My apologies for being so quiet. First, there was nothing new to report. Than, life got too crazy to have time to write--but that involves the toddler and will be the subject of another post. Add in all the extra tired from being pregnant, and *voila* radio silence.
So, focusing on just pregnancy-related news, let's start with the good. Monday I went to the doctor and was released not just from bed rest, but from the fertility center to my regular doctor. I also got to cut back on my meds and should be totally off them by the end of April. The ultrasound showed no problems with the jellybean, who was .61 inches long and had a heart rate of 157. I called my OB's office and made an appointment for my nurse intake, which occurred today.
It started kind of scary when my blood pressure was 147/89. Fortunately, we retested at the end and it was down to 126/80. Phew! We declined all prenatal testing and just asked for the 20-week ultrasound; same like last time. I don't care how low the risk of miscarriage is with the testing--any risk is too much. However, there is one difference this time. Around the same time as the 20-week ultrasound, I will also get referred to a pediatric cardiologist for a fetal echo-cardiogram to make sure there are no heart issues with the jellybean--there's an increased risk since Lil' Bit has some.
They told me that my next appointment is around 13 weeks, when I'll see my doc and we'll get to hear the heartbeat! They told me that they changed their "rotation" policy from last time I was there. Now, most, if not all, of my regularly scheduled appointments will be with my doctor and I will only see the other docs if I have an unexpected issue, or my doc is out for some reason. I'm excited that I will get to see my doc more often ('cuz she's so awesome!) and, since I met most of the other docs last time, I'm feeling pretty good.
Then, we hit the discussion of the blood tests and the bad news came. I have to do a glucose tolerance test for gestational diabetes within the next week. Apparently, they test waaaay earlier than usual if you've had it before. And, even if I pass, they will still test me again later. I don't know if they wait and test me again at 28 weeks with everyone else, or if I will get tested several times along the way. Either way, I'm a little freaked out. I don't want to have to take shots the WHOLE pregnancy. Just two months of insulin and testing drove me bananas last time.
Still, I'll do what I have to do. As I've been telling myself for the last few weeks--we paid good money for me to feel this miserable. :) And, hey, at least I'm not on bed rest anymore!
3.28.2013
3.15.2013
The Consequences of Getting What You Want
I am a firm believer that we are co-creators of our world and that it is very important to place our energy on things we want and not on things we don't. This is not to say that I can simply wish myself a million dollars, much as many of us would like that to be true. But where we focus our energy has consequences. And so, during this stressful week, I added another mantra to my repertoire: Although I most desire an easy pregnancy, I would rather have a freaked-out pregnancy than no pregnancy at all. Well, I got what I wanted--a pregnancy.
This past Monday I called the center to report more bleeding. In fact, this week it pretty much became a constant, unwanted companion. I asked whether I could move my ultrasound up to find out what was going on. No luck. They were all full-up. The nurses did their best to reassure me that it was probably nothing and not to worry. However, I remember them giving me the same spiel when I was miscarrying, so it really provided no comfort. I considered going to an urgent care or ER, but the truth was it wasn't "really" an emergency. Yes, I wanted to know, but if the center wasn't that concerned, it wasn't worth tying up ER resources over. I bided my time and waited impatiently for Thursday to arrive. Of course, Thursday started with lots of cramping and bright red bleeding, which made waiting for my afternoon appointment excruciating. Still, the time finally arrived. I advised my doctor of the issues we'd been having and then we looked at the ultrasound to see what was going on.
The good news: there was a baby--and only one (we don't have to buy tons of new stuff--whew!). The baby measured .56 cm, which was exactly on target, and had a strong heart rate of 123 (I giggle every time I type this because Lil' Bit has recently learned to count to three, so when I type it, in my mind I hear her say 'one, two, free'--but I digress). However, the doctor was concerned with the cramping and bleeding and put me on bed rest (he called it a vacation from work, but I'll be working from home) for a week and a half or so, followed-up by another ultrasound. He said he was pleased with what he saw but, "now that we got you a baby, we have to fight for it."
So, here I am, fighting for my adorable jellybean by laying on the sofa with a laptop on my stomach and drinking all the water I can stand. It's frustrating, but it beats the alternative. EDD: November 4. Grow, baby, grow!
This past Monday I called the center to report more bleeding. In fact, this week it pretty much became a constant, unwanted companion. I asked whether I could move my ultrasound up to find out what was going on. No luck. They were all full-up. The nurses did their best to reassure me that it was probably nothing and not to worry. However, I remember them giving me the same spiel when I was miscarrying, so it really provided no comfort. I considered going to an urgent care or ER, but the truth was it wasn't "really" an emergency. Yes, I wanted to know, but if the center wasn't that concerned, it wasn't worth tying up ER resources over. I bided my time and waited impatiently for Thursday to arrive. Of course, Thursday started with lots of cramping and bright red bleeding, which made waiting for my afternoon appointment excruciating. Still, the time finally arrived. I advised my doctor of the issues we'd been having and then we looked at the ultrasound to see what was going on.
The good news: there was a baby--and only one (we don't have to buy tons of new stuff--whew!). The baby measured .56 cm, which was exactly on target, and had a strong heart rate of 123 (I giggle every time I type this because Lil' Bit has recently learned to count to three, so when I type it, in my mind I hear her say 'one, two, free'--but I digress). However, the doctor was concerned with the cramping and bleeding and put me on bed rest (he called it a vacation from work, but I'll be working from home) for a week and a half or so, followed-up by another ultrasound. He said he was pleased with what he saw but, "now that we got you a baby, we have to fight for it."
So, here I am, fighting for my adorable jellybean by laying on the sofa with a laptop on my stomach and drinking all the water I can stand. It's frustrating, but it beats the alternative. EDD: November 4. Grow, baby, grow!
3.08.2013
Got Stress?
One of the things a fertility clinic will tell you when you are trying to get (and stay) pregnant is to avoid stress. This is certainly a lovely theory, but the whole infertility gig does not lend itself to being stress-free. Add in a toddler having surgery, a non-private room at the hospital, dental issues, and dehydration-induced bleeding and--VOILA!--you have my ridiculously stressful life.
So, let's go back to Sunday. I had taken Lil' Bit to church as usual. Somehow, during coffee hour, I broke a crown. I called my dentist at home (one of the benefits of small town living!), and got an appointment to see him the next day to put on a temporary one. Once I got slightly calmed down from that snafu, we worked on getting our ducks in a row to head for Detroit to take Lil' Bit in for her surgery. My zen had not even returned when I discovered I was bleeding again. After getting Lil' Bit to bed, I drank lots of water and put my feet up. My mantra was--I can't control this; there is a plan to which I am not privy; but if I get a say, please stick around. And, by morning, things seemed a little better. Still, I called the fertility center to seek reassurance. They told me there was nothing that could be done at this point and that they weren't worried, but I could call if I needed further reassurance. I did my best to feel reassured by this, pulled up my big-girl pants, and headed out to Detroit.
Surgery on Tuesday morning went well and everything was copacetic. Then, we discovered there were no rooms available for Lil' Bit, so we waited in the recovery area for several hours for a room to come open. We were relieved when we got word she had been assigned to one, but it was another hour or two before we were sent up because they had to clean it. We discovered we were sharing the room with another two-year-old who had just had the same surgery. What we soon discovered, however, was that this child could scream and did not want to see any nurse, doctor, or anything of the sort and mom had no intention of holding said child to provide comfort--she just kept talking on her phone. I mean, I know screaming. I was a willful child who would scream to the high-heavens, but I had nothing on this toddler. In fact, the non-stop, high-pitched screams and other activities by the child were such that the nursing staff finally came and "helped" mom take the child to another location because Lil' Bit (and likely the whole freakin' floor) was clearly being affected. The charge nurse actually came in and apologized and, when I said the standard, "It's okay," her response was, "No, it's not."
Things got marginally better upon the return, although we heard overheard conversations that would make Teen Mom plot lines seem like Leave It To Beaver episodes (Phil tells me that the conversations overnight were even more "entertaining"). Needless to say, I forgot to take care of myself as I was working hard to console my child and *bam* significant bleeding and cramping. I was certain I was miscarrying, wigged out, and started crying, all of which freaked out Lil' Bit even more. Seeing her response, I worked hard to push down all that anxiety and sadness and pull myself together and then worked to console her and get her calm. We finally got me back to the hotel where I drank tons of water and laid down with my feet up. Again, by morning, things seemed okay.
After a rough morning at the hospital, Lil' Bit finally got discharged. On the drive home, my temporary crown popped off. The only good thing about this was that I was scheduled to get my new permanent one the next day. On the downside, we were back up to 14 meds per day with Lil' Bit, most of which could not be combined and seven of which were liquid doses (her least favorite). Needless to say, every day involves tons of screaming as we try and "do what's best for her," while I watch her be a little more traumatized each time. Her regular med-taking has suffered to the point that, even once she's better, we have a long haul to get her back to where we were before all this.
Thursday arrived and I got my new crown. It was unpleasant, but at least I got a little time away from the house such as it was. By last night, things seems to be on the upswing. I was feeling pretty good about the rest of Lil' Bit's recovery. Thinking the day might end on a good note, I was disheartened, but no longer surprised, to discover I was bleeding *again*. Worse, Lil' Bit didn't want to sleep alone (who could blame her), so I spent the night on the floor of her room. Although I didn't get much sleep, I did manage to drink more water and get my feet up and got things stopped again.
That brings us to this morning. After an okay morning, things went downhill fast. I swear, it was like she was worse than right after her surgery. Now, I remember with my recent surgical recovery feeling like I was backsliding. I don't know why I assumed that wouldn't happen with her, but I did. Seeing her misery today hit me really hard. And, even though Phil and his parents have worked very hard to try and provide me some downtime, my little girl just wants her mommy and my heart just can't say no. However, I have managed to not be too far from water and have stayed well-hydrated, thus preventing the now diagnosed dehydration-induced uterine contractions/bleeding.
I know my previous goal was just to make it to the ultrasound this Thursday, but now, I am living hour by hour, minute by minute, just trying to make Lil' Bit as comfortable as possible and to get through this emotionally and physically intact. There is no freakin' way I can stay stress free through all this. Life is what it is. But, I just keep telling myself: I can't control this; there is a plan to which I am not privy; but if I get a say, please stick around. All I can do now is wait. And drink lots of water.
So, let's go back to Sunday. I had taken Lil' Bit to church as usual. Somehow, during coffee hour, I broke a crown. I called my dentist at home (one of the benefits of small town living!), and got an appointment to see him the next day to put on a temporary one. Once I got slightly calmed down from that snafu, we worked on getting our ducks in a row to head for Detroit to take Lil' Bit in for her surgery. My zen had not even returned when I discovered I was bleeding again. After getting Lil' Bit to bed, I drank lots of water and put my feet up. My mantra was--I can't control this; there is a plan to which I am not privy; but if I get a say, please stick around. And, by morning, things seemed a little better. Still, I called the fertility center to seek reassurance. They told me there was nothing that could be done at this point and that they weren't worried, but I could call if I needed further reassurance. I did my best to feel reassured by this, pulled up my big-girl pants, and headed out to Detroit.
Surgery on Tuesday morning went well and everything was copacetic. Then, we discovered there were no rooms available for Lil' Bit, so we waited in the recovery area for several hours for a room to come open. We were relieved when we got word she had been assigned to one, but it was another hour or two before we were sent up because they had to clean it. We discovered we were sharing the room with another two-year-old who had just had the same surgery. What we soon discovered, however, was that this child could scream and did not want to see any nurse, doctor, or anything of the sort and mom had no intention of holding said child to provide comfort--she just kept talking on her phone. I mean, I know screaming. I was a willful child who would scream to the high-heavens, but I had nothing on this toddler. In fact, the non-stop, high-pitched screams and other activities by the child were such that the nursing staff finally came and "helped" mom take the child to another location because Lil' Bit (and likely the whole freakin' floor) was clearly being affected. The charge nurse actually came in and apologized and, when I said the standard, "It's okay," her response was, "No, it's not."
Things got marginally better upon the return, although we heard overheard conversations that would make Teen Mom plot lines seem like Leave It To Beaver episodes (Phil tells me that the conversations overnight were even more "entertaining"). Needless to say, I forgot to take care of myself as I was working hard to console my child and *bam* significant bleeding and cramping. I was certain I was miscarrying, wigged out, and started crying, all of which freaked out Lil' Bit even more. Seeing her response, I worked hard to push down all that anxiety and sadness and pull myself together and then worked to console her and get her calm. We finally got me back to the hotel where I drank tons of water and laid down with my feet up. Again, by morning, things seemed okay.
After a rough morning at the hospital, Lil' Bit finally got discharged. On the drive home, my temporary crown popped off. The only good thing about this was that I was scheduled to get my new permanent one the next day. On the downside, we were back up to 14 meds per day with Lil' Bit, most of which could not be combined and seven of which were liquid doses (her least favorite). Needless to say, every day involves tons of screaming as we try and "do what's best for her," while I watch her be a little more traumatized each time. Her regular med-taking has suffered to the point that, even once she's better, we have a long haul to get her back to where we were before all this.
Thursday arrived and I got my new crown. It was unpleasant, but at least I got a little time away from the house such as it was. By last night, things seems to be on the upswing. I was feeling pretty good about the rest of Lil' Bit's recovery. Thinking the day might end on a good note, I was disheartened, but no longer surprised, to discover I was bleeding *again*. Worse, Lil' Bit didn't want to sleep alone (who could blame her), so I spent the night on the floor of her room. Although I didn't get much sleep, I did manage to drink more water and get my feet up and got things stopped again.
That brings us to this morning. After an okay morning, things went downhill fast. I swear, it was like she was worse than right after her surgery. Now, I remember with my recent surgical recovery feeling like I was backsliding. I don't know why I assumed that wouldn't happen with her, but I did. Seeing her misery today hit me really hard. And, even though Phil and his parents have worked very hard to try and provide me some downtime, my little girl just wants her mommy and my heart just can't say no. However, I have managed to not be too far from water and have stayed well-hydrated, thus preventing the now diagnosed dehydration-induced uterine contractions/bleeding.
I know my previous goal was just to make it to the ultrasound this Thursday, but now, I am living hour by hour, minute by minute, just trying to make Lil' Bit as comfortable as possible and to get through this emotionally and physically intact. There is no freakin' way I can stay stress free through all this. Life is what it is. But, I just keep telling myself: I can't control this; there is a plan to which I am not privy; but if I get a say, please stick around. All I can do now is wait. And drink lots of water.
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