tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31645157741623718362024-03-13T11:10:48.164-05:00Cotton Socks"It's a happy life, but someone is missing. It's a happy life <i>and</i> someone is missing. It's a happy life -- "<p>
(Elizabeth McCracken, <i>An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination</i>)</p>CottonSockshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12985852348250115996noreply@blogger.comBlogger650125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164515774162371836.post-17189610249796202632012-10-15T18:16:00.000-05:002012-10-15T18:16:02.481-05:00Pregnancy & Infant Loss Awareness DayHere we are, once again.<br />
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So much I wish I could say. The problem now is merely time; Vivienne - my lovely, funny, squirmy, flying-squirrel of a delightfully intense and sometimes terribly fussy and wonderfully, sadly independent living (so amazingly, stunningly alive) baby - takes up so much of it.<br />
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As it should be.<br />
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And yet -<br />
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Yet.<br />
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Her brother is not forgotten, or less loved, or less missed. Gabriel is still gone and his absence is still harrowing and hurtful, unfair and unforgiving.<br />
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The dichotomy in which I existed after his death has not changed, merely shifted. I am still and stuck and yet move forward every day. I am sad and despairing and filled with joy.<br />
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Vivienne didn't replace Gabriel, but she did heal some of the hurt, fill some of the gaping wounds.<br />
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Life, as ever, moves on.<br />
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But today, I can take a moment, here and now, to reflect and remember my son. My beautiful, tiny, fragile little boy.<br />
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And so many, many others (my own lost pregnancies included).<br />
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Not forgotten. All missed. All loved.CottonSockshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12985852348250115996noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164515774162371836.post-69928946853830207182012-08-24T22:06:00.004-05:002012-08-24T22:06:56.446-05:00Happy birthday, darling.3 years.<br />
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My heart is full and breaking.<br />
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There is so much I want to say and the words won't come.<br />
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I miss him. I love him.<br />
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I wish you were here, baby boy.CottonSockshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12985852348250115996noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164515774162371836.post-9681044468671391842012-06-30T19:06:00.000-05:002012-06-30T19:06:07.034-05:00Been AwhileBut I've been busy! Mostly with this (4 wks):<br />
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And this (8 wks):<br />
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I'll try to write more soon. You know, when she's doing more of this:<br />
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Until then, I'll be like this:<br />
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<br />CottonSockshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12985852348250115996noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164515774162371836.post-59745434978304025362012-05-14T23:22:00.000-05:002012-05-14T23:22:34.226-05:002 weeks inThe birth story is still coming, I promise. What with all the pumping and feeding and trying to sleep when the baby does (and visitors and laundry, dear god, the laundry will it ever end?), throw in a dog that is still acclimating to the change and keeping baby upstairs and a temperamental laptop, I get maybe an hour a day to be on the computer which is not nearly enough to do everything I need to do.<br />
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But in the interim . . .<br />
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It's shocking to realize my baby is already (almost) 2 weeks old. On one hand, she's been here forever and ever. On the other, what a terribly short time that is. I'm realizing the heartbreak of parenting a living child - the time flies so quickly and it is so ephemeral. Already, Vivienne is changing. <br />
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My little tiny girl had regained her birth weight by her one week appointment, and now she's visibly bigger (and heavier). She's getting a second chin and chubby arms and legs and her hands no longer look a size too big. Her hair is lighter (unsurprisingly, she's going to be a blonde child - DH was platinum blonde and I had dark blonde hair until late toddlerhood when it began darkening), and her eyes are changing too. It's still debatable whether they will stay grey like mine or turn green like DH's. She tries to hold her head up, eager to see the world around her.<br />
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I remember telling my mother last week that I don't want her to change, that she can't get bigger yet, that she's got to stay small forever, or at least long enough for me to enjoy it. Alas, time marches on and I can't quite get over a tiny bit of resentment at how much of it has been spent sleeping or attached to the pump. I try to make the most of the time she is alert and awake. I've spent hours just watching the expressions flit over her face (three guesses where my favorite nickname of 'Baby Fish Face' came from). She has the most gorgeous smile and there is also a grin and a sideways glance of the eyes that will be killer some day when they aren't just reflexes and ingrained survival instinct but are 'real' - though I'll happily coo over the expressions now, because they are so amazing.<br />
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So she's already begun to grow, and grow up, and as sad as that makes me I also can't wait for more. I can't wait to see how she reacts to the pool and going swimming and what she thinks of applesauce and pear puree and watching her discover things and begin moving and talking . . . I want to jump ahead and I want time to stop all at once.<br />
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It's different being a mother to a living child (perceptive, aren't I?) - the thing is that time did stop with Gabriel. There was only then and that was it. We only had a few minutes to cram in all the love of a lifetime. We never got to watch the expressions on his face, we never got to see what would happen next. I'll never know what his eye color would have been, nor what he would have liked or loathed. He is forever frozen in that moment of his life and his death, almost as frozen as a picture. The only thing we knew after is grief, and trying to piece together and remember what joy had come before. Whereas, with Vivienne, it's ongoing. She is vital, she moves, she breathes, she changes, she lives. We are not forever mourning that moment of loss, that snuffed potential - we are mourning each tiny moment even while anticipating the next. The anticipation, the expectation, the hope of the future, that is what is different.<br />
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I miss him terribly right now. I know he weighed heavily on DH, especially at the end of my pregnancy, but I was still in suspended animation. I knew then that what would weigh on me would be the common everyday things of life with a living baby, and I was right. Doing things with Viv, it reminds me of the things I didn't do with Gabe. The absence is magnified by her presence. Sometimes I think I feel a small presence, a little boy at my side peering over my shoulder, unsure what to make of this creature, unsure where he fits in now. Poor older brother, is it any easier being a spirit sibling?<br />
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And yet, the sadness is not lingering, not really. Perhaps it is lost in the exhaustion of a newborn, perhaps it's buried to erupt later. Perhaps there is simply too much joy in cuddling the flesh and blood that are tangible in my arms. If I kiss her every chance I can, and hold her close to my heart for an extra beat or two, well, that's not so strange, I expect.<br />
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Ah, I hear her stirring. It's nearly time for her next feeding and I need to pump. Again. But here are a couple of pictures. Somehow, we ended up with a completely gorgeous baby. <br />
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(Vivienne, 6 days old, half asleep, half smiling)<br />
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(Vivienne, 11 days old, looking out the window, presumably thinking deep, deep thoughts)CottonSockshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12985852348250115996noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164515774162371836.post-83739297091063147472012-05-05T12:06:00.000-05:002012-05-05T12:06:08.361-05:00Vivienne Rose has arrived!Forgive the brevity and lateness. Between new baby girl and internet and laptop issues, this is the first chance I've had to get online (seriously).
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Details and pics to come later, promise.
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For now though, vital statistics:
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High blood pressure that refused to go down led to 24 hour collection, which I was told was negative, but actually did contain protein - enough for a 'mild pre-eclampsia' diagnosis. Even higher blood pressure led to overnight admission for monitoring and another 24 hour urine collection (increasing proteins) on Friday night/Saturday by a fill-in doc of the practice, followed by release to strict bedrest and follow up with my doctor on Monday.
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That resulted in admission to the hospital for induction. My doc said that if she hadn't been on vacation, I would have already had the baby because she wasn't thrilled with the developing pre-eclampsia, no matter how mild it appeared to be.
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Cervidil was started around 4:30 pm on April 30, exactly 39 weeks. There is a really funny (to me, anyway) story I'll tell later about my labor/delivery and how it was rather precipitate for what we had planned.
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Vivienne made her debut at 8:17 am on May 1 after about an hour to an hour and a half of pushing. I was on mag sulfate, and between that and the sertraline in the last tri, they had NICU pediatriacs standing by in case of breathing difficulties. She was taken directly to the warmer where she scored a 6 on the 1 minute apgar (points removed for color and tone). Her breathing was fine, but no crying or fussing. At 5 minutes, her apgar was 8 (again, points removed for color and tone) and it was 9 at 10 minutes. They handed her to DH and finally told him it was normal for mag babies to be a little pale (he was getting really concerned). She pinked up fine and hasn't stopped moving or flailing since.
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She weighed in at 7 lbs, 9 oz (ha! where was my monster baby?!) and she was 21 inches long. Initially, breastfeeding went well, subsequently we've had difficulties latching, which have been resolved by pumping and supplementing with formula (making all three of us much, much happier and more relaxed). We are trying to catch up sleep - the hospital, lovely as it was, wasn't conducive to it, since I had to spend an extra 24 hours on mag in bed in L&D (which isn't really designed for that, tbh). My mom came in the day she was born, my in-laws visited soon after. We have some awesome pictures. She's absolutely delightful in every way, and we couldn't be more in love.
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Gabriel is very present in my mind, as I trace her gorgeous little face and see the familial similarities, as I hold her and remember holding him. The joy is undiluted, but the sadness is also present. Vivienne does not replace him, never would we dream of asking her to, but the hole in our hearts and lives is differently shaped now - stronger in some areas and more raw in others.
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Still, our girl is wonderful, and we are existing in exhausted amazement.CottonSockshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12985852348250115996noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164515774162371836.post-60470116342289548972012-04-22T18:14:00.001-05:002012-04-22T20:48:38.045-05:00I will cut you.So after all this time, I'm still here at a day shy of 38 weeks. Baby has moved head down and into birth position (though is not well engaged in the pelvis yet), and is healthy as can be or so say the tests. The last growth scan indicated a 7+ pound infant and my new doctor cheerfully informed me that if I go to 40 weeks, we may have a 9-pounder on our hands. I did not find that amusing.<br />
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They originally told me less than a 5% chance of getting to May, and now we're looking at scheduling an induction for that first week of May. It's surreal - happy news, of course! the best possible outcomes - but surreal.
I'm hanging in there - the complaints of pregnancy are normal ones and I'm tired and ready to be done with work. They will not let me go past my due date, but unless baby makes an appearance this coming week or the 24-hour urine collection or bloodwork I'll do tomorrow (due to another high blood pressure reading in office) suggest pre-eclampsia, then we're pretty much looking at induction the following week. I'm guessing this will end with induction, given that not much has happened naturally. No cervical change (save some shortening) since the cerclage came out.<br />
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I find that I am tired and more grumpy than I've any real right to be. My doctors have been great with listening to me and really hearing what I am saying about my anxiety and working with me to put me at ease. I have a lot of testing and monitoring (probably made easier by the fact that my blood pressure has given high/wonky readings so they can categorize it under PIH/Pre-E observation and testing, though it continues to come back clear time and again. . .). I have a few contractions - mostly BH, I think. Random, mildly annoying. The baby is big and stretching makes me cringe because various sharp body parts are poked into painful places and there really isn't much room in there any longer.<br />
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We're mostly ready. Not at work, but hey, if I can just finish two or three things, I'll rest easy about it. We've got our plans laid out for leave and are 90% sure about our plans for childcare. The upstairs is as clean and organized as it has ever been. It's nice up there - I want to spend time there. Amazing that a mere few weeks ago, we couldn't walk all the way into one room and had dedicated pathways to navigate the other. Everything up there now has a place (save the linen closet, which we are working on today now that we've gotten new shelving). The carseat has been installed and the hospital bag packed since the night before the cerclage removal. The co-sleeper, pack'n'play, swing and bouncer have been assembled and have batteries ready and waiting. The nursery is pretty much done, though DH is going to go over the carpet with the steam cleaner one more time (there is a persistent sort of stain in one corner - it gets lighter each time, but isn't gone yet). We've interviewed a pediatrician, and while I won't claim it was love at first sight, the practice's policies were in line with our own and she is board certified and affiliated with the hospitals I wanted and takes our insurance, so it's as good a place to start as any. If we don't really click with her, there are hundreds of others to choose from.<br />
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Beyond that, I'm just sort of assuming on-the-job training. I know a fair amount about newborn and infant care nad my husband knows much less, but in the end, we shrugged and said they'll show us much of what we need in the hospital and the internet is full of resources. Certainly, dumber people that us manage to reproduce and not kill their offspring through sheer ineptitude or lack of experience, so I'm going to assume that we'll survive.<br />
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God, I hope so.<br />
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But mostly, the only thing I really wanted to say is that the next person who smirks and tells me to get some sleep now, HAHAHAHAHA, because you won't be able to once the baby arrives is getting shanked. It's neither clever nor helpful advice, and because I can't sleep and am fucking tired, I'm nearing the point where I will not be held responsible for my actions.CottonSockshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12985852348250115996noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164515774162371836.post-36413989670553264692012-04-05T10:41:00.003-05:002012-04-05T11:20:31.733-05:00Oh, hi! Yeah, we're still here.So . . . yeah. <br /><br />Short version: Baby is doing well, at 35 and a half weeks, passing BPPs and moving strongly, practicing breathing and flipping breech and back (currently breech. sigh). Cerclage is being removed on Monday. More on that later.<br /><br />Long version:<br /><br />Let's start with work. I'm going to summarize a long period by saying this - I applied for a vacancy in my office when my colleague left. I was one of the final candidates, but I didn't get the job. It went to someone with more experience. The entire episode left me feeling pretty bitter - not that they didn't hire me, I can understand why on many levels and the person they did hire is fantastic and I genuinely like that person - but the way certain things were handled (or not - like not informing me that I was not chosen, which is a huge lack of common courtesy given that I've worked here for four years and share an office with the new person). It's been a revelation and a big disappointment; not only not getting a job that would have been personally loads better for me, but finding out that I mean less to this organization than I thought hurt me a lot. Stupid in many ways, but after all the time and effort (unpaid and largely unrewarded effort) I've put it in, it was distressing to learn that it didn't matter more. Add to that the fact that I took on an extra department (essentially a full time job by itself)in September and have not received any additional compensation for it, and when I became eligible again in March was asked to wait until September 2012 for a reclassification, and I haven't been a particularly happy worker bee. Now, before pitchforks and such go up, the main reason for the request to wait was to my monetary advantage in the long run - there are raises coming, and if I reclass now I will be ineligible. Waiting allows me to get a higher salary (based on a higher rate + plus higher equity rates across the positions), but still . . . a full year of trying to do 3 jobs, for free, is not easy to swallow. Nor is the fact that I essentially allowed it to happen and screwed myself over in the process.<br /><br />On the other hand, it made cutting back my hours easier and boy oh boy can I not wait for maternity leave just to be away for awhile.<br /><br />What else has been going on?<br /><br />Baby stuff. I kept meaning to update and then I'd think, well, let me wait for the next appointment. And uh, here we are, coming up on cerclage removal.<br /><br />Generally, things are fine. No gestational diabetes, child growing nicely. There was a bit of a scare around 30 weeks, when the perinatalogist appt revealed a baby 1-3 weeks ahead in measurements across the board and also fluid levels above normal, but not quite into official polyhydramnios range. That could be associated with birth defects. However, when I returned for what ended up being my last appointment at 33 and a half weeks, the growth had evened out and was within a week of gestational age, and the fluid levels had returned to normal. Apparently, we just literally caught a growth spurt in progress. At 33 and a half weeks, the baby weighed over 5 lbs, and the peri absolutely glowed about how well things had gone and . . . released me. He told me he'd see me again next pregnancy for another stitch.<br /><br />I've since been on weekly appointments with my OB, with a BPP/AFI each time. The first one passed, but not by much, as the child decided that was the perfect time to nap and apparently takes sleep as seriously as I do. No big deal, except when you are doing an u/s specifically to check on things like, oh, movement and variable heart-rate and practice breathing . . . but the last one was a fiesty moving baby. Literally flipping back and forth, back and forth between vertex and breech.<br /><br />Cerclage is coming out on Monday, around noon. We hope baby has returned to vertex, but it comes out either way. It is possible that baby could be born shortly thereafter, though more than likely it will be some time. My cervix has begun to shorten, but no signs of dilation or effacement yet. Of course, the instability/incompetency is at the interal os, so my water could break next Wednesday and then comes baby. Or I could be induced at the end of the month. It doesn't really make planning very easy, to be honest, when you say "I could have the baby Monday. Or in four weeks. Yeah." We just hope baby is head down when/if my water breaks, as it is an emergency c-section otherwise because of the risks of cord prolapse, etc. Clearly, there is room enough to move, but the inclination appears to be . . . lacking. Monkey baby. Or as I blurted out when I found out we were breech AGAIN, "Little bastard!" The u/s tech looked horrified, and not overly reassured when I said, "Oh don't worry, I know who the father is!" Ok, no, that just happened in my head. I thought it would be in poor taste to call the baby a bastard. But I thought it. So I'm not a very nice person. Meh.<br /><br />As for how I am feeling - awful. I am completely exhausted, not sleeping well (does any pregnant woman sleep well at 9 months?) and my pelvis feels like it is going to split in half whenever I get up and walk. Also, if I stay in any one position (sitting, standing, laying down, whatever) for too long (how long is too long is unknown and variable) I can barely move. It's awful and painful and I feel vaguely amazed that I never realized before how painful this could be. But so long as baby is good, I hang in there. I'm starting to feel more cramping and a contraction here or there, but nothing awful yet.<br /><br />Emotionally, I'm fairly stable, but the anxiety is increasing and the idea the baby could be here next week is stressing me out. We don't feel ready. At all. There is just so much to get done. The nursery is mostly finished, save a few details like ironing curtains or carpet cleaning, etc. Diapers and clothes are washed and ready. But the rest of the house is a mess and the carseat isn't installed, etc. Much to do.<br /><br />We toured the hospital last night - there is a new wing that has just opened for maternity services and it is swanky and nice. I mean, like really really nice. That, more than anything, bummed me out about the increasing likelihood of a c-section. I mean, whatever is necessary to get baby here safely is what needs to happen. But the labor/delivery rooms are incredible and the labor nurses are all doula trained and so on and so on. . . I want a chance for one piece of this (other than conception, as my husband reminded me mischievously) not to require the highest levels of medical intervention and monitoring and care, you know? I won't feel like a failure or anything if it doesn't happen that way, but it would be nice. But again, whatever is needed to get baby here alive and safe and sound.<br /><br />So, that's the rough update. I'm sure I've skipped tons, but frankly, I have to get back to work. Too much left to do and potentially very little time left to do it.CottonSockshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12985852348250115996noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164515774162371836.post-51388251616177186452012-02-22T18:09:00.002-06:002012-02-22T18:24:06.904-06:00Today was a better day.Yesterday wasn't really a lot of fun, what with the fasting and glucose and needle sticks and all. And the surprise 'payroll is running a day early!' escapades and so on. But the good news is that it ended and overall, I slept a little better (by which I mean it didn't take me two hours to fall asleep again after I got up to pee).http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif<br /><br />Today had its moments as well, which weren't fun, but I didn't cry. I didn't feel like crying. I laughed several times. Dealt with a few issues, and absolutely loved the Onion article from today that could be read as a retelling of my recent work experience entitled "Nation Trying, Okay?" (can be found <a href="http://www.theonion.com/articles/nation-trying-okay,27444/">here</a>). (Seriously - LOVED IT).<br /><br />Oh, plus also?<br /><br />I DO NOT HAVE GESTATIONAL DIABETES.<br /><br />Chocolate cake and donuts for all! Ok, not really, because that's not healthy. But I could not be more relieved. All the values from all four draws, plus the HGBA1C, were well within normal ranges/cut offs. That risk being off the table is so huge to me, I cannot explain the buoyant feeling I had much of the day. The idea of the increased risks associated with GD, the additional stress of monitoring and treatment . . . all of it, no longer a concern. Thank you, body, for getting this one right.<br /><br />Of course, the swelling is getting worse and my b/p is creeping up. And my doc said I've got to find a way to destress and cut my hours or I'm going to be pulled out of work, so it's not all roses. And I know nothing about the job application, except that my coworker was apparently really surprised I applied (I wasn't supposed to hear that. But I did.) - I try really hard not to fret and worry over it, though I'm not always successful. I've left work earlier than usual, though there is still work to be done in that arena. I'm scheduled to discuss these issues with my boss soon - not put off on my end, but massive budget reports can't be put off either, and I was happy to wait until we could really discuss it.<br /><br />The anti-depressants were not fun the first few days - nausea, headaches, dizziness, etc. But it seems (a week later) to be getting better, and I do see some improvement. Like I said - sleep is a bit better, not crying every day, feels like a better ability to focus or at least not get completely overwhelmed. I mean, I can still hear the voices and they say awful things, but it's easier to remind myself that my perceptions are skewed right now. I don't know if that makes sense or not. I don't feel suddenly all better, it's possible this is initially a placebo effect, but I feel a little more centered or stable and that makes the day easier, so I'm not going to analyze it too much. <br /><br />So yeah. Something feels a little like sunlight today, and I'm going to take it for what it's worth. And maybe enjoy a cookie.CottonSockshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12985852348250115996noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164515774162371836.post-37963491570950908912012-02-16T21:15:00.002-06:002012-02-16T21:21:05.478-06:00Just to ice the cake . . .Oh, that's an even worse pun than I realized, because I am about to update on my glucose screen - FAIL. Cut off is 130 and I came in at an astonishing 144.<br /><br />Yee-haw.<br /><br />Three hour glucose tolerance test up next, on Tuesday. I cannot express how delighted I am. Of course, if I have GD (as I'd expected to), then I want it known and treated. Unquestionably. But oh, it makes me so nervous - baby is already measuring/weighing ahead of the curve (good growth or macrosoma?) and that is worrisome. As is the risk of delayed lung maturity associated with diabetes (particularly when one considers I've just started taking Zoloft again, which carries a minute risk of breathing problems at birth as well) and the increased risk of prematurely aging placenta. I know I will be in good hands and continue to be monitored and everything, but the anxiety just ratcheted up ten notches.<br /><br />But baby is kicking hard inside me, still head down (back to my right side, I'm guessing), so I have to suppose whatever happens we will be fine.<br /><br />I'm still really unhappy about this whole GTT thing though. Been there, done that before. It's massively boring, headachey, shaky and generally not fun.CottonSockshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12985852348250115996noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164515774162371836.post-44037160018169520772012-02-16T08:35:00.003-06:002012-02-16T09:16:23.595-06:00Update to the last.Not much of one, I'm afraid. I'm feeling pretty scattered and uncertain. I felt a bit more peacefulness having a plan, and to be honest, I had a really nice weekend. I slept a bit better, went out with DH and even updated one of my stories (the Ron/Hermione piece of Controversial Horror That I Just Do Not Get).<br /><br />Oh, right. I need to back up a moment. My coworker/former supervisor announced her resignation Friday. That has affected a number of things. I don't care to go into all the backstory, but I knew awhile ago this was possible, and knew last week when the new job offer was made. The soon-to-be vacant position is a couple of grades higher than my present position, pays well, and is busy and carries a lot of responsibility, but is less work than I am currently trying to manage (being one job, not three). They are looking to hire an internal candidate and to move quickly. I applied yesterday. I have no idea what will happen. I want that job so badly I can taste it, and the thought of not getting it fills me with despair and tears. It would be so much better for me personally that I feel sick whenever I think about it.<br /><br />So that's going on. I had a panicky couple of evenings struggling with rewriting my resume and penning a good cover letter and digging up references and chastising myself for over-thinking the entire fucking thing because, dude, the hiring manager is my current boss; she knows me and is going to hire me or not on the basis of my performance to date and my strengths/weaknesses. She's not even going to read my resume or cover letter except to see if I took it seriously. It's done and out of my hands now though. I don't know if there is anyone else they have in mind, and I haven't spoken to my boss about it except a brief conversation in which I told her I was going to apply and that I wasn't sure about using her as a reference since she is the hiring manager, but that I would like to list her since I'm just updating everything anyway. She said it was fine, not to worry about it, and chuckled. Whatever the hell that means. I'd like to think she wouldn't let me make an ass out of myself and get my hopes up (she knows how badly I want a higher salary and how much is personally dependent on it for me) if I weren't in consideration, but who the fuck knows?<br /><br />I didn't go to work on Monday. I didn't sleep well and was exhausted and decided if there was one day I could spare, that was it. I slept for 6 extra hours and felt relatively good when I got up. I then logged onto my work remotely, thinking I could do one or two things from home, and lo and behold, I had nearly 50 emails. I immediately felt a headache come on and subsequently wanted to cry. So I shut it down and ate some cereal. Tuesday was ok. Yesterday was a lot of walking and an OB appointment.<br /><br />Baby looks fine. Head down (for now), good fluid, cervix over 4 cm (the tech wasn't sure why I had a cerclage, but I didn't bother explaining). Baby kept trying to grab a very long, big foot. It was entertaining to watch. I've only gained 1 pound in the six weeks since I last saw my OB. My b/p was ok, but Dr. B wasn't thrilled with my regular readings. I redid the 1 hour glucose challenge (rather unexpectedly). Talked with Dr. B (whom, you may or may not recall, is due 6 days after I am) about the upcoming rotation and how things will work as she is cutting back hours and availability.<br /><br />And then we talked about the two big things. Work and depression. She said that I have to work less and find a way to reduce the stress. That she will write letters or make calls or do whatever she can to help but that if I don't, she's going to pull me out of work and put me on full bedrest. She said she doesn't like bedrest, it's not fun, she isn't sure how effective it really is, but that if it is the only way she can get me to stop, she will do it. <br /><br />She also agreed, when I laid out my symptoms for her that I am depressed, and that starting medication immediately was a good idea. She wants me to follow through with getting a psych, but called in the prescription for Zoloft with no hesitation. Glad it's not just in my head, anyway.<br /><br />So while it seems like a generally good visit, I left feeling so much worse. When I returned to work, it was nearly 5:00 (DH had to stay late and I had reports due yesterday that I hadn't yet submitted). There were no handicap spots available, but I was already in a lot of pain from the walking I'd done already that day. So I drove around, eventually for 30 minutes, waiting for someone to leave so I could park near the building and go finish my reports. The longer it dragged on, the more upset I got. I started crying in the car as I circled the building.<br /><br />It comes down to this. I feel like an utter failure. I'm failing at my job, and now I have to reduce my hours and my stress. I'm already so far behind I don't know how it's possible. Reduction in hours isn't even realistic, given that I commute with my husband who can't reduce his hours. I feel like I've let everyone down by taking on a task I couldn't handle and now things are falling apart and I'm walking in and announcing my doctor says I have to stop it. I feel like a failure as a mother/pregnant woman because I shouldn't even question the necessity of it or how to do it if it's affecting my child and his/her safety. I can't even manage the balance when the kid isn't even here yet. And I can't stand how limited I am and how bad it makes me feel, like a total failure as a woman because I need that stupid handicap permit and that stupid handicap spot and was in tears of pain because I could barely walk back out to the car to leave last night. It feels like everything I'm touching is failing.<br /><br />Maybe that is depression talking. But there again, is another failure. I managed through the terrible, horrible anxiety of first tri and then through 21 weeks, and then through viability - white knuckled and sick with fear, it's true - but without medication. The times I teetered, I went back to trying to make it. And now my job has driven to back to taking meds and I feel weak. I <span style="font-style:italic;">know</span> that isn't true. I don't think people who need meds are weak, and I've taken meds before and they helped. I think I've been right to say, "No, I'm past the point I can do this without help" and clearly, my OB agrees with me. But it <span style="font-style:italic;">feels</span> like another jeering voice, another cry of "See? You aren't good enough, and you'll never be good enough. Someone else could manage all of this. You are too stupid or too weak to get it right." It's nothing to do with logic, but it hurts a lot.<br /><br />I just want everything to stop. I want the other job to come through, which would resolve my money fears and my daycare dilemmas and the worst of the job issues. I thank those of you who commented or sent messages encouraging me to quit or find a new job or make a plan. I wanted to say - I get it. I do. It's just not that easy when you are 28 weeks pregnant. There is no way I could just quit - we've got debt, not enough savings, my insurance is provided through my job, and I make about 60% of our household income. Quitting is simply not optional. As for a new job - well, I've applied for one. If that doesn't work, there will be serious conversation about how to adjust the current one - but I will, whatever happens on that front, probably look for another job after I return from maternity leave. There is no point in looking now. I do want to say though, that part of what makes it hard is that I actually really like a good deal about my job. Not the current situation, not the new department, but the other departments (frustrating as they can occasionally be, that will be anywhere), and my division. I like where things are headed under the big head boss and I want to be a part of it. That makes the rest of this feel so much worse.<br /><br />Anyway. That's where things are right now. That's where I have to leave it. Just try to get through the day, and then rest. Repeat tomorrow.CottonSockshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12985852348250115996noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164515774162371836.post-62787832621728106832012-02-08T12:33:00.002-06:002012-02-08T13:03:35.271-06:00And the sun will continue to rise.So. Here's the thing.<br /><br />The baby is fine. The husband, pets, assorted family and friends are all generally fine. I, on the other hand, not so fine. <br /><br />I hate to say this. I am a blessed individual in so many ways, that it feels like the height of ingratitude or the grossest display of selfishness and indulgence to be not fine. My health is pretty good, all things taken together; this pregnancy has progressed with relative ease (for me) and relatively minimal physical discomfort (apart from the increasing difficulty that comes with both third tri and diminished physical capacity from weeks of near-bedrest). I have a steady job, a house in decent condition, climate control, many things we don't really need, and I have amazing family and friends who love me more than I deserve.<br /><br />Which makes it hard for me to say what is true: I am depressed. My life currently reads like the questionnaire for a depression medication ad. Work has gone from bad to worse, and the situation is upsetting in the extreme. Most of my stress, but not all of it by any means, stems from work; as things get more grave, I am able to do less and less and I feel more and more incapable of doing any of it. I am not compensated appropriately for what I'm doing and haven't any idea of whether or not appropriate compensation is a) possible or b) forthcoming. That, in turn, is stressing out other things like planning for daycare when the little one arrives and general stresses that many other expectant parents share about how a budget suddenly accommodates a third, quite expensive being.<br /><br />But I came to the realization this week, following what can only be described as an utter and complete meltdown on Friday, in front of my boss and coworkers (that I could not control at all, which <span style="font-style:italic;">kills</span> me with mortification): I am on the verge on a nervous breakdown. I cannot continue to cope with everything.<br /><br />-I no longer see a point at which this gets better.<br />-I no longer see a light at the end of the tunnel.<br />-I no longer have interest in things I enjoy, and no energy or desire to do things I expressed interest in.<br />-I find myself unable to write.<br />-I have no energy or interest in the state of my house.<br />-I am constantly tired, which after a bad day borders more on sheer, total exhaustion. I know this is probably exaggerated by pregnancy and interrupted sleep.<br />-I am having more and more viscerally disturbing dreams.<br />-My appetite is not what could be called desirable.<br />-I find myself lapsing into escapist daydreams more and more frequently.\<br />-I am averaging a cry a day, which is really unlike me generally.<br /><br />The list continues. I am well aware that some of this is normal. Some of this is attributable to circumstances (pregnancy, stressful job). But the sum of it is that it is affecting my life in a negative way. When asked for his opinion my husband said immediately and with no hesitation that yes, I am depressed, and yes, he's noticed. A friend said some time ago that my work situation was untenable, and that something would have to give and I needed to ensure it was not my sanity.<br /><br />It is my sanity.<br /><br />So, here's the deal. My next OB appointment is next week. I intend to lay it out for the OB, and express as fervently as I can (while remaining calm) that this is really adversely affecting my life. That reducing stress at work is not an option, that fewer hours aren't really an option, and that I cannot cope any longer. There is a physical toll this is taking. Seek a prescription for Zoloft or a referral to a psych. Go from there.<br /><br />In one sense, I feel massively relieved for finally stopping the struggle and admitting to myself that this isn't working anymore, that I can't do this. In another sense, I feel like a massive failure at work and at home, and I know that mental health is insidious and awful, so I'm trying not to listen to all of that. Work can't be changed. It's a shitty situation and I'm furious with myself for agreeing to it and putting myself in it. I'm angry that I was overly optimistic about it. I'm angry about the compensation. But I also recognize that it's not changing anytime soon, and if I can't cope with it anymore, then I need to find some other form of support or help.<br /><br />I've known all along that I would probably need meds at some point in this pregnancy, and I've held off for a good long time. Baby is a good weight right now, and one of the reasons I've hesitated to do anything is because of the risks associated with low birthweight, and how important birthweight is to a preemie. I'm hopeful that I can start meds after 30 weeks, when it will be a little critical, especially given baby's current size.<br /><br />I just can't go through everyday feeling like this anymore. I honestly don't know if things will get better. It doesn't feel like it right now. I do know though, that it will either get better or it won't. That at least I'm doing what I can do to get some help. And that no matter what the sun will keep on rising.<br /><br />Or it won't, which will make this pretty moot anyhow. So, really, it's sort of a win-win, right?CottonSockshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12985852348250115996noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164515774162371836.post-43681768166121592222012-01-31T20:02:00.002-06:002012-01-31T20:13:48.324-06:00I don't think I can do it anymore.Work, mostly, I mean. I've spent nearly every day for the past week and a half (which does include the 14 hours I worked this weekend) feeling like I'm being beaten up, run over, and am utterly incapable of doing anything correctly or on time or effectively. Even after finishing the massive report with a scootch of time to spare, there was no sense of accomplishment or relief, only dread about what I'd had to push off and what we'd discovered wasn't done yet or correctly.<br /><br />The stress is unbelievable. There are things going on that make a lot of things feel less stable. A colleague may be leaving. Two months ago, I'd have jumped at her job and I think I'd have been hired for it. If she does leave now, I'd still apply but I have no confidence that they'd actually hire me.<br /><br />Full stop. I have no confidence anymore. I feel like every thing I do is a struggle or wrong. I leave every day feeling like a failure.<br /><br />I don't want to do this anymore. I don't think I can. <br /><br />I have no choice. The situation may change in the future, but it's not going to change in the short-term, unless my colleague leaves. Or something happens way, way above me. <br /><br />I'm not seeking advice, there is none to give. I just need to say somewhere that I feel utterly defeated. That I'm tired. That I'm terrified I will continue to feel like this every single day and the thought makes me want to crawl into bed and never leave again. Demoralized. Exhausted. Wiped out. Like a burden. <br /><br />I'm so tired of it. I used to be good at my job. I miss that feeling.CottonSockshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12985852348250115996noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164515774162371836.post-40103277154669646782012-01-26T16:48:00.002-06:002012-01-26T17:22:20.395-06:00Update on today's perinatalogist apptSo I'm at 25w3d today, and this was just a regular follow-up to check growth, to check the cervix and the cerclage and generally to check in with the peri. <br /><br />In brief: Everything is great! He's very pleased! Very pleased indeed!<br /><br />(also, pretty bouncy. He reminded me of Tigger today)<br /><br />He started by saying, with great enthusiasm, that I was the most pregnant I'd been and it was wonderful! And onwards from there. . .<br /><br />Highlights:<br /><br />- Baby looks good. He got clear views of all chambers of the heart, the face, feet, hands, stomach, spine, etc. Measurements range from on track to a little ahead. Peri was very pleased by the overall measurements and size.<br /><br />- Which leads to . . . baby weighs in at 2 lbs, 1 oz. Of course, this is not an exact science, but the peri was pretty assured s/he is hovering around the 2 lb mark, give or take a few ounces. And he was very happy, because a good birthweight is a contributing factor in success in early birth, should that happen. S/he is above average, but not worrisomely so.<br /><br />- Cervix is at 3.3 cm, which is down from the last check at the OB's office, but well within good/normal standards. The peri complimented himself on the lovely stitch, but then said seriously that it was creating the stable platform for the internal os that we wanted.<br /><br />- AFI (amniotic fluid index)is over 15, which is good. The numerous worries over whether or not the ridiculously copious amounts of discharge are too copious or too watery are laid to rest. Amniotic fluid levels are fine (and consequently, so is baby's digestive system).<br /><br />- Baby remains the same sex baby has been. Not that it matters tremendously, but after all the weeks of calling baby 'Oliver' or 'Vivienne' it would be a shock if that changed.<br /><br />- Baby was breech today, but that doesn't mean anything, since baby was definitely head-down earlier this week. S/He is moving around with no problem - I feel more distinct kicks/thumps when baby is head down - once or twice s/he has moved transverse and it feels weird and baby doesn't seem to care for it much either. I anticipate more flip-flopping over the next few weeks. It's such a cool/weird/stomach-dropping on a roller coaster ride feeling.<br /><br />So, all in all, peri is quite pleased with the normalcy of the progress. I'm quite pleased that things are well. I stopped in the ridiculous overpriced baby boutique in the building (which houses all manner of women and children's health specialists, a baby boutique and maternity store in addition to a couple of other prenatal things) - I managed to avoid the ridiculous frilly dresses and complicated sailor suits (ha! you thought I'd spill here?) and the overpriced practical clothing (seriously, I don't pay that much for my own clothes and I don't vomit or poop on them regularly), but I was suckered in by the softest (duck or chicken down soft) yellow blankie. I could have bought a bouncer for what I paid for it, but since I will not be making one, I couldn't resist. I love it.<br /><br />And, for the record, kiddo is pretty good looking. I admit this isn't the best shot ever, as I took it of the picture with my iPod, but still. We love baby - I keep staring at this in both awe and a vague feeling of 'creepy' because these are sort of creepy, really. Also because there is an echo in the picture where you can see what looks like another face and DH is taking great pleasure in pretending it's an evil mirror twin giving baby evil instructions (like 'Kick the bladder harder! hahahahaha!'). But still, seeing baby and tracing baby's features and comparing to Gabriel (I can't get over how different they look - a result, surely, of both Gabriel's gestational age at birth and the fact that he had DH's long, narrow face with higher cheekbones, while baby has inherited my rounder face and chubby cheeks).<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ZR7dwuM_bYmwahSbj0fdJheM6AJIzR6Fi7ZVMFDuzjNsD4PBa0Y03uQfHtoHyqt3Jzi7v77QgKNKVIv61peJmppL1o5KGWCoVHSeouUdD3Ulq74HdzoJ_MlJ2YB6z81bNHa4hVba4Zw/s1600/VRSR_1.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ZR7dwuM_bYmwahSbj0fdJheM6AJIzR6Fi7ZVMFDuzjNsD4PBa0Y03uQfHtoHyqt3Jzi7v77QgKNKVIv61peJmppL1o5KGWCoVHSeouUdD3Ulq74HdzoJ_MlJ2YB6z81bNHa4hVba4Zw/s320/VRSR_1.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5702085003940937378" /></a><br /><br />Really, in the midst of an awful, shitty week that has had me feeling beaten down and trampled over, this was a good day.CottonSockshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12985852348250115996noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164515774162371836.post-52492343463377236232012-01-24T14:26:00.002-06:002012-01-24T14:38:14.151-06:00Weird dreamI frequently have weird dreams and pregnancy has made that worse. Usually I lose part of the plot so they make no sense when I try to share them, but this one was worth sharing, especially when I finally remembered why I wasn't totally freaked out.<br /><br />I dreamed baby came early, like this week. Which you would think would be scary and awful, but instead everyone was really relieved. I remember telling DH that it was much better this way because now I could go to work without worrying about the stress levels or blood pressure or anything. And I remember DH and I were excited that we got to watch baby develop.<br /><br />But then I figured out why we weren't upset - we would put the baby back. So it was sort of like daycare - we'd take the baby out and put the baby in NICU for a day or two and then put the baby back inside me for awhile so the baby got the best of both worlds.<br /><br />So freaking bizarre.CottonSockshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12985852348250115996noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164515774162371836.post-67733952048312583782012-01-20T16:58:00.003-06:002012-01-20T17:32:55.340-06:00BDSM is really more my thing, plus updatesRight - over 24 weeks! Yay! Viability! Yay! I meant to update Monday with a new bump picture and yeah, it didn't happen. And then all sorts of shit happened at work and I've had about three meltdowns in which I cried, declared myself a failure, cried some more, wondered what the fuck I'm going to do, etc.<br /><br />The answer - no fucking clue but persevere, and something will work out or something will break and so long as it isn't my sanity and I continue to have a job, then I'm sort of 'whatever' about it at this point.<br /><br />As for what the hell the title means, well. The gist of it is this: I write fanfiction, of the Harry Potter variety. I know I've said this before, and it's no secret. I have also explained before that I generally prefer a pairing of Hermione with a twin and really don't dig Ron and Hermione. Frankly, I think it was lazy of JK Rowling, but whatever. She's the author, she's got the money, she doesn't care what I think and I've got fanfiction to correct what I find amiss. But I recently began publishing a story (a canon compliant Ron/Hermione story) that dealt with pregnancy loss and infertility and it was really personal and holy fuck. <br /><br />Because my profile said I prefer twin/Hermione pairings, and because my teaser hinted George might have a solution to Ron and Hermione's infertility problems, you'd have thought I personally insulted the mother of some of these people. It got significantly worse when I posted chapter 2 and there was a two sentence exchange after George shows Hermione a copy of an ancient ritual he's found that might help them get pregnant, and Hermione realizes a third person has to be present to cast an incantation while the couple are intimate. That's all I said. I didn't say they'd do it - she and Ron agree to consider it. It's very dangerous, potentially illegal, etc. And it was two sentences out of 6500+ words - but it's what people latched onto. I got some really negative responses (reviews and PMs) and it honestly really started to upset me. Like in a bad way. I feel stupid because, dude, there is no universal approval and it's fucking fanfic. But it really was bothering me, especially when I was called perverted. I mean, I write smutty stuff, I write some kink, and not only has it been well received, but this particular piece is one of the least smutty/explicit adult fictions I've written, ever.<br /><br />So let me state here for the record, set it straight - Incestuous voyeurism is not my preferred kink. As I said above, BDSM is really more my style.<br /><br />Gah.<br /><br />Baby seems to be enjoying the music I'm playing right now, and is dancing inside me. Sort of nice, as baby had managed to turn in such a way that I wasn't feeling nearly as much movement. Dance away, little one! <br /><br />I'm still receiving the shots, things seem good. Baby is definitely growing, and lord do I get sore during these growth spurts as my uterus grows and my abdomen separates to make room. Those are the times I'm glad I'm restricted, because if I were doing this while maintaining a normal activity level, I think I'd want to die. Pregnancy is painful.<br /><br />I stumbled onto this song on my iPod today, and given the way work has been going, given the way I've been feeling about my writing overall, given a lot of things, but especially the confusing feelings that swirl about my babies - the one inside my belly and the one inside my heart - that I really am not ready to write down and analyze, but hover between joy and fear and pain and love - this song seems appropriate. I've played it several times today, and I think it's my song for my kids. Do you have songs that represent things? I have tons of theme songs, if you will.<br /><br />This one is (of course) by Noel Gallagher - The Masterplan. I dunno that I believe in a masterplan. I railed against the idea of such a thing after Gabriel died, but sometimes. . . I don't know. I just love this song.<br /><br />Take the time to make some sense<br />Of what you want to say<br />And cast your words away upon the waves<br />Bring them back with Acquiesce<br />On a ship of hope today<br />And as they fall upon the shore<br />Tell them not to fear no more<br />Say it loud and sing it proud<br />And they...<br /><br />Will dance if they want to dance<br />Please brother take a chance<br />You know they're gonna go<br />Which way they want to go<br />All we know is that we don't know<br />What is gonna be<br />Please brother let it be<br />Life on the other hand won't let you understand<br />Why we're all part of the masterplan<br /><br />I'm not saying right is wrong<br />It's up to us to make<br />The best of all things that come our way<br />And all the things that have been have past<br />The answer's in the looking glass<br />There's four and twenty million doors<br />Down life's endless corridor<br />Say it loud and sing it proud<br />And they...<br /><br />Will dance if they want to dance<br />Please brother take a chance<br />You know they're gonna go<br />Which way they want to go<br />All we know is that we don't know<br />What is gonna be<br />Please brother let it be<br />Life on the other hand won't let you understand<br />Why we're all part of the masterplanCottonSockshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12985852348250115996noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164515774162371836.post-33971610738436312202012-01-02T21:14:00.003-06:002012-01-02T22:08:43.756-06:0022 weeks, a new year and shameToday equals 22 weeks. Yay! And also, nail-biting. It is good to be beyond the point I lost Gabriel. And it's scary to think that if anything goes wrong in the next two weeks then I will face the same thing, hear the same words and cradle a body for far too little time. My friend T has been faithfully emailing me each week with a countdown to viability. I admit, hearing 2 more weeks! is lovely, but I just need it to be here already so that I can relax more. <br /><br />But as little one is very squirmy, I feel some relief. I just hope what I continue to refer to as copious amounts of discharge is really just that and not a slow fluid leak. Er, not that I'm paranoid or anything.<br /><br />Let's see. A new year started. We celebrated with sparkling grape juice. It was tasty, but not quite the same as champagne. There really isn't much to add. Returning to work was not fun, but at least I'm feeling like there is a possibility that I may not be behind forever. We'll see if that changes tomorrow. I wish things were easier, but it's better not to dwell too much on work, lest I have another breakdown.<br /><br />Beyond that, if I've made any half-hearted revolution, it's to write more. I've been fairly shut down this pregnancy - between the pregnancy and work, I just don't feel like expressing a lot. I certainly feel a lot, I turn over posts in my mind, start crafting them. I wish to find the right words but when I re-read it later, everything feels repetitive and difficult. Likewise, I have not updated my stories in months. I've re-read them, started working on new chapters and then . . . nothing. I just do not wish to work much on them, and the bit I write feels shallow, rings false. It's frustrating. I know I can do better, but it's not flowing right now and I don't want to post crap for the sake of posting something.<br /><br />Switching tacks with no warning, we went to BRU (it was hard not to hyperventilate - will these reactions ever stop?), and finished the registry I started. Well, probably still needs some work, but really, for all intents and purposes, it's fine. While there, we bought a teddy bear for the baby. We've bought clothes, but those don't really feel like they are for her, per se. But the teddy - I didn't realize why I was so drawn to it until we got home, but the ribbon around the teddy's neck was the same color that I'm using for the border on the name-letters. It was meant to be, I guess. We spent some time Saturday night going over all the clothes, organizing them by size, taking stock of what we need yet (3-6 month is the short answer - with spring/summer stuff coming out shortly, it should be easy to add in). It felt like a game, more than anything. But it's been several days with nothing bad happening, so it's likely to continue that way. I hope.<br /><br />I am sleepy now. Being sick last week took a lot of me, and I have to get up early because I have to go talk with the parking department at work. Apparently, the state-issued temporary parking tag is not sufficient to park in handicap parking on my campus. I have to further register with parking and get a secondary decal. Annoying. <br /><br />Actually the whole disabled parking tag has been a fiasco. It was recommended back in November, and I was told in mid-November that my OB would in fact support the request by signing the forms if I completed them and brought them in. Since I didn't see her until mid-December, I didn't get the necessary paperwork until then. Which was fine, I didn't yet feel I really needed it. Once the paperwork, including a prescription from my doctor, was complete, I had to take it to the county tax office in order to get the state-issued permit. There is a branch near us which is supposedly less busy than our downtown/central branch. It's attached to where we got our marriage license, and where we recently went to get the car registration corrected. I thought then that it was busy because of the near hour-long wait in line the day before Thanksgiving. I was wrong. Early morning on a Friday was worse. The line was wrapped through the building. <br /><br />I miserably told one person why I was there ("To get a temporary handicap placard" - that will be important later), and was directed through the building, with sympathy, to the back of the line. About an hour later, I was in the main room I needed to be, where another employee was directing traffic between three sets of windows (to give credit to the branch office, they had at least 9 windows open and seemed to move as quickly as possible). To properly assess which line was the correct one for me, she asked my business and I repeated what I said earlier - "I'm here to get a temporary handicap permit." - and was summarily sent into another line.<br /><br />About twenty minutes later, I remark to Dh that I've been standing for about an hour longer than I should. It starts taking a toll on me. I was getting warm and uncomfortable, and shifting a good deal, and started feeling as if I might faint. I began muttering to DH that I needed this to hurry up and I needed to get out of there. About twenty more minutes elapsed before we finally got to a service window. I lean against the counter with some relief, slide my paperwork through to the lady, who is coincidentally the same one who helped with our car registration. She asks if I am the disabled person seeking the permit, and I confirm that I am. Incidentally, the paperwork didn't indicate whether or not it could be submitted by someone else, which is why I stood in line the whole time; if I had to be there, we didn't want to waste a trip. The nice lady looks up, blinks, and then asks why I went through the entire line.<br /><br />Apparently, I could have skipped the line and requested special assistance because of my disability. I could have cried. There were no signs posted or instructions; apparently, the little blue universal handicap sign hidden by the front door ought to have been clear enough by itself. The woman sent me to sit down, and said my husband could take care of the rest. They chatted as she confirmed the paperwork was in order, the prescription was valid and the doctor was licensed in Texas. DH told me she got very irate when she found out that two employees had been told my purpose there and didn't bother to ask if I were the disabled, probably because I was ambulatory (at this point she shook her finger at DH and said, "And that is why you have to ask, because you just never know!"), and she was really irate when the license number for my physician confirmed she was an OB/GYN. Apparently, she got her supervisor involved, and they were both horrified. Lovely, but too late. I didn't care though, because sitting down was such a relief.<br /><br />I did get the permit, and I have guiltily used it a couple of times now. I make it a point not to use it if there is equally decent parking available, and I don't use it if I am not getting out of the car, because that's cheating. But all my scruples are in vain, because I did use it Saturday at the grocery store. Keep in mind, I rarely go into the grocery store, because I am a terrible impulse buyer and we wasted food and money when I did a lot of the shopping. DH by himself is faster and easily $50-100 cheaper than I am, and if we have less variety, we likewise have less waste. Anyway, Saturday isn't a great time for the store anyway, and being NYE afternoon, it was insane. There was little parking available, and I felt no hesitation in taking a handicap spot, since I was planning to go in with DH for at least 15 minutes. Because I have a temporary permit and not tags, it's easy not to see the permit if you are behind the car. Between that, and the fact that I look more elephantine than pregnant if you don't know me, and I am clearly not elderly, we got a lot of nasty, nasty looks when we got out and walked into the store. It was wildly uncomfortable. I wished very much for a sandwich board or a card that said "Hey! High-risk pregnancy here! No really!" and the flip side would say something like, "Dead baby in my history, trying to keep this one alive." Perhaps I'd feel less guilty then?<br /><br />I know I need this, which is why it was suggested and why my doctor signed off. It's getting harder to walk and the heavier the baby gets, the more pressure that is on my cervix. The longer we can keep pressure off, the better off we are and the more likely we are to a) avoid modified to full bed rest and b) stay pregnant longer. But the restrictions weigh on me. I hate feeling useless or as if I am just being lazy or promoting terrible stereotypes. Logically, I know that's not true, and yet. . .<br /><br />and yet, baby is well. Moving a good deal. Lots of squirms and stronger thumps when they come. That is where I need to focus, I think.<br /><br />Bonus for you for sticking through this all (in the most vain possibly way to mean bonus), here is me and baby at 22 weeks:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf7GB5o8kVg6JcKp-r1OIMtOZxPKwnR3SDM03u_eGUKLd45YsIvzn_PN5rHoE-QpsI77lWioSdn5x4NYsUzD4-RACtWoDCKFxsSMU2iePG1GEiwLSvS3tFk1E4iogqtDYt5LbXHHl9s8Q/s1600/22w_b.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf7GB5o8kVg6JcKp-r1OIMtOZxPKwnR3SDM03u_eGUKLd45YsIvzn_PN5rHoE-QpsI77lWioSdn5x4NYsUzD4-RACtWoDCKFxsSMU2iePG1GEiwLSvS3tFk1E4iogqtDYt5LbXHHl9s8Q/s200/22w_b.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5693252739110335170" /></a>CottonSockshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12985852348250115996noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164515774162371836.post-40973752303346383262011-12-29T14:45:00.002-06:002011-12-29T15:01:14.291-06:00Bits and bobblesToday is 21 weeks and 3 days gestation.<br /><br />In other words, we made it through The Day. Christmas Eve was busy, I barely noticed. It was a nice holiday though, with my brother and SIL and my mom. We had an unexpected Christmas Day guest though, when my mother left to return home and had a blow-out about fifteen minutes away from our house. Bless her heart, she was so upset because they told her she couldn't make it all the way home on her spare tire. She was afraid of inconveniencing us and upset because my brother and SIL were supposed to stay at her house that evening, which wasn't possible if she were in Houston. It all worked out though, and I was selfishly glad we got more time with her.<br /><br />Unfortunately, I've not felt up to updating because I finally succumbed to sickness. Since November, I've been cooped up in my ridiculous office with at least once sick coworker. I think they all went out at least twice between November and December, and I managed to avoid illness . . . until I go on vacation. Started as congestion, then became a head cold complete with wicked sore throat, and then worse congestion and then a light cough, followed by a worse cough. I spent most of Monday in bed, Tuesday on the couch, Wednesday moping on the couch because I felt like shit and had planned to go into work and get some stuff caught up, but felt too bad to do it. Then I had a breakdown about 5 am where I cried and cried (and coughed a lot) and told DH I am terrible at my job, I feel like I'm one forgetful day away from total crisis and losing my job, and I can't continue doing this. How much of that was fatigue and how much was finally admitting that I don't want to keep trying anymore, I can't say. I am dreading a return though. I really do loathe my job at this point and I don't know how to fix it or make it better.<br /><br />Baby seems to be fine, though I've definitely lost weight. I've had no appetite all week long, and haven't eaten enough. Little one seems oblivious - just keeps twisting and turning and kicking in there. I had a moment yesterday where I thought I hadn't felt movement in awhile, and needed a doppler check - literally put the probe down right on top of the heartbeat, which was reassuring. Passing The Day was a relief (though the moments of reflection made me miss Gabriel so intensely I can't put it into words), but I won't really feel better until we are past viability. Of course, that is not a magic cure, but at least there is a chance then, when there isn't yet, even if we are past Gabriel's birth point. I know I just won't completely relax until the living, breathing little one is in my arms, and then it's just a whole new set of worries.<br /><br />I am beginning to believe that we will see this baby, though. It's disconcerting and not a little frightening. I've bought clothes and baby gear just for this baby and it still seemed like a game. Practical matters like finding daycare if my mom can't move out here (another panic attack related to work when I considered that), finding a pediatrician, etc. . . that all needs to be started and I am utterly uninterested. It's still so hard to believe, that I just don't yet. <br /><br />I have more to add on so many things, but this headache is getting worse. Ugh. I'm so pissed off about being sick!CottonSockshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12985852348250115996noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164515774162371836.post-92157004355050394882011-12-19T09:31:00.003-06:002011-12-19T15:54:35.787-06:00Twenty WeeksThat is today.<br /><br />According to various online experts (parroting stuff taken from various printed book experts), the baby is about 10.5" inches long and weighs about 13 oz. Baby is gaining weight steadily, adding insulation for birth. Baby is swallowing several ounces of amniotic fluid per day, kidneys are processing it, the digestive system is beginning to produce meconium, and taste buds are forming. The uterus is now level with the belly button (or just above, in my case) and baby should be moving a fair amount, though how much one feels the movement depends on the location of the placenta and where the baby is located.<br /><br />Many people think of this as the half-way point in pregnancy, and celebrate being half-baked.<br /><br />I look at this and realize it's the week I've been dreading all along.<br /><br />Hand me a paper bag?<br /><br />I'm torn between wanting to be at work, where the avalanche of back-log threatens to topple, and only the business staff are present. There is plenty to choose from, plenty that needs to be done before we go on break for a week. And there are plenty of people with less to do who wish they were on vacation and therefore plenty of conversations to be had. So - distraction aplenty.<br /><br />But I'd also rather be in the waiting room at my doctor's office, you know, just in case. No, I won't disturb anyone, I'll just watch the fishes and gaze out the window, if that's all right. Maybe go down to the hospital cafeteria for lunch, since it's only three floors from the antepartum unit. Nice and close by, if it's needed.<br /><br />Half of me is busy trying to finish up Christmas things - all of DH's family's gifts must be wrapped to go with BIL on Wednesday night (which means we need to make a pit-stop for some chocolate and gift-cards for the sisters-in-law). All of my family's gifts need to be wrapped and cards sent to my grandmother and my sister. I haven't purchased one single item for my husband, for his stocking or his gifts, though I've been informed that he's perfectly happy to wait until after Christmas, if it's easier. The house still needs massive cleaning and I've promised to bake banana bread and make fudge for the office, and we've got a happy hour Wednesday night, and did I mention we're hosting my brother and SIL and mother for Christmas Eve, so there is a menu to be fleshed out, shopping to be done and preparations for Christmas dinner to be started?<br /><br />And all of it leading up to Christmas Eve - which is, incidentally, 20w5d. In case that isn't wholly clear, 20w5d is the gestational day at which I went into labor and delivered Gabriel. <br /><br />I have never wanted so much for a week to be over. <br /><br />And this is just one more milestone - granted, it's a big one. The biggest yet. But it's only of small relief to pass it, because we are still four weeks (as of today) from viability. We need more time yet, and I feel wild for it to be here already. The thoughts swirl darkly in the back of my mind that we will pass this weekend - after all, why shouldn't we? - and get to 21 or 22 or 23 weeks only to have something go wrong before that salvation of a day at 24 weeks. And won't that taste be bitter in my mouth?<br /><br />There is no relaxing, no relief, no lowering of the guard, not yet. No matter how often I repeat the mantra "This is a different pregnancy, this is a different baby. We've done everything we can do to keep baby safe." It rings hollowly. They are only words until this baby is safely in my arms, breathing and alive and with the promise of coming in that same state.<br /><br />And the knowledge that 24 weeks isn't a magical marker at which all problems vanish is there. I cling to that date, but I am aware of the real statistics. I know the outcomes, and I know that babies still die, that there are still very real and present risks, and longterm complications, and so I am not content with that date either. But at the least, that gives us a chance. <br /><br />But to get there, we have to first get through here, through this week.<br /><br />It's going to be a long week, particularly when it's so hard to breathe evenly and not let my heart race away in panic.CottonSockshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12985852348250115996noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164515774162371836.post-20444349429164888592011-12-15T22:20:00.002-06:002011-12-15T22:52:52.429-06:00And suddenly two weeks passed . . .So the anatomy scan went well, but I sort of needed some time to process it. The scan itself went so quickly and with so little explanation as it went that I wasn't convinced for awhile that things really were ok. The perinatalogist said the baby looked good, the cervix looked good and he was quite pleased. But since the scan took about 20 minutes, I asked DH several times whether or not the peri had actually measured everything and whether or not DH thought we needed to be worried about anything.<br /><br />The answer was consistently yes, and no.<br /><br />The sex was confirmed, by the way, unmistakably. Since we've suspected it all along, and since it concurred with the bloodwork that was done, it wasn't as climactic or exciting as it was with Gabe. Rather just a sigh of relief that we'd not been calling baby by the wrong name all along. I did cave and tell a few people what we are expecting, but on the whole, I'm keeping it to myself. Only one person at work knows, though it's possible others have guessed by overhearing snippets of our conversation. Our families don't know and I'm not sure whether I'll tell or not. DH leans towards yes, but I enjoy having a secret. My mom really wants to know though, and it seems to have become a game to see if she can get me to slip up and tell. Given that I've purchased some new gender-specific things, it may be hard to hide when she visits for Christmas. I certainly did slip up on a pronoun once and she was all over it, so she at least suspects. <br /><br />Things seem to be well, but Christmas Eve looms. That is the gestational date at which I went into labor with Gabriel. Everything is different this time and I logically know that. But logic has little to do with fear. I'm trying to be calm and sometimes it works. Other times, I just want it to hurry up and move along.<br /><br />The 17p is happening each week. The injection isn't bad, but the throbbing/soreness at the injection site is not fun, nor are the killer headaches that follow for two days after. But if it helps, worth it I suppose. I'm just hoping everything goes smoothly tomorrow, which is supposed to be my first visit with the home health nurse for injection. The meds are supposed to arrive earlier in the day via FedEx - the last thing that was supposed to arrive via FedEx was delayed a week when the driver claimed he had no access to the delivery address. I suppose our remote control gate that every other driver can access with ease was just mystifying. But given that we are discussing meds that I have to receive tomorrow, let's cross fingers, shall we?<br /><br />Work continues on apace, though this hasn't been the best week. I was feeling more optimistic for awhile, but now I'm drowning in what needs to be done before the holiday vacation and concerned it's not going to work out properly. It's obnoxious to share an office with three other full time staff and a rotation of 4 interns. At least we're all getting along now, which was not the case for awhile. Even pleasant, at times, but not a good work environment for me. I've worked an extra eight hours this week in the evenings just to have some peace and quiet to get something done. Of course, it's beneficial when I have to take half a day off to go home and wait for medication to be delivered (ha, in multiple ways). I just wish I felt more settled or more hopeful that things would get better. On the bright side, my doctor signed off on a temporary handicap permit, which will eliminate much of the walking I do.<br /><br />I don't do much anymore these days. I follow all the restrictions, which is how it should be. It gets tiresome though. I was actually depressed over the weekend when I couldn't do anything to help with Christmas decorations - it was either over 10 lbs or involved step-stools or too much bending and twisting. I can't do much of the housework, and my pubic bones starts aching if I stand too long or walk too much (worse at the end of the week) which makes trips outside the house oh so fun. In short, I feel like an invalid and a burden, and while there are good reasons for these restrictions, it frustrates me to feel that I can't do much. A good motivator for getting into better shape whenever this is over; I can't tell you how much I've taken for granted the ability to move and not get winded walking from the car to the office.<br /><br />But overall, things are well with us all. The animals are good, and largely sweet. All have been more cuddly than usual. DH spoils me and could not be a better partner in the face of all my restrictions and fears. He remains upbeat and positive, and has done so much to clean the house and decorate for Christmas (things he loathes) and tries hard to make me laugh and keep me going.<br /><br />I will end here with a picture. The baby and I at 19.5 weeks. God knows I didn't do this enough with Gabriel, to my regret, but I was self-conscious and thought we had time. I have some earlier photos, but they are mostly icky. The quality of this isn't stunning, but it was taken with my iPod, so we'll just blame that.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuMHBsrsikd305x_JlA4ayswPeRSa5ih5stFqtQlRqnG0RhAB-9ROZUQl-AEO52mw6vxmKi7g9iFMiggdNbuBptlF6OZN7YkTW6ZcP_Jg05WtUDq33_GbwuRuhEuAJeqVRRX1LTKbKozE/s1600/19w3d.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuMHBsrsikd305x_JlA4ayswPeRSa5ih5stFqtQlRqnG0RhAB-9ROZUQl-AEO52mw6vxmKi7g9iFMiggdNbuBptlF6OZN7YkTW6ZcP_Jg05WtUDq33_GbwuRuhEuAJeqVRRX1LTKbKozE/s200/19w3d.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5686584576290968226" /></a>CottonSockshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12985852348250115996noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164515774162371836.post-43003498474953986712011-11-28T19:45:00.002-06:002011-11-28T20:20:01.647-06:00Oh, Right. Blog. Hi. Um. 17 weeks!I've been informed that I am a terrible correspondent (true) and that it's now been officially over a month since I updates (er, also true). Um. Sorry?<br /><br />I am officially 17 weeks today, and the baby is somewhere between an onion and a mango in length, if you can believe that. I can, in that holy shit am I big and does this kiddo move around and stretch luxuriously. I can't, in that, whaaaaa? How'd that happen?<br /><br />Slowly, with a lot of trepidation and freakouts and worry, is the answer. The cerclage is still in place (to my knowledge. Not that it would, like, just fall out or anything, but since I can't see it or feel it usually, I have to assume a bit here), and so far as I am able to ascertain (despite numerous frights), my water has not broken. Baby moves around a lot, nearly everyday now. I'm bigger than I was when I delivered Gabriel, with an honest-to-goodness visible bump amongst all the fat. There was a two week period in which an anterior placenta dulled the bits of movement I'd been feeling and wildly interfered with picking up any sort of reliable heart rate on doppler, but it seems those dark days are behind us. I am trying very hard to use the doppler only twice a week as needed, and so far it's going ok. (Tip: Go out of town for five days and leave it behind. That helps with the not using it part, but does tend to ratchet up the anxiety. Six of one, half a dozen of the other)<br /><br />I should have updated sooner. I intended to, but then I wanted to wait for news. And then I was having freakouts, and God, if I'm tired of living them, not only do I not want to relive them in prose, but I assume everyone else is pretty tired as well. Oh, right, and work. Which . . . is probably best left alone. I can be concise (for once) and say that I do not love my job right now. I can be accurate and say I loathe it, and dread most work days because of whatever the fuck else is possibly going to happen. I dream of winning the lottery, or some windfall in the division that allows us to hire new people so someone could take one of my departments. My boss is great though, encouraging and kind and very sensitive to the difficulties (work and pregnancy) and the restrictions I'm facing, which is great. So, onwards. I guess. Not like there is any other option, anyway.<br /><br />So yes, things are ok. Thanksgiving was nice, but it was nerve-wracking as well. So much talk about baby and buying of baby things and no doppler (only movement) to reassure and there were some scary times. But all is well. Really, apart from the crippling anxiety and the cerclage and high-risk monitoring, it's been a remarkably easy/textbook sort of pregnancy so far. I mean, I still have a lot of food issues and I'm only now over a week without vomiting, but overall things are ok. No crazy bleeding, no reasonably scary weirdness - just aches and pains and the crippling terror that necessarily attends this fiasco.<br /><br />DH chooses to be positive, and I've started tentatively talking about what life will be like with baby. It feels a bit like a game, like our lottery game (how will we spend the money? what trips will we take? how many bedrooms in our new house? etc), as I ask whether we'll do arts and crafts with baby, whether we'll take baby to the zoo, whether or not we should register for two car seats or one. It's fun, but there is nothing in it but idle chatter, and a bit of hope or longing. I still cannot wholly shake the countdown in my head that has observed less than four weeks before the point at which Gabriel was born. It feels portentious, heavy on me. I can talk about April, but not with the fervent tones of a believer. More like one who makes plans for Rapture Day (If I'm still here, I suppose I'd be free for dinner. But you know there's a chance I won't be here, right? I'm not like the rest of you people). I think I honestly fear stillbirth more than anything. It's like - we've addressed the obvious problems and concerns (I start 17p this Friday, more on that in a moment), so those things are much less likely to go wrong. That only leaves things outside my control. More than once while at my mom's, I stopped, took a deep breath and reminded myself that this baby seems to be developmentally on track, as Gabriel was, and that given that history, I'm back to the 1-2% chance of things not going well, which are decent odds, altogether. Wish I believed it.<br /><br />Occasionally, I get a bit lightheaded or dizzy, but I can generally link it back to too much time on my feet or not eating recently enough. I'm trying, but I struggle at work to eat regularly (let alone healthfully) and it's a habit I need to break. I didn't have nearly enough today, but I'm full from the soup I ate, and it's hard to make myself eat more now. <br /><br />The restrictions are ok at times, necessary at other times, and well, restrictive, at still other times. It's hard because of course, I want to do whatever I can, but I am so invalided and when I feel strong or capable of walking or standing or bending or lifting, I want to do it. There are times it's nice to tease DH about what I can't do, but ultimately, it's terribly humbling to have to ask for assistance with things that should be easy, or to sit down after being on my feet for ten minutes, or to be completely winded at the top of my stairs, because I am losing what teeny bit of fitness I had. . .<br /><br />But whatever it takes, I guess, and it's not so bad. I try to see it less as restrictive and more as a proactive approach to keeping me off bedrest. I'll let you know when that start working.<br /><br />Friday is the first detailed anatomy/anomaly scan. It's a bit early at 17 and a half weeks, but that's standard for my perinatologist, apparently (he did schedule it quite specifically). So far I'm not anxious, but I expect I will be later. I feel a bit more strongly (today) that baby is healthy. So far, so good anyhow. My NT test results were fantastic, so I'm hoping for further confirmation things look ok. Also curious to see what the infamous Jack or Jill gender determination test has to say - rather, whether it is correct in its prediction or no. The actual sex doesn't matter. There are reasons I want both sexes and reasons I don't want either sex. But I want to know, to have some more time to spend knowing who this LO is, I guess. Those few days with Gabriel were wonderful - magical. I guess I want a bit of that again, but I'm not yet holding my breath for it all.<br /><br />Days flow into each other, into nights, and I sleep, often fitfully. I awaken between three and four and have to pee and then run over the list (of all the things left undone and all the ways I suck at my job) until my mind wrests itself away from the negative feelings and I sleep again. Mornings are never long enough, sadness. I love the weekends, when I can sleep in. I dread the weekends when they draw to a close, and I have to go back to work again. I worry over the status of my vaginal discharge, perpetually wondering what watery means. I catch myself holding one-sided conversations in my head with baby, and I smile sometimes.<br /><br />I rub my hands over my bump, knowing it's not really baby so much as everything baby has pushed aside as my uterus swells (it's nearly up to my belly button), but I rub all the same, perhaps hoping for some luck from the buddha, vaguely guessing I've got it mixed up somehow, but for a moment content all the same. These moments are fewer than I might like, but they do exist. Just in case though, I think I'll start reading aloud soon. I never got to read to Gabriel about what happened to that unfortunate storm cloud that flew near the honeybees. I'd like to imagine him there, listening to me read to his little sibling, approving of the story; flight of fancy or spirit of my son matters not in the imagining - as is true of all great stories, I think.CottonSockshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12985852348250115996noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164515774162371836.post-27725123313292817362011-10-27T18:54:00.002-05:002011-10-27T19:37:36.368-05:00Sewn up like the Bayeux Tapestry, to quote my friend TNT Scan yesterday:<br /><br />Went well. Nasal bone very prominently and clearly present (looks like this little heffalump* was not as lucky as his/her brother in that department and may have inherited DH's family's more, erm, prominent nose). Nuchal fold measured at 1.6 each time. Brain, heart, stomach all present, no apparent gross open neural tube defects. I left feeling vastly relieved. This kiddo is very obliging, and was in perfect position and holding still for the initial and most important measurements, and then started dancing around for us. Also, hiccuping (interfered with the heart rate, because it would lurch with the hiccups. Cute.). <br /><br />Actual results will be available in about a week, but given the clear u/s I'm not concerned and was in fact comfortable with proceeding with the cerclage. The tech did not give an official guess because she couldn't at this early stage, and I had the Jack and Jill fetal DNA test done, which would tell us, so . . . (sidenote, the test is offered for free as a courtesy to my OB's patients because she refers all her patients to this place, otherwise we would have declined). However, she did say aloud that she would lean towards a particular sex. Interested to see what comes back on the DNA test and of course on future u/s. We do think we will keep it to ourselves, though.<br /><br />Cerclage:<br /><br />No eating after midnight, so I had a glass of milk at 11 and went to bed. Woke up about midnight with terrible diarrhea, but glad that was out of the way yesterday. Never did sleep well again, knowing I'd be up in about 4 hours.<br /><br />Got up at 4:45 to take a shower. Then got dressed and was ready by 5:15. The cab was picking us up at 5:30, and I needed to be at the surgical center at 6:00. Timing worked out well. I got there about ten til. Too bad it didn't open until 6:00 on the nose - the mosquitos are awful right now.<br /><br />I was scheduled second of the first five, so I completed my paperwork and paid relatively quickly and was back in prep by 6:30. Got changed, into bed and then they had anesthesia come talk to me (haha, jokes on me, it was under general in the end). The anesthesiologist was quick to reassure me that the drug they used has been used in pregnant patients for over 25 years and was safe for me and baby. That was honestly the first time it had ever crossed my mind to wonder about that. Mom fail?<br /><br />The anesthetist had a very difficult time placing the IV. Three tries in the end and my left hand, wrist and arm are purple. Turns out they do better when they don't use a tourniquet. Go figure. I was told that I would not be sedated before being wheeled down because the sedation they normally use wasn't safe. Ok, shrug. They did an u/s to check position of the heffalump and I watched him/her roll around and stretch several times. That kiddo is just always, always active. And then DH was brought back and then Dr. K showed up and checked the u/s again (but oddly, I wasn't laying back, so he had trouble and his CRL measurement was a full week back of the first one today and the measurements yesterday . . . heh). <br /><br />Then DH took my ring and my glasses and they wheeled me down and moved me onto the table and had me taking deep breaths of oxygen, and then they had me taking deep breaths of oxygen only my throat was very, very sore and I was coughing some and I couldn't open my eyes and then they said "Can't find it, um, should I get someone?" Followed by "Oh, sorry, no it's right there. Fetal heart tones look great via u/s." And then I tried to open my eyes and they said I was all done and did I want some juice? And my husband would join me soon.<br /><br />I got some juice, and my throat hurt a lot. And there was a lot of pressure and I could feel the stitch which was weird. DH arrived and I was pretty in and out of it for awhile. I know I asked him a couple of times about what the doctor told him. My b/p was sort of high, though again at home, it's been ok. It was decreasing by the time I left. Got dressed and called the cab and then we came home.<br /><br />I went to the bathroom. Mild spotting, nothing big, some cramping, but like light menstrual cramps, nothing scary. Again I could feel the stitch when I went to the bathroom, though now it's not really a big deal. I stretched out on the couch and have taken a few naps. Not the most comfy ever, but not terrible. I'm still feeling lazy and sloth-like. Some cramping that Tylenol has taken care of, spotting seems to be nearly gone.<br /><br />We tried to get a doppler reading, but the kiddo was moving way to much. We'd catch it then whoosh- moved. If it's moving that much, I think we're good. <br /><br />So yeah. It's going to be ok, maybe. For the first time I'm thinking there is a possibility of this working out. Never thought I would actually get this far. But here we are - second tri and sewn up tight.<br /><br />The restrictions - which I've known about for a long time - are a little daunting, but they will become second nature I'm sure. Going to be a long few weeks, but I'm hopeful, I think. Just taking it easy right now - I am not looking at anything work related, just chilling on the couch. All. Weekend. Long.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">*heffalump came after the NT scan when one of said jokingly, 'we've got a heffalump that jumps in there.' it's been sticking.</span>CottonSockshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12985852348250115996noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164515774162371836.post-63603975543965499222011-10-25T20:50:00.002-05:002011-10-25T22:35:54.934-05:00Deep breaths, deep breaths.<span style="font-style:italic;">Inhale slowly through the nose, exhale slowly through the mouth. Oooooooooooo. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh.</span><br /><br />I've been repeating that a lot the last couple of days.<br /><br />Last night, I woke up and was convinced that there was something in my vagina. It felt a lot like when I would pass a clot, actually. Only, there was no clot. Or anything, though I cried for about twenty minutes. I was finally distracted by horrible, horrible vomiting (to little effect, as I hadn't eaten in hours). I eventually realized that if my water hadn't broken with that vomiting, I was probably fine and tried to ignore the cramping and fell into an uneasy sleep.<br /><br />This morning was better. But I'm scrambling to get everything done at work that needs to be done before the surgery. I feel constantly behind. The sole consolation is that I felt the same last year so maybe there is hope yet.<br /><br />I got a call from the surgical center today, and when I gave them my height/weight suddenly they said I was too heavy to have the cerclage placed there. They said the anesthesiologist was uncomfortable giving me anesthesia because they'd have a harder time intubating me at my size, and I should be in hospital. Given that no intubation is required (the anesthesia is a spinal), I was really confused, and then really upset. The nurse at the peri's office straightened it all out though and we are back on for Thursday morning.<br /><br />I am scheduled for the NT scan tomorrow and getting the first panicky twinges about it. I have no reason to think anything is wrong - baby's hit the milestones and had good heart-tones, movement, etc. Nevertheless - test. Big one. With results coming a week after they stitch me up. Nerve-wracking. Lip biting. Scary. I'm hopeful we see all the markers we are looking for, so I'm reassured. With Gabriel I remember being very concerned about anencephaly, and the presence of a brain was enormously reassuring. Let's keep our fingers crossed that all is equally well with this one.<br /><br />At least I am not worried about it being dead when we arrive tomorrow - we had a great session with the doppler tonight. It's been very hit or miss, and I limit attempts to no more than every other day and usually stop once we get a heartbeat. Tonight though, it was as clear as it's ever been and the parasite (who clearly dislikes the doppler as much as its older brother did) obligingly stayed in relatively the same area, so we got great sounds. Good enough to make us stop and just listen for awhile. There was a flash of excitement and pride, a breakthrough from the usual detachment I have with this pregnancy.<br /><br />Which is not to say that it's gone - far from it. The question of Gabriel's sex was a looming one throughout his pregnancy. Of course, I was convinced he was a girl, and quite afraid of having a boy and what on earth I would do. I was legitimately concerned about gender disappointment, having always wanted a girl first, but it didn't matter in the end. I loved him, and was so excited when it was finally official that he was male. I'm curious this time, but there is nothing like the fervor of last time. No long conversations or guesses or musings. Of course, nearly everyone thinks this parasite is a girl, and I sway back and forth. In many ways that would be easier, and bittersweet in others. But then I doubt that it will be any other way when the constant comparison is to my poor lost little boy. Having a baby - should we be so lucky - won't answer the questions we've always had about what our son would have been like and what raising him would be. If anything, they'll become more defined, more crystallized as we see more clearly what we've missed and the foggy dream images take shape into a living reality.<br /><br />Detachment is the only way for me to cope. Yes, I know if we have another loss I will feel guilty about it. But I have to balance that against surviving each day and the only way for me is for the excitement and hope and joy to be compartmentalized and allowed out only in careful doses. So tonight, it was sweet to listen for a few moments, to send a thought to the baby thanking it for its cooperation, and simply have a normal moment of pregnancy and bonding. <br /><br />A deep breath in the midst of the panic that seems to supersede the majority of the time, if you will.<br /><br />I will post sometime after the cerclage is placed, if things have gone well. If you'd keep your fingers crossed or think good thoughts or whatever you send into the universe on Thursday, we would surely appreciate it.CottonSockshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12985852348250115996noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164515774162371836.post-48373310576608823262011-10-21T19:41:00.002-05:002011-10-21T20:26:17.036-05:00Whoa there, buddy, let's just slow this down a bit here, yeah?OMG, two posts within a week?! Did the Rapture happen after all? No. Just updating.<br /><br />I had another appointment with the regular OB on Monday. To be 100% honest, I was pretty well wrecked going into it. One of the women on the birth month board I've been visiting was a day or two behind me and we both had appointments on Oct 7, both had healthy babies with healthy heart beats, and then suddenly she went back and it was a missed miscarriage. Scared the fuck out of me.<br /><br />And also, Monday was a huge deadline for a funding request and it's the first one I've done for this special funding that makes up, oh, a quarter of that department's budget and after working on it the previous week and then for 8 solid hours on Sunday, I was still not done and a little panicky.<br /><br />So when they called me back and we didn't start with the u/s that I was supposed to be getting, I started getting very anxious. Apparently, my blood pressure was through the roof, despite being perfectly normal at every other appointment. The nurse was concerned, and asked if I was stressed out, to which I responded with a terse YES. She said we could try to find the h/b with the doppler and then she'd take it again. <br /><br />Yeah, she couldn't find the h/b with the doppler. She was definitely not taking the blood pressure again at that point. Now, logically, I know that it was 11 weeks exactly, that it was still early, that it isn't automatically bad news, but I was already so freaked out that there was no way to separate the terror and nod sagely about logic. They wheeled in the old portable u/s machine, which was great, but they insist the doctor do the u/s in case there is bad news. I had to wait, naked from the waist down, staring at the u/s machine (which looked a lot like movie robots from the 80's) for fifteen or twenty minutes, during which I nearly completely lost it and started crying.<br /><br />Dr. B was calm and reassuring as ever, but I was such a wreck that it didn't matter. She slid the probe in and immediately said, "Oh, see, baby's just fine, dancing away, saying nothing to worry about here Mom." and she turned the monitor so I could watch while she quickly checked the cervical length, heartbeat and placenta. Everything looked fine, and I was (and am) relieved that they immediately did the u/s for reassurance, but that's why I am supposed to have an u/s at every visit to begin with, scheduling person who fucked that up.<br /><br />Then I learned that Dr. B doesn't actually do cerclage, so the list of questions I had prepared and the dates/schedule I thought I was getting? Nope - had to call the peri back to get it scheduled, which made me sullen and teenagery inside because I want an adult to arrange things for me, damn it.<br /><br />I am to monitor my blood pressure twice a day (er, not been great about that just yet) and keep a log to take back. So far, it's been low. Go figure. I need to make certain the monitor is calibrated correctly, but it is returning normal figures for DH, so I sort of think it is working ok. I also got referrals to several psychiatrists and need to find one who takes my insurance, because the point at which my blood pressure is rising precipitously like that is the point at which I say I need some fucking anti-anxiety medication, please. Dr. B was quick to get me her referral list, I might add, after I said calmly that I desperately needed help with this. She also gave me a referral to the genetic center she sends patients to for the first tri screen (also known at NT scan), and that is scheduled for next Wednesday morning.<br /><br />I don't see Dr. B again for nearly a month, but that may have to move up, depending on how things with the cerclage and whether or not I will have a follow-up with the peri. <br /><br />Ohbytheyway, that (the cerclage) is currently scheduled for next Thursday. They'd have done it sooner, but I said I wanted the NT scan done first. Um. When the nurse called me back today to tell me it had to be next week, I nearly flipped out. I made sure that they know I'll be 12 weeks and change next week and she very impatiently clucked and said yes, yes, she's aware, next week.<br /><br />I was not prepared for next week. I thought closer to 14 weeks. Certainly sometime after 13 weeks. Like, maybe after the official end of first tri? Also, I wasn't preparing work for next fucking week and OMG, what?<br /><br />So yeah, Thursday, early in the morning. Wow. It's good. Really. Things are going well (provided the NT scan doesn't identify a hideous anomaly, but we don't have much reason to expect that given what we've seen so far), and the sooner the better, especially given the 'short presentation' of my cervix in the vaginal canal. It took me all day to figure out why I was so surprised and why I felt so steam rolled by this all happening so fast (beyond the work implications). I mean, I've known for 2 years that I would likely have a cerclage, and I learned 2 weeks ago that I definitely would. I know it would be placed before 15 weeks. So . . . what is the issue?<br /><br />I finally pinpointed it and explained to Dh on the drive home thusly:<br /><br />"It's like, whoa, there. This is all moving a bit fast, don't you think? It's like we've just met. And we're already getting intimate. But more than that, it's sort of . . . permanent. I mean, obviously not permanent, because it's going to be removed eventually. But it's a pretty big step to take, when I have no idea how this pregnancy is going to go. Which I realize is completely stupid, because the whole point of the cerclage is to help the pregnancy go as far as possible. But it feels like an awfully big commitment, and I don't feel ready to make that commitment. I feel like holding my hands up and telling him to stop thinking about my vagina and maybe back off and see where this thing is going first, you know?"<br /><br />That's right folks. I'm concerned that the thing designed to prolong my pregnancy is being put in too soon because I'm not convinced I'll still be pregnant in a month. That repetitive sound is the sensible portion of me bashing itself against the wall created by the lunatic portion of me to keep the sensible one out.<br /><br />Can't talk about work with a fuckload of profanity and foaming at the mouth, but am reminding myself that I was pretty much at the same place a year ago, and we all (me and the departments) survived, so it'll probably work itself out again this time too.<br /><br />And lastly - in case it's not been made clear - I am half in love with Noel Gallagher, and fully in love with his music. I was crushed when I realized that even though Noel Gallagher's High Flying Birds was released on 10-17 in the UK, that it's not available here until fucking November 8. Because I love The Death of You and Me in a wholly unhealthy way, and because If I Had A Gun has jumped onto my top 10 all time favorites list. Seriously, it's one of the most romantic, haunting songs I've ever heard. I got chills when I first listened to it, and still get chills. If you are big into Jesus you may not like chorus line "you're the only god that I will ever need" but if that won't upset you like it upset my intern at work (who audibly thanked the holy father for protecting her ears when I turned it off; I didn't think it was even loud enough for her to overhear), then dear god go listen to it on youtube. Fucking amazing.CottonSockshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12985852348250115996noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164515774162371836.post-5952563898738468712011-10-15T10:03:00.003-05:002011-10-15T17:19:31.563-05:00Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness DayRemembering all the beautiful babies that have been lost far too soon, and all the grieving parents wishing they could hold them again. I hold you all in my heart and in my thoughts today.<br /><br />This is something I've read and re-read lately, because since I got pregnant again, Gabriel has been more firmly on my mind. Reliving his pregnancy, reliving his birth, trying to remember the beautiful moments and not just the scary ones. Now that more people are learning of my pregnancy, people who don't know about Gabriel or understand the dangerous path I'm walking right now, I find myself reading this again and nodding along.<br /><br />It is of course from my dear Elizabeth McCracken and her memoir <span style="font-style:italic;">An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination</span> and if you have never read it - do. A brilliant writer who carries you into her world of loss and grief in a beautiful, honest, funny way. She captured so brilliantly the things I wanted to explain to other people, and I will never forget buying it about two years ago and opening it while I waited for my to-go order and standing in that line simultaneously laughing and crying out loud because this was a kindred soul.<br /><br />How she speaks of loss and her Pudding here, this is how I feel about Gabriel today:<br /><br />"I want it, too, the impossible lighter-side book. I will always be a woman whose first child died, and I won't give up either that grievance or the bad jokes of everyday life. I will hold on to both forever. I want a book that acknowledges that life goes on but that death goes on, too, that a person who is dead is a long, long story. You move on from it, but the death will never disappear from view. Your friends may say, <span style="font-style:italic;">Time heals all wounds</span>. No, it doesn't, but eventually you'll feel better. You'll be yourself again. Your child will still be dead. The frivolous parts of your personality, stubborner than you'd imagined, will grow up through the cracks in your soul. The sad lady at the Florida library meant: the lighter side is not that your child has died -- no lighter side to that -- but that the child lived and died in this human realm, with its breathtaking sadness and dumb punch lines and hungry seagulls. That was the good news. She wasn't going to pretend that he hadn't, no matter how the mention of him made people shift and look away.<br /><br />A stillborn child is really only ever his death. He didn't live: that's how he's defined. Once he fades from memory, there's little evidence at all, nothing that could turn up, for instance, at a French flea market , or be handed down through family. Eventually we are all only our artifacts. I am writing this before our first child turns into the set of footprints the French midwives made for us at the hospital . . .<br /><br />. . . I don't want those footprints framed on the wall, but I don't want to hide them beneath the false bottom of a trunk. I don't want to wear my heart on my sleeve or put it away in cold storage. I don't want to fetishize, I don't want to repress, I want his death to be what it is: a fact. Something that people know without me having to explain it. I don't feel the need to tell my story to everyone, but when people ask, <span style="font-style:italic;">Is this your first child?</span> I can't bear any of the possible answers.<br /><br />I am am not ready for my first child to fade into history."<br /><br />Love to all of you mothers and all of your children, present with you or not.CottonSockshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12985852348250115996noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164515774162371836.post-70879371086150444052011-10-09T10:16:00.002-05:002011-10-09T10:56:09.393-05:00Back with another updateThe short version so you can skip the rest of the shit if you like:<br /><br />Still pregnant with a viable fetus. Saw the perinatologist Dr. K on Friday and my little parasite (the most affectionate name we've come up with) was measuring ahead a bit with a good steady heartrate and good placement. My cervix measured 3 cm, but on manual exam showed a 'short presentation' - based on this and on my history, Dr. K has agreed completely with Dr. B's assessment and I will have a cerclage placed in 3-4 weeks and start 17p shots weekly at 16w. He said that of course there are no guarantees, which I know, but that he felt pleased and thinks I have a good shot at this.<br /><br />And now the rest of the crap:<br /><br />I honestly meant to write more between visits. But I found that every time I opened it up and stared at the blank white box, the fear would rise up again and I quietly closed it and went on my way. Or I'd come here and pour out a very long piece which was either a long rant about work and how buried and unhappy I am (which, once redacted to remove identifying details is confused in the extreme) or a long rambling on how convinced I am that the pregnancy is over or will be soon and god, I am tired of thinking it, how boring to read such things over and over and over.<br /><br />In truth, I'm coping. Probably not very well, and dear lord do I stare longingly at that gorgeous unopened bottle of Mt. Gay Eclipse, but for the most part (long panicky and repetitive emails and chats with my dear T aside, who patiently listens and soothes though she's probably ready to do herself in to get it to stop already), I plod through each day.<br /><br />Now that I'm nearly 10 weeks (and oh, yes, after measuring ahead, I went back and changed all my tickers back to where they were before the last u/s because I like Monday ticker-change better than Wednesday, because it's two days ahead my precious), and we've seen a good heartbeat, the risks have dropped to under 3%. We've also heard the heartbeat on the home doppler, which may drop us down to 2%. Not that I'm holding my breath over statistics - they've never been kind in the past. It's more like, ok. Maybe the tension can unwind a click now.<br /><br />The hardest part was the in-between of the u/s. Just around 7 weeks and not another until 9.5, because of scheduling (and yes, I know how 'lucky' I am to get all this monitoring, I've been told on my birth month board, to which I snapped back that I'd much rather have a healthy normal pregnancy and forgo all the extra u/s ...). That particular time was difficult because it was too early to use the doppler (who am I kidding, we started trying at the end of 8 weeks/beginning of 9), far too early to feel movement, my uterus is still pretty far down in my pelvis (I can find it easily now though!) and the prime time for missed miscarriages. Symptoms are changing as well, as we approach the end of first tri, as the placenta moves towards taking over hormone production, etc. <br /><br />I went from constant boob soreness to mild achiness in the evening. I went from all-day nausea and food aversions to hunger, interest in certain foods (I can eat tomatoes! and onions! and pickles!), and only some really bad near-vomiting after eating and in the evenings. Fatigue - well, hell, I'm so stressed out that ones particularly hard, and frequent urination? I have been drinking water like I'm a camel embarking on a desert journey, so who can say? Take all of that, through in paranoia, and some cramping, and a massive dose of stressed-out crazy and you get, well, me. It was difficult to function. All my free thoughts pulled together to say AFRAID AFRAID AFRAID AFRAID. I had horrible nightmares about the pregnancy ending in gruesome ways, about my family members dying or murdering others, and finally the past week saw me awake every night between 3 and 4, and be unable to return to sleep because of the things running through my head. <br /><br />And let's not forget that work is a godawful disaster right now that brings its own high stress levels. I can't even get into all of it, but there is no sense that things are getting better or that that will ever get better (though that is a bit dramatic, really). No light at the end of that tunnel, really. I told a couple of people that I thought I would be coping better overall if I only had work to deal with or if I only had the pregnancy to deal with. The combination, instead of distracting me from the pregnancy or increasing my focus at work, has left me one big mess of a person who feels like she is failing at every thing she touches.<br /><br />The anxiety levels are through the roof, in other words.<br /><br />Things will get easier though. I hope. At least now, we're into fetus-hood. We're into the point where the doppler is working (and oh, obliging baby, how grateful I am that you are so kind - placed right at the top of the uterus, my parasite moves right near the probe and obligingly swims back and forth at that spot - no real searching or following, not like with Gabe. The technobeat freight train fades in and out and we let out a breath we'd been holding and there it is). We have a plan in place for my treatment. The pregnancy has been so different from Gabriel's - no bleeding, no worries, no scares except in my head. The baby will get bigger, the heartbeat easier to hear and measure. The trimester will end, and a cerclage will be placed. The monitoring every other week will continue, movement will start. As each of these things happens, another click of unwinding, of ability to move or to breathe. Not relax - ever relax? I doubt it. But easier, I hope.<br /><br />I am able to do a little more - my family has been told now. I think we'd have liked to wait to make any announcements until after the cerclage (that certainly is the general plan for the rest of work or Jason's family, make sure that goes without disaster), but alas, my brother's wedding the week after placement makes it difficult, as everyone else is going and we are not. Everyone seems excited and hopeful though and my brother was really nice about the announcement. I bought canvas to make letters for the name for this one - Oliver or Vivienne (I'm starting with Vivienne, as nearly everyone believes it to be a girl). Cream letters, with sage green trim for Oliver or mauve trim for Vivienne. The colors were so clear. I didn't shake like a leaf this time. I had a few moments of doubt, but not the paralyzing fear of even a week before.<br /><br />This is as positive as I can be, I fear. I feel an uncomfortable duty to pretend to happiness and delight, to be grateful for the symptoms that were dragging me down, and I can't do it. I feel terribly for those who would love to be in my position, but I can't manufacture emotion. Abstractly, I am happy, and hopeful. Emotionally, I am numb and want it to stay that way. The fear is hard enough when I am numb. Attached and hopeful and stupid? I don't think I could get out of bed again. So we go about every day, breathing in and out, trying to do one day at a time. Some days it works better than others. That, really, is the essence of life, I guess.<br /><br />Oh, and as an odd post-script? At nearly 10 weeks pregnant, for a lark, I took one of the internet cheapie tests that are still laying around here (can't pass them off on anyone, not just quite yet, not really) - these tests that were the bane of my ttc existence with their faint lines and squinting, that gave me the first unbelievable positive at 9 dpo? 10 weeks pregnant, and the test line is still not darker than the control line. Wow.CottonSockshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12985852348250115996noreply@blogger.com6