could live like this forever. Traveling the world. But I couldn't accept defeat. I wanted to try one more time. Who knows how long it would take to get pregnant again? It was usually 6 months after each miscarriage. I could wait, I could do it! I was crazed.
We came home happy and refreshed. I accepted our loss and work began. I am a high school art teacher. I love my job. It was the start to a great new school year. While we were in Australia I had my first period. It was pretty normal. Lasted 5 days. Not too bad. I was starting to feel normal again. It was wonderful.
In the middle of September, I was expecting my period and it didn't come. I waited a few days and took a digital pregnancy test. It said 'NO'. I felt it was really mean of it to say that. I waited 2 more days and took another pregnancy test, the kind with the lines that develop. Two lines you're pregnant, one line you're not. There were two lines! Sort of. I squinted at it. I could see two lines if I held it at the right angle. I showed it to Griffin. He squinted. He didn't think so. I was out of pregnancy tests. The next day I bought more. The line wasn't much darker. The following day, another test, the line a little darker. Griffin started to believe. It was only a little more than 2 months after our tragic ending.
I called the high risk pregnancy group, I was not fooling around with this one. They told me to see my OB first. I called my OB and made an appointment. They got a positive pregnancy test from me too. I made the appointment at the high risk group. At our ultrasound appointment there, they told us that the fetus was a week younger than we calculated, but we had a heartbeat and everything looked fine so far. That put me at 7 weeks pregnant. Could I do this again?
We met with one of the doctors, all of us cautiously optimistic. She explained that it was not surprising that I was measuring a week behind, my cycles hadn't regulated themselves yet. We scheduled the next appointment for 2 weeks later. During those two weeks, I didn't spot, I didn't drip. I was a little ill, a little dizzy. They sent me for blood tests. 21 vials of blood tests. I came back positive for a clotting disorder, the doc wasn't too concerned. He said this wasn't the reason we lost the other pregnancies, but put me on B6, B12 and folate anyhow.
The next ultrasound at the high risk group showed the fetus growing. Heart beating. Things progressing. We met with the top doc. I was impressed. He was cautiously optimistic. We discussed how to handle things and keep a close watch. When I get to 15 weeks they would start measuring my cervix to make sure it stays closed. There would be more tests. Lots more ultrasounds and plenty of kid-glove treatment. I was pleased.
The nuchal translucency test came and went. All was fine. We saw a doctor almost every week. The ultrasound at 15 weeks and 4 days was fine. We found out its a GIRL! We decided on a name - Piper Blue. The ultrasound at 17 weeks was fine. Piper was fine. My cervix was fine. No bleeding, no spotting, no leaking.
I have started to feel her move. I look pregnant. The last time I didn't look pregnant, just my face and ankles were swollen. We told our extended family the good news on Christmas eve. Other people have started to look at my round belly, but they don't dare say anything. This is starting to feel real. It might actually happen for us.
I am at 18 weeks exactly today, January 1, 2010. The start of a new year, new decade, new chapter in our lives. We are cautiously optimistic, but still numb, emotionally. I ask Griffin if he is excited yet, he says he has 'twinges'. I know what he means. Piper rolls around in my belly or maybe that was just my breakfast. 22 weeks to go.
I was pregnant last year. Well, let's face it I have been pregnant, more or less, for the last 2 1/2 years. I had 4 miscarriages. The first time I found out I was pregnant, after my husband, Griffin, and I started trying, I was elated. I was 34 and would be 35 on my due date so that made me a geriatric pregnancy case. 35 is geriatric!?! Ok, fine, so it was. When I went in for my first ultrasound with my husband, they only found an empty sac. No baby, no placenta, nothing else. I was empty. I was supposed to be about 12 weeks along.
We had already told our families that I was pregnant. My in-laws were chomping at the bit to become grandparents and had reminded us of that fact in very clever ways on a regular basis. Now, we had to untell everyone. I would become very good at this untelling part. Perhaps, too good.
My ObGyn told me I would need to have a D&C to get everything out. It was horrible and then it was over. My second pregnancy, about 5 months later, was not much better. 10 weeks, a fetus, no heartbeat. I couldn't accept it. So we went back a week later for another ultrasound to make sure there was no heartbeat. There wasn't. I had another D&C.
About 6 months after that, another positive pregnancy test. The line was faint, but it was there. That one took care of itself in a few weeks. I was becoming cynical, cold.
Another 6 months, another positive pregnancy test. I found a new OB and made an appointment. At about 7 weeks, I started spotting. It was brown, red, pink, maroon. I was miserable. We went on a cruise vacation that we had planned months earlier and I tried to forget about it for a week. I spotted the whole time. When we returned, I had an ultrasound. I prepared for the worst. I hated having D&C's. I hate the idea of being under anesthesia, too.
The ultrasound tech muttered to another tech and then to a doctor. They didn't have the screen pointed in our direction. I strained to hear what they were saying. One said there was a definite 'FH'. A definite FH, fetal heartbeat? What? And then a doctor came in and told us we had a heartbeat. Success! We were elated. My husband gave me a high-five. We cheered. I had never been so relieved in my life. I was only 8 or 9 weeks along, but we were on top of the world.
I hate failing at anything. I have this 'can do' attitude and cannon accept defeat easily. Finally, I was successful at this too. I was 36. Not too old, ready to do this. The spotting continued, on and off. My doc assured me that if it was brown, it was ok. Not to worry. I worried. A lot. We had another appointment a few weeks later. Doc found the heartbeat with the doppler and I was relieved. I told him about the spotting again; he told me not to worry, again.
At 12 weeks we had the nuchal translucency test done. This tests for Down's syndrome and Trisomy 18 and 13. I was so nervous. The tech scanned and typed and clicked for what felt like an hour. She showed us the heartbeat and we took a little tour of the anatomy of our offspring. She then said everything was perfect! A doctor came in and explained our results. I had the same chance of having a baby with Down's or Trisomy as a 21-year-old. Whooo-hoo!
We held our annual Memorial Day/Wedding Anniversary party the next week and told everyone the great news. Everyone was so happy for us. We deserved this. I told everyone that I had the body of a 21-year-old. Everyone chuckled, even if Griffin had already told them the same joke a few hours earlier. I was at 13 weeks and felt like I won the lottery.
I had continued to spot on and off, but the nurses all told me to relax. Brown was just old blood. It was ok. I didn't have any cramping. I was fine. I begged for an ultrasound to be sure. They said no. Relax there, first time mom. Its 'ok'.
Pregnancy comes with many tests. Many, many tests. The next one was the AFP test. Alpha fetal protein. A blood test that looks for signs of neural tube defects like spina bifida. This was done at 16 weeks. I got a call from my OB while Griffin and I were food shopping. He told me the test came back with some irregularities. One part was a little high. It could be nothing, but he wanted me to schedule an ultrasound right away. Of course, this was a Friday late afternoon, so there would be no scheduling until Monday morning. They got us in for that week. Squeezed us in, because there could be a problem. I was worried.
Through all of these pregnancies, I have been glued to my computer. I have a wonderful Macbook Pro that Griffin bought for me. When I worry, I Google. Its amazing what you can find. So many people out in cyberspace, documenting their experiences, asking questions, giving answers to the best of their knowledge. So much to sift through. By the time our ultrasound appointment came, I was prepared to hear many things. I braced myself. I was at 17 weeks.
The tech started the ultrasound. She showed us the heartbeat and toured the anatomy. I was so relieved our baby was still alive. The tech told us everything looked ok with the baby and took measurements of various parts. Everything was ok, except.
The tech called in the doctor. The doc looked at the screen and made a face. He asked if we could see how the baby was curled in a ball? In the 'fetal position' you might say. We saw that. Well, apparently there was very little amniotic fluid around the baby, so it couldn't move. It just laid there curled up. The doc said he was very sorry and we would have to end the pregnancy. There was nothing that could be done. He would call my OB and inform him of the results.
My OB wanted to see us right away, so we zoomed at a a snail's pace over to his office. Griffin drove, I Googled. With my trusty iPhone, I found out that there were several reasons for low amniotic fluid and little that could be done. I also came across the acronym PROM for the first time. Premature rupture of membranes. That did not sound good.
At the OB's office, he checked me for leaking amniotic fluid and looked at my cervix. The test strip came back negative for fluid and my cervix was closed. That's good, right? Well. It seems it didn't matter. I had about 1 cubic centimeter of fluid and that was really bad. He asked me if I ever felt wet. Well, yes I had, felt drippy, I would say, but it wasn't blood, so I thought it was ok. He told us the best thing to do was to end the pregnancy.
What else could we do? We could wait a week and see what happens. I was on bed rest, lots of fluids and plenty of Googling. I Googled my sanity out. I read as much as I could about PROM and how to fix it. There were a few things that were experimental. Not much success at this early stage. I was now really aware of the fluid leaking out.
Every time I drank anything, it would get to the fetus, the fetus would make urine and that would become part of the amniotic fluid and then it would dribble out of me. If I stayed real still, I could hold it in for a while and then it would run out of me in a small gush when I moved or sighed. The problems associated with not having enough amniotic fluid are that the lungs won't develop and the bones can't grow properly. If the fluid didn't build up and I went to term, or at least to a viable time, I could have a baby who would suffocate with lungs that couldn't breathe. Another problem was the chance of infection. If I developed an infection in my uterus, through the tear in the sac, that could be deadly for me. This alarmed Griffin. I wasn't alarmed. I was determined to fix this.
After a week of drinking 2 gallons of a combination of water, Gatorade and juice each day, we went in for another ultrasound. The fluid was even lower. How was that possible? I tried so hard. Now what? You should end the pregnancy. I was 18 weeks. I wanted a 3rd opinion.
Over the phone my OB gave us the name of an abortion clinic and a doctor that performed late term abortions. I went back to Googling. I found a group of doctors that specialized in high risk pregnancy and dealt with PROM. We made an appointment. I spent another week on the couch. I found that if I sat up a little it kept the fluid in longer. My baby was still trying to live. It was still drinking and urinating when I drank. So I wouldn't give up. These doctors would fix me. Fix us.
Finally, my appointment came. Another ultrasound. There's the heartbeat, all the organs, bones, brain. But no fluid. My baby, inside me, curled in a ball, barely able to move. There is nothing that can be done. You have to end the pregnancy. This could put your life in serious jeopardy. I cried.
I had been crying on and off since I first found out there was a problem, but this was a whole new level of crying. I was bawling. Loud braying noises came from me. Snot ran freely down my face. I am not a public person. I never do this sort of thing. I lost my mind. Griffin did the only thing he could. He held me.
There was nothing left to do. We went home. Griffin called the abortion clinic and scheduled a D&E&C for me, for us. I laid on the couch. My mission was over. I had no reason to keep drinking water. What little I drank, dribbled out an hour later. I apologized to my baby for not being able to save it. Not being able to fix things, I felt so guilty.
I thought about what I was in for. I knew there were crazies that picketed abortion clinics. I knew it would be filled with people that didn't want their pregnancies and I wanted mine. I knew it would be cold and heartless. I knew I could not end my pregnancy at an abortion clinic. I started bawling again. I ran to Griffin and told him I couldn't have this done at a clinic. He held me. He called my OB's office. They gave us the name of the only doctor in the tri-state area that performed late term abortions. Just recently one of the other doctors that still performed this late term procedure had been murdered by anti-abortionists.
I was just past 19 weeks. We went to our appointment. We sat in the waiting room for over an hour. It was filled with happy pregnant women waiting to see their OBGYN; he was a fertility specialist as well. We finally saw the doctor. He did an ultrasound. No fluid. He talked to us in his office. He was as cold as ice. I cried. Bawled. Snotted. Griffin held me. The doctor said there was no other option. We scheduled the abortion. I cried some more.
At 19 weeks and 6 days. I went in to the doc's office to have the laminaria inserted. The pain was blinding. The next day they gave me pills to take to start the contractions and further open my cervix. I had to let the pills dissolve between my cheek and gums. It was disgusting. I couldn't drink or eat. I had been drinking so much water before that I felt like I was drying up without it.
On July 21st. Griffin took me to the hospital and they prepped me for surgery. As I lay waiting in pre-op room, I was having contractions. I was in labor with a baby I would never see. They never told us the sex, so it remained an 'it' in my mind. I explained to the nurses why I was having an abortion at 20 weeks. I cried. They looked at us with pity and said it was the right thing to do. If I didn't do this I could die and my baby would surely die anyhow.
Finally, they rolled me into the operating room, I continued crying. Griffin held my hand. How helpless he must have felt through all of this. He told me when we first started dating 7 years ago that he wanted a family and wouldn't date someone that didn't feel the same. He was such a wonderful man he made me want to have a family with him, to have children of my own, to be a mother. Now it was all being taken away from me, again.
When I woke up in recovery, I focused on breathing. It was difficult, I thought, 'breathe, breathe, breathe'. When I was able to catch my breath, I asked the nurse to bring Griffin in. It seemed like forever, but then he was there at my side. My rock. I was so relieved to see him. I just wanted to go home. They gave me instructions and eventually sent us home. Just the two of us.
I recovered quickly. Felt better physically. It was the end of July of 2009 and we were supposed to go on vacation to Australia leaving on August 4th. Griffin had cashed in our frequent flier miles for 2 first class tickets. He told me to plan the vacation. I had 3 weeks of vacation to organize. And so I did. I Googled. I was distracted with my new mission. I healed.
We went on our trip and it was amazing. I fell in love with kangaroos and we discussed getting one as a pet. We had talked about perhaps not trying to have a family anymore. the heartbreak was getting to us. We could be happy if it was just the two of us. We have a wonderful life together. We could live like this forever. Traveling the world. But I couldn't accept defeat. I wanted to try one more time. Who knows how long it would take to get pregnant again? It was usually 6 months after each miscarriage. I could wait, I could do it! I was crazed.
We came home happy and refreshed. I accepted our loss and work began. I am a high school art teacher. I love my job. It was the start to a great new school year. While we were in Australia I had my first period. It was pretty normal. Lasted 5 days. Not too bad. I was starting to feel normal again. It was wonderful.
In the middle of September, I was expecting my period and it didn't come. I waited a few days and took a digital pregnancy test. It said 'NO'. I felt it was really mean of it to say that. I waited 2 more days and took another pregnancy test, the kind with the lines that develop. Two lines you're pregnant, one line you're not. There were two lines! Sort of. I squinted at it. I could see two lines if I held it at the right angle. I showed it to Griffin. He squinted. He didn't think so. I was out of pregnancy tests. The next day I bought more. The line wasn't much darker. The following day, another test, the line a little darker. Griffin started to believe. It was only a little more than 2 months after our tragic ending.
I called the high risk pregnancy group, I was not fooling around with this one. They told me to see my OB first. I called my OB and made an appointment. They got a positive pregnancy test from me too. I made the appointment at the high risk group. At our ultrasound appointment there, they told us that the fetus was a week younger than we calculated, but we had a heartbeat and everything looked fine so far. That put me at 7 weeks pregnant. Could I do this again?
We met with one of the doctors, all of us cautiously optimistic. She explained that it was not surprising that I was measuring a week behind, my cycles hadn't regulated themselves yet. We scheduled the next appointment for 2 weeks later. During those two weeks, I didn't spot, I didn't drip. I was a little ill, a little dizzy. They sent me for blood tests. 21 vials of blood tests. I came back positive for a clotting disorder, the doc wasn't too concerned. He said this wasn't the reason we lost the other pregnancies, but put me on B6, B12 and folate anyhow.
The next ultrasound at the high risk group showed the fetus growing. Heart beating. Things progressing. We met with the top doc. I was impressed. He was cautiously optimistic. We discussed how to handle things and keep a close watch. When I get to 15 weeks they would start measuring my cervix to make sure it stays closed. There would be more tests. Lots more ultrasounds and plenty of kid-glove treatment. I was pleased.
The nuchal translucency test came and went. All was fine. We saw a doctor almost every week. The ultrasound at 15 weeks and 4 days was fine. We found out its a GIRL! We decided on a name - Piper Blue. The ultrasound at 17 weeks was fine. Piper was fine. My cervix was fine. No bleeding, no spotting, no leaking.
I have started to feel her move. I look pregnant. The last time I didn't look pregnant, just my face and ankles were swollen. We told our extended family the good news on Christmas eve. Other people have started to look at my round belly, but they don't dare say anything. This is starting to feel real. It might actually happen for us.
I am at 18 weeks exactly today, January 1, 2010. The start of a new year, new decade, new chapter in our lives. We are cautiously optimistic, but still numb, emotionally. I ask Griffin if he is excited yet, he says he has 'twinges'. I know what he means. Piper rolls around in my belly or maybe that was just my breakfast. 22 weeks to go.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
