Today is 21 weeks and 3 days gestation.
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.
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.
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.
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.
I have more to add on so many things, but this headache is getting worse. Ugh. I'm so pissed off about being sick!
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Monday, December 19, 2011
Twenty Weeks
That is today.
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.
Many people think of this as the half-way point in pregnancy, and celebrate being half-baked.
I look at this and realize it's the week I've been dreading all along.
Hand me a paper bag?
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.
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.
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?
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.
I have never wanted so much for a week to be over.
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?
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.
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.
But to get there, we have to first get through here, through this week.
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.
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.
Many people think of this as the half-way point in pregnancy, and celebrate being half-baked.
I look at this and realize it's the week I've been dreading all along.
Hand me a paper bag?
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.
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.
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?
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.
I have never wanted so much for a week to be over.
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?
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.
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.
But to get there, we have to first get through here, through this week.
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.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
And 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.
The answer was consistently yes, and no.
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.
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.
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?
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.
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.
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.
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.
The answer was consistently yes, and no.
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.
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.
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?
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.
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.
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.
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.
Monday, November 28, 2011
Oh, 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?
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?
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)
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.
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.
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.
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.
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. . .
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.
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.
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.
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.
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?
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)
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.
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.
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.
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.
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. . .
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.
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.
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.
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.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Sewn up like the Bayeux Tapestry, to quote my friend T
NT Scan yesterday:
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.).
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.
Cerclage:
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.
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.
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?
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).
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
*heffalump came after the NT scan when one of said jokingly, 'we've got a heffalump that jumps in there.' it's been sticking.
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.).
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.
Cerclage:
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.
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.
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?
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).
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
*heffalump came after the NT scan when one of said jokingly, 'we've got a heffalump that jumps in there.' it's been sticking.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Deep breaths, deep breaths.
Inhale slowly through the nose, exhale slowly through the mouth. Oooooooooooo. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh.
I've been repeating that a lot the last couple of days.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
A deep breath in the midst of the panic that seems to supersede the majority of the time, if you will.
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.
I've been repeating that a lot the last couple of days.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
A deep breath in the midst of the panic that seems to supersede the majority of the time, if you will.
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.
Friday, October 21, 2011
Whoa 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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?
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?
I finally pinpointed it and explained to Dh on the drive home thusly:
"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?"
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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?
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?
I finally pinpointed it and explained to Dh on the drive home thusly:
"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?"
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.
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.
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.
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