2010- The world stops. She can hear her husband sobbing inconsolably. He is
screaming, "No, no. Do something. Can't you save him?" She can hear his
wails but is completely numb. She feels nothing.
Flash
2014- I am driving to my 36 (almost) week scan. Frostina is with a sitter and The Hubby is out of town. I am blasting the radio and singing along.
Flash
2010- She and her husband are sitting in the room waiting for the doctor to come in and do her ultrasound. While they are grateful that they have a doctor to do all their scans, it's annoying when he runs late as he is prone to do. They have already waited over 30 minutes just to get in the room and now they are waiting again. She is annoyed because she worries that the smoothie she drank to wake the baby up will "wear off" before the scan finally starts.
Flash
2014- It's my 36 week scan. A huge milestone for me. In my first pregnancy it's where things all fell apart. A fact that I am doing my best to repress. After all, I decided to try and focus on the good things and not the fear this time around. I turn the radio up and sing a little louder.
Flash
2010- She is 36 weeks pregnant with her miracle baby. There were lots of worries along the way but once they got the good results at their 20 week scan she has been anxiously awaiting the arrival of their much wanted baby boy. They are all clear.
The day is hectic. Her Hubby has invited a group of his employees over for dinner because they are all in town for a meeting. He has escaped this meeting for the scan but has to rush back once it's over. The plan is to have the scan; meet with her OB to discuss the results; and then he goes back to work and she goes home to finish cooking the chili and tidying up the house before everyone arrives. So this delay for the scan is quite annoying.
Finally he goes out to see what the delay is. After all, they both have a very busy day and they have waited long enough. The doctor comes in a few minutes later full of apologies and excuses for his tardiness. He readies the machine and begins the scan.
The two of them look to the screen to see their little boy.
He begins to focus on the head and starts to take measurements, just like normal. But then there is a hesitation. She notices but brushes it off. He backs up the scan and starts again. This time looking at the head from a different angle, and then another. Then he quickly switches views to one she isn't familiar with. His tone changes and he starts asking her questions.
Flash
2014- She knows what's coming next. This memory has been creeping up on her for weeks. You can repress these things but somehow they have a way of catching up to you. She can feel the tears well up in her eyes as she drives down the Florida Turnpike.
Flash
2010- When was the last time you felt the baby move? The answer was an hour ago, just after the smoothie. She finds out later that this couldn't possibly be true. He goes on to ask if there has been a decrease in movement lately. The answer was, "Of course because we all know they run out of room at the end."
Flash
2014- The tears are now flowing. Turning up the radio and singing loudly doesn't deter them.
Flash
2010- She can't figure out why he is asking these questions while flicking the ultrasound machine from one body part to another. He wants to know exactly when she noticed a decrease in movement. He asks several ways before she finally becomes alarmed. "Why do you want to know this?" she finally asks.
Silence.
Flash
2014- Stop thinking about this. Think about something else.
Flash
2010- "Why do you want to know this?" she asks. It's at this point that she feels her hubby gripping her hand very tightly... though she takes no notice.
Pause
"Why are you asking me this?" she asks again. This time she is starting to sense that all is not well.
"I'm so sorry, there's no heartbeat."
Flash
2014- Seriously, why are you going there? You need to stop. You are driving. You promised yourself that you wouldn't do this to yourself this pregnancy. Things are going so much better this time. You have a diagnosis, you have medication, and this baby is doing much better than your son or Frostina. You need to snap out of it. NOW!
Flash
2010- The world stops. She can hear her husband sobbing inconsolably. He is screaming, "No, no. Do something. Can't you save him?" She can hear his wails but is completely numb. She feels nothing.
It's pandemonium at this point. The girl assisting the scan leaves the room. Shortly after that, their OB enters the room to confirm the devastating news. There are no signs of life, their baby is dead. Based on what they can see, he has been gone for at least a week.
Flash
2014- To this day I still can't belive I didn't know. I still can't believe that I thought I could feel him moving... even after I knew he was gone.
It's raining outside now, a reflection of my inner mood. But again it's time to snap out of it. I promised myself I would.
Flash
2010- Phone calls have to be made. She calls her parents in California and wakes them up. She has lost track of time and has no idea what time it is for them. Her Hubby has to call his employees to tell them he won't be back for the rest of the day, and that the BBQ and chili dinner are off. They want to know why and of course he has to tell them.
More sobs and wails from her Husband, but she is still completely numb. The truth won't hit her for hours, but when it does it will feel like a building falling on her.
Flash
2014- Ok, enough already. I'm serious... it's time to snap out of it. You have to drive in the rain and you don't want to get into an accident now do you?
So I wipe my tears and pull myself together. It's been a very long time since I've had any flashbacks and I can't say I miss them.
This whole episode happened to me last week and it's taken this long for me to be able to write about it. I swear, just about the time I think I've got my grief under control it comes back to let me know I don't. I read a post earlier this week that Brooke wrote about grief coming to visit when you least expect it. Well I'm here to testify that grief is truly it's own entity and it comes to visit on it's schedule, not yours. No matter how hard you try to avoid it, it's always just around the corner.
Dealing with the loss of a child is never easy, but it's even more difficult when you are an expat living far from home. Life will never be "normal" again and so now the challenge is to find my new normal. I am now back in the USA and the proud parent of two daughters, born using two different egg donors. "Frostina" and "Olea" are the loves of my life and I feel so grateful for the amazing women who donated their eggs and made my family possible.
Showing posts with label anxiety. Show all posts
Showing posts with label anxiety. Show all posts
Wednesday, 2 July 2014
Wednesday, 25 September 2013
IVF- More Than Just An Injection Schedule
I'm not feeling very eloquent these days but I want to do more in this space than just list the stats and dates for this donor egg IVF cycle. There are a million places where you can read about all that and since I'm not a medical expert but a blogger, I realise that what I want to do here is talk about the journey.
It's easy to get caught up in the dates and the schedule and all the acronyms. You have to keep track of when to start each medicine and when to stop. Injections are carefully timed within a few hours of each other each day. In my case I even have to figure in time differences so that when I travel abroad I don't end up having to get up in the middle of the night to do them. It would also be nice if I could figure out a way to not have to do them on the airplane,,, but I fear that may be unavoidable.
Maybe I've been focusing on the dates and stats and appointment dates because it's easier than letting myself focus on my feelings. After all, it's a pretty scary thing to jump back on the IVF bandwagon. The hormones make what is already an emotional time a super-duper emotional time. Super-duper isn't really the right word of course but this early in the morning it's all I can come up with.
Ultimately, all the planning and injections and appointments have an end goal. This isn't just an exercise in timekeeping. It's all about the result. Will all this effort result in a pregnancy? Will a pregnancy result in a healthy baby?
If I'm not pregnant then I have to do it all over again. If I'm not pregnant, do I have the strength to do it all over again? I try not to focus on this part because I have to get through this cycle first. But at times it's hard not to get ahead of myself.
This time around I don't have nearly as much time to sit around dwelling on my feelings. I've got Frostina to look after. Frostina, my beautiful rainbow baby. She's my inspiration here. A reminder that if you don't take chances you don't get rewards. She is proof that all this can be worth it.
Frostina is almost 16 months old now and boy does she keep me busy. I hope that being busy with her will help keep me from obsessing. Not completely, but just enough so that I'm not the complete neurotic mess I was the last time. Or maybe I still will be a neurotic mess, just one with less time to be that way.
I start my Lupron injections tomorrow. Just in case you were wondering about my injection schedule. :)
It's easy to get caught up in the dates and the schedule and all the acronyms. You have to keep track of when to start each medicine and when to stop. Injections are carefully timed within a few hours of each other each day. In my case I even have to figure in time differences so that when I travel abroad I don't end up having to get up in the middle of the night to do them. It would also be nice if I could figure out a way to not have to do them on the airplane,,, but I fear that may be unavoidable.
Maybe I've been focusing on the dates and stats and appointment dates because it's easier than letting myself focus on my feelings. After all, it's a pretty scary thing to jump back on the IVF bandwagon. The hormones make what is already an emotional time a super-duper emotional time. Super-duper isn't really the right word of course but this early in the morning it's all I can come up with.
Ultimately, all the planning and injections and appointments have an end goal. This isn't just an exercise in timekeeping. It's all about the result. Will all this effort result in a pregnancy? Will a pregnancy result in a healthy baby?
If I'm not pregnant then I have to do it all over again. If I'm not pregnant, do I have the strength to do it all over again? I try not to focus on this part because I have to get through this cycle first. But at times it's hard not to get ahead of myself.
This time around I don't have nearly as much time to sit around dwelling on my feelings. I've got Frostina to look after. Frostina, my beautiful rainbow baby. She's my inspiration here. A reminder that if you don't take chances you don't get rewards. She is proof that all this can be worth it.
Frostina is almost 16 months old now and boy does she keep me busy. I hope that being busy with her will help keep me from obsessing. Not completely, but just enough so that I'm not the complete neurotic mess I was the last time. Or maybe I still will be a neurotic mess, just one with less time to be that way.
I start my Lupron injections tomorrow. Just in case you were wondering about my injection schedule. :)
Tuesday, 21 August 2012
It Could Have Happened Again
As I was writing about my struggles with anxiety and moodiness since Frostina was born I mentioned something in passing that I realized I haven't shared here on the blog. I don't know why I haven't talked about this before. It's actually a huge revelation and something that will affect any future pregnancies I may have. I'm going to blame baby brain and sleep deprivation because it's the only thing I can think of as to why this wasn't something I shared right away.
After Frostina was born, my doctor made the statement, "Well it's a good thing she was born today." When I asked why he explained that based on the very low fluid levels and the fact that my placenta looked quite degraded, it looked to him like the same thing that happened during my first pregnancy with my son had happened again. He also said that the cord was wrapped around her neck twice so it's a good thing we had planned for a C-section.
As you can imagine, this news came as quite a shock to me. Keeping in mind that I was laying in the recovery room with my much wanted rainbow baby in my arms when I received this news, I didn't ask too many questions. This bombshell of information was a bit lost in my new baby euphoria mixed with what I'm assuming was some pretty good pain meds. So I did little but acknowledge the information and then go back to staring at the beautiful baby girl who was laying on my chest.
When my doctor came to see me the next day I had many more questions. We talked in length about it then and also at my 6 week follow up appointment. Basically it turns out that the "infection or virus of unknown origin" that the pathologist thought was the cause of my immune system attacking the placenta was in fact not a virus or infection at all.
It was my own immune system rejecting the pregnancy like a person might reject an organ that is donated.
For whatever reason, the pregnancy triggered an autoimmune response that resulted in my son's tragic death. Apparently this kind of reaction is the strongest the first time you are pregnant and he suspects that the trouble started around 31 weeks or so (based on his review of my scans). Each subsequent pregnancy will still trigger a reaction, but each time it will be less aggressive and happen later.
With Frostina all was looking completely normal at my 36 week scan. We had already planned the C-section for 37 weeks which was on a Friday. I went in on the Wednesday before (1 week after a perfectly normal scan) for some last minute checks and to sign all the consent forms. At that appointment we did a mini-scan with his small laptop and I remember him mentioning that fluid levels were a bit low but not to worry because we were already scheduled for delivery in 2 days. So I didnt' worry.
Well as it turns out, the fluid levels were even lower by Friday. This is why my doctor said that it's a good thing she was born when she was. As it turns out, she didn't grow at all that last week. She was born at 5 pounds and 6 ounces which is smaller than he was expecting. But at 37 weeks she was full term and as we all know, things turned out fine. But it's so scary to think that if I didn't have such a good doctor and receive such vigilant care, things may have turned out much differently.
If I'd had a doctor who wasn't willing to scan me as often. If I'd had a doctor who didn't agree to schedule a C-section at 37 weeks exactly. If I'd had a doctor who wanted me to go full term, or try for a VBAC, or wasn't as educated in high risk pregnancies..... I shudder to think about that.
It could have happened again,,,,,,,
I'm so grateful that it didn't. I am truly grateful for the amazing medical care I received this pregnancy. And I'd also like to think that our angel in heaven did his bit to make sure his little sister was born safe and sound.
After Frostina was born, my doctor made the statement, "Well it's a good thing she was born today." When I asked why he explained that based on the very low fluid levels and the fact that my placenta looked quite degraded, it looked to him like the same thing that happened during my first pregnancy with my son had happened again. He also said that the cord was wrapped around her neck twice so it's a good thing we had planned for a C-section.
As you can imagine, this news came as quite a shock to me. Keeping in mind that I was laying in the recovery room with my much wanted rainbow baby in my arms when I received this news, I didn't ask too many questions. This bombshell of information was a bit lost in my new baby euphoria mixed with what I'm assuming was some pretty good pain meds. So I did little but acknowledge the information and then go back to staring at the beautiful baby girl who was laying on my chest.
When my doctor came to see me the next day I had many more questions. We talked in length about it then and also at my 6 week follow up appointment. Basically it turns out that the "infection or virus of unknown origin" that the pathologist thought was the cause of my immune system attacking the placenta was in fact not a virus or infection at all.
It was my own immune system rejecting the pregnancy like a person might reject an organ that is donated.
For whatever reason, the pregnancy triggered an autoimmune response that resulted in my son's tragic death. Apparently this kind of reaction is the strongest the first time you are pregnant and he suspects that the trouble started around 31 weeks or so (based on his review of my scans). Each subsequent pregnancy will still trigger a reaction, but each time it will be less aggressive and happen later.
With Frostina all was looking completely normal at my 36 week scan. We had already planned the C-section for 37 weeks which was on a Friday. I went in on the Wednesday before (1 week after a perfectly normal scan) for some last minute checks and to sign all the consent forms. At that appointment we did a mini-scan with his small laptop and I remember him mentioning that fluid levels were a bit low but not to worry because we were already scheduled for delivery in 2 days. So I didnt' worry.
Well as it turns out, the fluid levels were even lower by Friday. This is why my doctor said that it's a good thing she was born when she was. As it turns out, she didn't grow at all that last week. She was born at 5 pounds and 6 ounces which is smaller than he was expecting. But at 37 weeks she was full term and as we all know, things turned out fine. But it's so scary to think that if I didn't have such a good doctor and receive such vigilant care, things may have turned out much differently.
If I'd had a doctor who wasn't willing to scan me as often. If I'd had a doctor who didn't agree to schedule a C-section at 37 weeks exactly. If I'd had a doctor who wanted me to go full term, or try for a VBAC, or wasn't as educated in high risk pregnancies..... I shudder to think about that.
It could have happened again,,,,,,,
I'm so grateful that it didn't. I am truly grateful for the amazing medical care I received this pregnancy. And I'd also like to think that our angel in heaven did his bit to make sure his little sister was born safe and sound.
Monday, 6 August 2012
Someone With "My History"
I'm still waiting for answers as to what's going on with my moodiness. I did ask my doctor at my 6 week check up but he was very dismissive. He told me that if I was clinically depressed then I'd be frozen and wouldn't be able to even hold or feed my baby. He said that the mood swings I'm experiencing are completely normal for someone with "my history."
My History: Years of infertility... Finally getting pregnant... A full term stillbirth... Another pregnancy filled with fear and anxiety... The birth of my rainbow baby.
Apparently someone with my history should expect to feel like an emotional wreck? I'm not so sure all of this is normal. My doctor is an amazing doctor and I truly believe that without his vigilance and expertise this pregnancy would likely have ended like my first one. **I have good reason to think this. Have I written about that yet??? I don't think I have but I will soon.
Anyway, while his expertise in all things high risk pregnancy and placentas is amazing, I don't think that emotional issues are his strong suit. So I have a call into a therapist who specializes in pregnancy related issues. I am hoping that a sit down with her will help give me the answers I need.
Maybe the way I'm feeling is totally normal for someone with my history? Maybe it's not? Maybe I just need someone to talk to about it, especially as the two year anniversary of my son's birth creeps up on me?
I'm just wanting some answers so I can figure the best way to snap out of this. Because I really want to be able to enjoy Frostina and be the Mother she deserves without all the self doubt and anxiety.
My History: Years of infertility... Finally getting pregnant... A full term stillbirth... Another pregnancy filled with fear and anxiety... The birth of my rainbow baby.
Apparently someone with my history should expect to feel like an emotional wreck? I'm not so sure all of this is normal. My doctor is an amazing doctor and I truly believe that without his vigilance and expertise this pregnancy would likely have ended like my first one. **I have good reason to think this. Have I written about that yet??? I don't think I have but I will soon.
Anyway, while his expertise in all things high risk pregnancy and placentas is amazing, I don't think that emotional issues are his strong suit. So I have a call into a therapist who specializes in pregnancy related issues. I am hoping that a sit down with her will help give me the answers I need.
Maybe the way I'm feeling is totally normal for someone with my history? Maybe it's not? Maybe I just need someone to talk to about it, especially as the two year anniversary of my son's birth creeps up on me?
I'm just wanting some answers so I can figure the best way to snap out of this. Because I really want to be able to enjoy Frostina and be the Mother she deserves without all the self doubt and anxiety.
Monday, 30 July 2012
Fighting Sleep & Asking For Help
Lately Frostina has been fighting sleep. She's clearly tired and will fall asleep if someone is holding her. But the moment we set her down she's up again. Up and fussy. It can take some time to calm her down again and then she will sleep for a bit and then it all starts over. Lots and lots of crying. Lots and lots of time with a fussy, unhappy baby. A fussy tired baby who just won't go to sleep.
Just keep holding her? Well that would be fine if we didn't have to eat or sleep or pee, but it's not always possible to do that. Plus sometimes she will wake herself back up even when we do hold her. Everyone says that this is normal behaviour for a 7 week old baby. Everyone says it gets better. I want to believe everyone when they tell me this, but for now I'm pulling my hair out.
I have tried medicine for gas/wind which did nothing so I'm trying something new. My new strategy is two fold. First, I switched to these new bottles which are supposed to help them swallow less air, this resulting in less wind. These Dr Brown bottles promise miracles, I'll wait and see how they work.
In addition to the new bottles, I've started with a bedtime routine. We have a bath followed by a massage. Then we eat and get swaddled and put into bed. The first night this bath time routine worked like a charm. The second two nights,,, not so much. She went to bed each time looking sleepy, calm, and peaceful. This peace lasted about 10 minutes before she was back up and screaming again. But I will persevere because I'm hoping that with repetition she will figure out that bath + food = sleep.
She is the light of my life and the joy in my heart, but at this moment she is one fussy baby. I am at my wits end. I just want to make her happy. I just want her to be content and not cry all the time when she's awake. I want her to sleep well so that when she does have awake time it can be happy and fun. It may or may not be related to the colic. She may or may not actually have colic. She may just be going through a fussy phase.
Either way it's distressing and frustrating. Last night I had another meltdown about it all. When she's unhappy like this I feel overwhelmed and unable to cope. I feel like I'm not a good mother to be feeling overwhelmed and unable to cope. Then the guilt starts again because after all, she's alive. Alive and well and living at home with us. I can hold her in my arms and not just in my heart. And yet I find myself wanting to escape from the crying. To let The Hubby handle it while I curl up and cry.
I've got my 6 week post c-section appointment today. It's a bit late because my doctor has been away. I think I need to ask him about all the stress and anxiety I'm feeling. I think perhaps it's more than just having colic. I think maybe I may be dealing with some post partum depression. It's a scary thought because I've always seen myself as a stable, have my stuff together kind of person.
Accepting that I may be suffering from some kind of depression is difficult for me. Maybe this is normal? Maybe every new mother feels like this? At this point I have no idea. All I know is that The Hubby is worried about me, and I'm worried about me too. So I owe it to myself, The Hubby, and most importantly,,, to Frostina to figure it out. And to get help if that's what I need.
Just keep holding her? Well that would be fine if we didn't have to eat or sleep or pee, but it's not always possible to do that. Plus sometimes she will wake herself back up even when we do hold her. Everyone says that this is normal behaviour for a 7 week old baby. Everyone says it gets better. I want to believe everyone when they tell me this, but for now I'm pulling my hair out.
I have tried medicine for gas/wind which did nothing so I'm trying something new. My new strategy is two fold. First, I switched to these new bottles which are supposed to help them swallow less air, this resulting in less wind. These Dr Brown bottles promise miracles, I'll wait and see how they work.
In addition to the new bottles, I've started with a bedtime routine. We have a bath followed by a massage. Then we eat and get swaddled and put into bed. The first night this bath time routine worked like a charm. The second two nights,,, not so much. She went to bed each time looking sleepy, calm, and peaceful. This peace lasted about 10 minutes before she was back up and screaming again. But I will persevere because I'm hoping that with repetition she will figure out that bath + food = sleep.
She is the light of my life and the joy in my heart, but at this moment she is one fussy baby. I am at my wits end. I just want to make her happy. I just want her to be content and not cry all the time when she's awake. I want her to sleep well so that when she does have awake time it can be happy and fun. It may or may not be related to the colic. She may or may not actually have colic. She may just be going through a fussy phase.
Either way it's distressing and frustrating. Last night I had another meltdown about it all. When she's unhappy like this I feel overwhelmed and unable to cope. I feel like I'm not a good mother to be feeling overwhelmed and unable to cope. Then the guilt starts again because after all, she's alive. Alive and well and living at home with us. I can hold her in my arms and not just in my heart. And yet I find myself wanting to escape from the crying. To let The Hubby handle it while I curl up and cry.
I've got my 6 week post c-section appointment today. It's a bit late because my doctor has been away. I think I need to ask him about all the stress and anxiety I'm feeling. I think perhaps it's more than just having colic. I think maybe I may be dealing with some post partum depression. It's a scary thought because I've always seen myself as a stable, have my stuff together kind of person.
Accepting that I may be suffering from some kind of depression is difficult for me. Maybe this is normal? Maybe every new mother feels like this? At this point I have no idea. All I know is that The Hubby is worried about me, and I'm worried about me too. So I owe it to myself, The Hubby, and most importantly,,, to Frostina to figure it out. And to get help if that's what I need.
Monday, 4 June 2012
Countdown to baby... 4 days
That's right, 4 days until we're set to meet Frostina. We have been living in countdown mode for the past week and are pretty much driving ourselves crazy. I haven't wanted to post about this any earlier because it still feels like we're tempting fate. That somehow by writing it down we might become just a bit too smug, a bit too sure of our happy ending.
Now for most people, being smug and sure of your happy ending is just fine. That's because most people get their happy endings. They manage to go through life on the right side of the odds, skirting tragedy at every turn. They can complain about their pregnancies and say things like, "I'm so done with this pregnancy," and, "I can't wait to get this baby out of me," without fear or worry that anything real will go wrong. They can interview and hire their night nanny before their 20 week anomaly scan and consider themselves good planners and well prepared.
I am not most people though. I am the kind of person that bad things happen to. I am the 1 in 1000. I am that total fluke. I am the person that doctors say things like, "It's very rare, but it does happen," to. I am the person who really should buy lottery tickets because I seem to beat all the odds.
So even though I know that it is highly likely that Frostina will be born healthy and alive, I still cannot seem to wrap my mind around it all. Even though she kicks all the time and all her scans have been glowing, I still cannot allow myself to fully embrace the idea that we will be taking her home with us. I cannot allow myself to believe it fully, not just yet.
Which should make for an interesting first few weeks at home since we are completely unprepared for an actual baby!
I think the word to describe how I am feeling today is disbelief.
4 days to go.
Now for most people, being smug and sure of your happy ending is just fine. That's because most people get their happy endings. They manage to go through life on the right side of the odds, skirting tragedy at every turn. They can complain about their pregnancies and say things like, "I'm so done with this pregnancy," and, "I can't wait to get this baby out of me," without fear or worry that anything real will go wrong. They can interview and hire their night nanny before their 20 week anomaly scan and consider themselves good planners and well prepared.
I am not most people though. I am the kind of person that bad things happen to. I am the 1 in 1000. I am that total fluke. I am the person that doctors say things like, "It's very rare, but it does happen," to. I am the person who really should buy lottery tickets because I seem to beat all the odds.
So even though I know that it is highly likely that Frostina will be born healthy and alive, I still cannot seem to wrap my mind around it all. Even though she kicks all the time and all her scans have been glowing, I still cannot allow myself to fully embrace the idea that we will be taking her home with us. I cannot allow myself to believe it fully, not just yet.
Which should make for an interesting first few weeks at home since we are completely unprepared for an actual baby!
I think the word to describe how I am feeling today is disbelief.
4 days to go.
Tuesday, 22 May 2012
Lather, Rinse, Repeat
Anxiety
Panic
Hope
Happiness
Anxiety
Panic
Hope
Happiness
Lather, rinse, repeat
This my friends is my life these days. A constant swinging of emotions. I go from hopeful to anxious and back again. I haven't figured out how to balance it all just yet. We are so close to meeting our little lady, and yet so far away. I'm being seen weekly by the doctor now which is helpful and reassuring. But the days in between visits are a form of torture. Is she OK? Will she live? Will the next Dr visit bring bad news? Where is that fast forward button?
Anxiety
I'm 34 weeks pregnant. 34 weeks is the last time I know for sure that my son was still alive. He died sometime between 34 and 36 weeks. He died at this exact stage of pregnancy.
Panic
How on earth am I going to be able to make it through this exact stage of pregnancy again without completely losing my sanity? What if it happens again? How will I cope? How will The Hubby cope?
Hope
Everything is different this time. She is much bigger; much more active; and according to the doctor, thriving in a way he never did. She is doing well. She is going to be born healthy and alive.
Happiness
When she's moving around I feel love and joy and happiness. When she's not I feel panic.
I know babies don't move around 24 hours a day. I know they do actually sleep. I know she's much more active than he ever was. But my heart is unable to hear reason. It loves so hard and it doesn't know how to overcome the fear. So it panics. Even when my brain tells it it's being silly. It doesn't listen. The heart feels what it feels. Then I feel her moving again and all is right with the world.
Anxiety
Panic
Hope
Happiness
Lather, rinse, repeat
Panic
Hope
Happiness
Anxiety
Panic
Hope
Happiness
Lather, rinse, repeat
This my friends is my life these days. A constant swinging of emotions. I go from hopeful to anxious and back again. I haven't figured out how to balance it all just yet. We are so close to meeting our little lady, and yet so far away. I'm being seen weekly by the doctor now which is helpful and reassuring. But the days in between visits are a form of torture. Is she OK? Will she live? Will the next Dr visit bring bad news? Where is that fast forward button?
Anxiety
I'm 34 weeks pregnant. 34 weeks is the last time I know for sure that my son was still alive. He died sometime between 34 and 36 weeks. He died at this exact stage of pregnancy.
Panic
How on earth am I going to be able to make it through this exact stage of pregnancy again without completely losing my sanity? What if it happens again? How will I cope? How will The Hubby cope?
Hope
Everything is different this time. She is much bigger; much more active; and according to the doctor, thriving in a way he never did. She is doing well. She is going to be born healthy and alive.
Happiness
When she's moving around I feel love and joy and happiness. When she's not I feel panic.
I know babies don't move around 24 hours a day. I know they do actually sleep. I know she's much more active than he ever was. But my heart is unable to hear reason. It loves so hard and it doesn't know how to overcome the fear. So it panics. Even when my brain tells it it's being silly. It doesn't listen. The heart feels what it feels. Then I feel her moving again and all is right with the world.
Anxiety
Panic
Hope
Happiness
Lather, rinse, repeat
Thursday, 17 May 2012
So Close,,,,
I had another scan this week and all is going well with Frostina. I've been so worried about her lately so this was a huge relief. I'm finding these last few weeks very difficult. She is still in a funny position, transverse and breech. This means her head is above my left hip bone and her feet are near her head. One in front of her face and one behind it. My doctor isn't sure how she managed that, he called her an acrobat.
He did the measurements and said she is growing well. She's estimated to be over 5 pounds at this point which is up a over a pound from two weeks ago. I've gained 3 pounds since 2 weeks ago so it's nice to see that at least one of those went to her. She still has a fat belly which I love. He spent some time checking out her internal organs and I got to watch her doing some practice breathing. Not that I could really tell what I was looking at, but I took his word for it.
He also mentioned that she has a full head of hair. I found this fact interesting since my son was born completely bald. When I called to tell The Hubby he laughed. He said, "She's got a fat belly and lots of hair,,, she must get that from me." I got a good laugh out of that one too.
We're so close and yet so far away. I just don't want a repeat of last time, when everything was taken from us at 36 weeks.
Kind of like that Charlie Brown cartoon where he runs to kick the football and Lucy takes it away at the last minute and he ends kicking the air and falling on his back. I feel like that. Like I'm getting ready to run at the football again for a kick and hoping Lucy doesn't take it away at the last minute. I need to kick that football this time, to feel my foot make contact and watch it fly into the air. Like Charlie Brown, I am trying to have faith that Lucy will fulfil her promise this time, but I won't know for sure until I start running towards it.
Lucky for me, my doctor is doing his best to reassure me at every turn. I will be monitored weekly from here. Scan this week, appointment next week where we do some blood and urine tests and also get a peek at our little girl. Then a scan the week after. And then an appointment and a delivery the week after that.
If you were counting those weeks you will realize what I did,,,, only 3 weeks to go. Yikes!
Three weeks until our delivery date. It hardly seems real. I think that's mostly due to the fact that I rarely allow my mind to go there. To that place where she is born healthy and alive and we get to take her home. I mostly force my mind to stay in the now. I allow myself to plan the next few weeks from a practical perspective and try to keep it at that.
Trying not to get my hopes up too much. As if that would really protect me if things went wrong. As if I have some sort of control over things. As if!
He did the measurements and said she is growing well. She's estimated to be over 5 pounds at this point which is up a over a pound from two weeks ago. I've gained 3 pounds since 2 weeks ago so it's nice to see that at least one of those went to her. She still has a fat belly which I love. He spent some time checking out her internal organs and I got to watch her doing some practice breathing. Not that I could really tell what I was looking at, but I took his word for it.
He also mentioned that she has a full head of hair. I found this fact interesting since my son was born completely bald. When I called to tell The Hubby he laughed. He said, "She's got a fat belly and lots of hair,,, she must get that from me." I got a good laugh out of that one too.
We're so close and yet so far away. I just don't want a repeat of last time, when everything was taken from us at 36 weeks.
Kind of like that Charlie Brown cartoon where he runs to kick the football and Lucy takes it away at the last minute and he ends kicking the air and falling on his back. I feel like that. Like I'm getting ready to run at the football again for a kick and hoping Lucy doesn't take it away at the last minute. I need to kick that football this time, to feel my foot make contact and watch it fly into the air. Like Charlie Brown, I am trying to have faith that Lucy will fulfil her promise this time, but I won't know for sure until I start running towards it.
Lucky for me, my doctor is doing his best to reassure me at every turn. I will be monitored weekly from here. Scan this week, appointment next week where we do some blood and urine tests and also get a peek at our little girl. Then a scan the week after. And then an appointment and a delivery the week after that.
If you were counting those weeks you will realize what I did,,,, only 3 weeks to go. Yikes!
Three weeks until our delivery date. It hardly seems real. I think that's mostly due to the fact that I rarely allow my mind to go there. To that place where she is born healthy and alive and we get to take her home. I mostly force my mind to stay in the now. I allow myself to plan the next few weeks from a practical perspective and try to keep it at that.
Trying not to get my hopes up too much. As if that would really protect me if things went wrong. As if I have some sort of control over things. As if!
Monday, 14 May 2012
I'm Tired Of Being That Woman
I feel like crying is all I do these days.
I cry about this and I cry about that.
I'm so tired of crying.
So tired of being "that woman."
The one who is sad.
The one you can't say certain things around.
Censoring your words.
Not bringing up things in front of me.
Like new babies.
Like Mother's Day.
Tiptoeing around me.
Because I'm damaged.
Because you might make me cry.
Because you don't know what to say.
Or how to act.
I'm so tired of being that woman.
The woman you feel sorry for.
That you want to reach out to.
Because it's just such a sad story.
Because I'm having a hard time.
Because you're secretly relieved it happened to me instead of to you.
I'm tired of being that woman.
But she is me.
I am her.
Desire does not erase the reality.
Will cannot change the facts.
It is who I am.
Like it or not.
I cry about this and I cry about that.
I'm so tired of crying.
So tired of being "that woman."
The one who is sad.
The one you can't say certain things around.
Censoring your words.
Not bringing up things in front of me.
Like new babies.
Like Mother's Day.
Tiptoeing around me.
Because I'm damaged.
Because you might make me cry.
Because you don't know what to say.
Or how to act.
I'm so tired of being that woman.
The woman you feel sorry for.
That you want to reach out to.
Because it's just such a sad story.
Because I'm having a hard time.
Because you're secretly relieved it happened to me instead of to you.
I'm tired of being that woman.
But she is me.
I am her.
Desire does not erase the reality.
Will cannot change the facts.
It is who I am.
Like it or not.
Friday, 11 May 2012
Midnight Meltdown
I've been battling with insomnia again. I know it's normal in late pregnancy, but for me I think it's something more than that. You see, we are now at the point in this pregnancy when everything went wrong for my son. I know I've written about this before and don't want to sound like a broken record, but it's really hard right now.
Flashbacks to my last pregnancy.
Comparing things as best I can.
Remembering.
It's all a bit too much at times. Each week closer to week 36 (when we found out he was gone) is like the exact reverse of waiting for Christmas morning. Logic tells me that there's nothing special about any of these weeks, but fear and emotion sometimes take over and I'm a total mess.
So many milestones to get through before we can hold a (hopefully) living breathing Frostina in our arms. We already passed the 32 week mark which was the last good scan for my son. We had a very positive scan which I wrote about here. Just passing that milestone was a huge relief.
The next one is 34 weeks. I didn't have a scan at 34 weeks last time, but I did see my doctor and heard my baby boy's heartbeat. It's the last time I know for sure he was alive. This time I'm having a scan at 34 weeks so I can be much more sure that Frostina is OK.
Then I have another appointment with my doctor at 35 weeks. Not a full scan, but a normal visit. He has this small portable ultrasound machine so we will get to see her then as well. This is really important to me as we know that my son went to heaven sometime between week 34 and 36. We don't know exactly when, so that whole time will be one huge grief trigger--- sounds fun doesn't it.
It's these things and more that have been spinning around my head lately. These fears and worries that have been keeping me up at night. I wasn't sure I'd ever sleep soundly again, until a few nights ago. The Hubby is my best friend and he's also really good at knowing when I'm about to meltdown. He has this second sense of when I'm about to lose it. He sometimes knows before I do.
So the other night I was getting ready to hit the bed and battle with sleep once more. He came in and asked if I wanted to talk about anything. I said no but the tears immediately came. A flood of fear, and emotion, and tears, and snot all came rushing out at once (pretty). I have been so worried that I will let him down again. That something will go wrong with Frostina and I won't even notice. That somehow if I'd been more vigilant I could have saved our son.
It went on and on like this for a while. I'm pretty good at blaming myself for things so there was a lot to get through. The Hubby just held me and assured me that I didn't let him down last time around. That we both did the best we could and that there was no way to know there was anything wrong. He also reminded me how much more carefully we're being monitored this time and how much better Frostina is doing than her brother was.
I cried for a long time..... and then I slept. A hard sleep, only interrupted by the 4 potty breaks I have every night these days. Since then I've been able to sleep like a baby, I even took a nap yesterday. I guess I really needed that cry!
Flashbacks to my last pregnancy.
Comparing things as best I can.
Remembering.
It's all a bit too much at times. Each week closer to week 36 (when we found out he was gone) is like the exact reverse of waiting for Christmas morning. Logic tells me that there's nothing special about any of these weeks, but fear and emotion sometimes take over and I'm a total mess.
So many milestones to get through before we can hold a (hopefully) living breathing Frostina in our arms. We already passed the 32 week mark which was the last good scan for my son. We had a very positive scan which I wrote about here. Just passing that milestone was a huge relief.
The next one is 34 weeks. I didn't have a scan at 34 weeks last time, but I did see my doctor and heard my baby boy's heartbeat. It's the last time I know for sure he was alive. This time I'm having a scan at 34 weeks so I can be much more sure that Frostina is OK.
Then I have another appointment with my doctor at 35 weeks. Not a full scan, but a normal visit. He has this small portable ultrasound machine so we will get to see her then as well. This is really important to me as we know that my son went to heaven sometime between week 34 and 36. We don't know exactly when, so that whole time will be one huge grief trigger--- sounds fun doesn't it.
It's these things and more that have been spinning around my head lately. These fears and worries that have been keeping me up at night. I wasn't sure I'd ever sleep soundly again, until a few nights ago. The Hubby is my best friend and he's also really good at knowing when I'm about to meltdown. He has this second sense of when I'm about to lose it. He sometimes knows before I do.
So the other night I was getting ready to hit the bed and battle with sleep once more. He came in and asked if I wanted to talk about anything. I said no but the tears immediately came. A flood of fear, and emotion, and tears, and snot all came rushing out at once (pretty). I have been so worried that I will let him down again. That something will go wrong with Frostina and I won't even notice. That somehow if I'd been more vigilant I could have saved our son.
It went on and on like this for a while. I'm pretty good at blaming myself for things so there was a lot to get through. The Hubby just held me and assured me that I didn't let him down last time around. That we both did the best we could and that there was no way to know there was anything wrong. He also reminded me how much more carefully we're being monitored this time and how much better Frostina is doing than her brother was.
I cried for a long time..... and then I slept. A hard sleep, only interrupted by the 4 potty breaks I have every night these days. Since then I've been able to sleep like a baby, I even took a nap yesterday. I guess I really needed that cry!
Tuesday, 8 May 2012
Why I'm Not The Model Yoga Student
I've been doing yoga for most of this pregnancy. Prenatal yoga is good for lots of reasons. It helps keep you loose and flexible which is good since most preggos tense up a lot and have aches and pains. It also is supposed to help prepare you for labor (unless you're me and have a scheduled c-section) and help with your recovery afterwards.
It can get a bit crunchy granola at times (nothing wrong with that, just not my thing) with lots of talk about natural childbirth and home births. There can also be some preaching about not letting anyone steal your birth experience from you by scaring you into taking drugs. Again, nothing wrong with this train of thought,,,, but I'll take all the drugs I can get. Overall though, they're a very accepting group and are willing to look past those of us who want to take drugs and have our babies in a hospital. So if they can accept my ideas, I'm willing to accept theirs and the fact that we agree to disagree.
You get to meet other pregnant women and when they're not looking you can compare your bump to theirs. You also get to meet what I like to refer to as "those crazy women" who are still doing yoga when they're 41 weeks pregnant. I'm very mature in my head and my inner voice screams, "Get that baby out of you while it's still alive," and, "What the hell are you doing here, you should be home on the couch" when I see them. But luckily I haven't yet said it out loud so I'm still allowed to attend the class.
One of the benefits of yoga is the relaxation and meditation portion. In pregnancy yoga there is lots of focus on putting your stress and anxiety aside and taking time to bond with your baby. In theory this is a great idea. We lead busy lives and it's important to take time to relax, especially when we're pregnant.
The only problem with this in practice is that when my mind has too much time to think about this baby it starts to get worried. How on earth am I supposed to relax and focus on this baby when I'm so worried about her all the time?? I spend lots of my day trying not to think about how worried I am. I try to distract myself and pretend I'm not, but I am worried... all the time.
So this extra bonding time while great, is time for my mind to go crazy with anxiety. Here's what my inner voice sounded like during today's class when I was supposed to be focusing on my breathing.
"So if anything goes wrong I will just call the hospital and head right down. Wait, I don't have the midwives desk number on my phone. I need to program that in right away because if I call my doctor and he doesn't answer I need to have it. Hmmm, should I call The Hubby before I call the hospital or wait until I'm in the taxi? He might get mad if I don't call him first but if I call him first I'll start crying and then maybe the hospital won't be able to understand me. No, definitely call the hospital first,,,, must get that number programmed in right away. Wait,,,, which part of the hospital do I need to go to? The main building or the consulting rooms where I get my scans done? What if I go to the wrong place? Will my doctor come to me, or will I have to walk across to him? STOP,,, you are in yoga and are supposed to be concentrating on your breathing. You shouldn't be thinking about this right now. Things are fine with Frostina and you are getting yourself all worked up for nothing."
It's about this time that yoga is over and I'm feeling just as stressed as when I started.
So I'm not the model yoga student, that's for sure.
It can get a bit crunchy granola at times (nothing wrong with that, just not my thing) with lots of talk about natural childbirth and home births. There can also be some preaching about not letting anyone steal your birth experience from you by scaring you into taking drugs. Again, nothing wrong with this train of thought,,,, but I'll take all the drugs I can get. Overall though, they're a very accepting group and are willing to look past those of us who want to take drugs and have our babies in a hospital. So if they can accept my ideas, I'm willing to accept theirs and the fact that we agree to disagree.
You get to meet other pregnant women and when they're not looking you can compare your bump to theirs. You also get to meet what I like to refer to as "those crazy women" who are still doing yoga when they're 41 weeks pregnant. I'm very mature in my head and my inner voice screams, "Get that baby out of you while it's still alive," and, "What the hell are you doing here, you should be home on the couch" when I see them. But luckily I haven't yet said it out loud so I'm still allowed to attend the class.
One of the benefits of yoga is the relaxation and meditation portion. In pregnancy yoga there is lots of focus on putting your stress and anxiety aside and taking time to bond with your baby. In theory this is a great idea. We lead busy lives and it's important to take time to relax, especially when we're pregnant.
The only problem with this in practice is that when my mind has too much time to think about this baby it starts to get worried. How on earth am I supposed to relax and focus on this baby when I'm so worried about her all the time?? I spend lots of my day trying not to think about how worried I am. I try to distract myself and pretend I'm not, but I am worried... all the time.
So this extra bonding time while great, is time for my mind to go crazy with anxiety. Here's what my inner voice sounded like during today's class when I was supposed to be focusing on my breathing.
"So if anything goes wrong I will just call the hospital and head right down. Wait, I don't have the midwives desk number on my phone. I need to program that in right away because if I call my doctor and he doesn't answer I need to have it. Hmmm, should I call The Hubby before I call the hospital or wait until I'm in the taxi? He might get mad if I don't call him first but if I call him first I'll start crying and then maybe the hospital won't be able to understand me. No, definitely call the hospital first,,,, must get that number programmed in right away. Wait,,,, which part of the hospital do I need to go to? The main building or the consulting rooms where I get my scans done? What if I go to the wrong place? Will my doctor come to me, or will I have to walk across to him? STOP,,, you are in yoga and are supposed to be concentrating on your breathing. You shouldn't be thinking about this right now. Things are fine with Frostina and you are getting yourself all worked up for nothing."
It's about this time that yoga is over and I'm feeling just as stressed as when I started.
So I'm not the model yoga student, that's for sure.
Monday, 30 April 2012
Please Baby Please
Be born alive and healthy.
Seems like such a simple request and yet it's all I can think about these days.
I follow lots of blogs written by women just like me. Women who have lost babies. Women who have picked themselves up and trudged through their grief. Women who have been brave enough and lucky enough to find themselves pregnant again. Women who are doing their best to manage their fear while still trying to stay positive that their rainbow babies will be delivered to them, alive and healthy.
I've been so happy to see so many rainbow babies born lately. These much wanted babies, born to parents who know what it's like to not get their happy ending. Babies who were much loved and much wanted. Babies born into families who will treat them like the true miracles that they are. Because as much as I believe that every baby born is a miracle, I think rainbow babies are just that much more special. Special to their families in a way that if you haven't lost a baby you cannot understand.
Reading about all these rainbows has given me hope. Hope that perhaps it's my turn too. My turn to have my rainbow baby born alive and healthy. Because life can't be that cruel, right? Once you've had one terrible tragedy you surely deserve your happy ending.
Yesterday I read about another angel born into heaven. A beautiful baby girl born still at 36 weeks. Her parents lost her older brother a while back and this was to be their rainbow baby. Their happy ending. Their second chance to be parents to a living child.
Reading that post struck fear into the very core of me. It took me right back to that time and place when we found out our son had passed away. That feeling never really leaves you, you just tuck it away and try not to think about it. It reminded me that life can be that cruel, and bad things can happen over and over again to good people.
When I read this terrible news I was shocked and saddened. I was so very sad for them and in a way not ready to believe that it could happen to them again. Then the reality set in, it had happened to them,,, and it could still happen to me.
It could still happen to me.
It could still happen to me.
It could still happen to me.
I couldn't get that thought out of my head. I was struck down with sheer terror at the very thought of it. It's not that this is a new concept to me. In fact, it's something that is never far from my mind. But seeing it happen to someone I feel connected to made it just that more real. And that scared me in a way I just can't explain.
I can't handle another loss and I'm pretty sure The Hubby can't either. We are so deeply in love with this baby girl. I have been thinking about what additional questions I will be asking my doctor this week to make sure we stay on top of things this time. So that we won't be caught by surprise. So that she can be born alive.
And now that's all I can think about. Please baby please, be born alive and healthy. Because your Daddy and I really need you to be here with us. Because we just can't go through all that again.
Please baby please???
Seems like such a simple request and yet it's all I can think about these days.
I follow lots of blogs written by women just like me. Women who have lost babies. Women who have picked themselves up and trudged through their grief. Women who have been brave enough and lucky enough to find themselves pregnant again. Women who are doing their best to manage their fear while still trying to stay positive that their rainbow babies will be delivered to them, alive and healthy.
I've been so happy to see so many rainbow babies born lately. These much wanted babies, born to parents who know what it's like to not get their happy ending. Babies who were much loved and much wanted. Babies born into families who will treat them like the true miracles that they are. Because as much as I believe that every baby born is a miracle, I think rainbow babies are just that much more special. Special to their families in a way that if you haven't lost a baby you cannot understand.
Reading about all these rainbows has given me hope. Hope that perhaps it's my turn too. My turn to have my rainbow baby born alive and healthy. Because life can't be that cruel, right? Once you've had one terrible tragedy you surely deserve your happy ending.
Yesterday I read about another angel born into heaven. A beautiful baby girl born still at 36 weeks. Her parents lost her older brother a while back and this was to be their rainbow baby. Their happy ending. Their second chance to be parents to a living child.
Reading that post struck fear into the very core of me. It took me right back to that time and place when we found out our son had passed away. That feeling never really leaves you, you just tuck it away and try not to think about it. It reminded me that life can be that cruel, and bad things can happen over and over again to good people.
When I read this terrible news I was shocked and saddened. I was so very sad for them and in a way not ready to believe that it could happen to them again. Then the reality set in, it had happened to them,,, and it could still happen to me.
It could still happen to me.
It could still happen to me.
It could still happen to me.
I couldn't get that thought out of my head. I was struck down with sheer terror at the very thought of it. It's not that this is a new concept to me. In fact, it's something that is never far from my mind. But seeing it happen to someone I feel connected to made it just that more real. And that scared me in a way I just can't explain.
I can't handle another loss and I'm pretty sure The Hubby can't either. We are so deeply in love with this baby girl. I have been thinking about what additional questions I will be asking my doctor this week to make sure we stay on top of things this time. So that we won't be caught by surprise. So that she can be born alive.
And now that's all I can think about. Please baby please, be born alive and healthy. Because your Daddy and I really need you to be here with us. Because we just can't go through all that again.
Please baby please???
Thursday, 12 April 2012
A Letter To My Unborn Daughter
My dear sweet baby girl. Today I am 29 weeks pregnant with you. This is a milestone that is met with both excitement and fear. I feel guilty about the fear and sadness that has followed me through my pregnancy with you. You are a true miracle and a huge blessing. I should be shouting from the rooftops about just how happy your impending arrival has made me.
I am being given a second chance to be a mother to a living baby. You are that second chance, and yet I find myself overcome with the worry that something will happen to you, like it did to your older brother. I don't know if you know this, but you have a brother who is smiling down on you from heaven. We love him and wanted nothing more than to be able to hold him in our arms and take him home with us. Sadly, that was never to be and we can only hold his memory in our hearts.
Your daddy and I weren't sure that we could have another baby, and yet here you are growing inside me. I'm amazed at how much we already love you, even though we haven't even met you properly. I love how you seem to know when I'm worried and give me a kick or two as if to remind me that you're still there and you're still OK. I apologize that we haven't decided on a name for you just yet, but I promise you that we're working on that and will make a decision very soon.
We are already head over heels for you, sweet baby girl. Your daddy even has one of your ultrasound photos in his work planner. I think it's because he has to travel for work and wants to keep you close to him. When I saw that photo it made my heart melt. He loves you so much that we wants to be able to look at your photo while he's away and can't feel you kicking inside me. That's why it's so important that you keep growing. We need for you to be OK. We need for you to be born alive and healthy. Because I'm not sure either of us could survive another loss.
I wish that my pregnancy with you wasn't so filled with fear. A fear that sometimes drowns out the joy. Because you deserve the joy. You deserve to have parents who are excited and happy for your arrival. A happiness that isn't clouded in fear and sadness. Parents who aren't waiting for the other shoe to drop, to be told the worst possible news. You deserve that and so much more.
You deserve a mother who isn't afraid to let her friends throw you a baby shower. You deserve a mother who isn't so scared something will go wrong that she refuses to buy any baby things until after you arrive. You deserve a mother who isn't crying all the time about your brother in heaven who she misses terribly.
I don't ever want you to think that you are somehow second best, or a replacement for him, because you are not. I don't want you to ever feel like you're living in his shadow, because you won't be. But the fact is, that his death forever changed your mom and dad. We are trying our best to separate our feelings about his loss from our feelings of joy for your arrival. It's just that sometimes the lines are too blurred and we just can't manage it.
I can only hope that the day you are born alive and healthy that you can help us to heal. And that we can finally realize the joy that you will be bringing to our lives. You deserve that from us.
I am being given a second chance to be a mother to a living baby. You are that second chance, and yet I find myself overcome with the worry that something will happen to you, like it did to your older brother. I don't know if you know this, but you have a brother who is smiling down on you from heaven. We love him and wanted nothing more than to be able to hold him in our arms and take him home with us. Sadly, that was never to be and we can only hold his memory in our hearts.
Your daddy and I weren't sure that we could have another baby, and yet here you are growing inside me. I'm amazed at how much we already love you, even though we haven't even met you properly. I love how you seem to know when I'm worried and give me a kick or two as if to remind me that you're still there and you're still OK. I apologize that we haven't decided on a name for you just yet, but I promise you that we're working on that and will make a decision very soon.
We are already head over heels for you, sweet baby girl. Your daddy even has one of your ultrasound photos in his work planner. I think it's because he has to travel for work and wants to keep you close to him. When I saw that photo it made my heart melt. He loves you so much that we wants to be able to look at your photo while he's away and can't feel you kicking inside me. That's why it's so important that you keep growing. We need for you to be OK. We need for you to be born alive and healthy. Because I'm not sure either of us could survive another loss.
I wish that my pregnancy with you wasn't so filled with fear. A fear that sometimes drowns out the joy. Because you deserve the joy. You deserve to have parents who are excited and happy for your arrival. A happiness that isn't clouded in fear and sadness. Parents who aren't waiting for the other shoe to drop, to be told the worst possible news. You deserve that and so much more.
You deserve a mother who isn't afraid to let her friends throw you a baby shower. You deserve a mother who isn't so scared something will go wrong that she refuses to buy any baby things until after you arrive. You deserve a mother who isn't crying all the time about your brother in heaven who she misses terribly.
I don't ever want you to think that you are somehow second best, or a replacement for him, because you are not. I don't want you to ever feel like you're living in his shadow, because you won't be. But the fact is, that his death forever changed your mom and dad. We are trying our best to separate our feelings about his loss from our feelings of joy for your arrival. It's just that sometimes the lines are too blurred and we just can't manage it.
I can only hope that the day you are born alive and healthy that you can help us to heal. And that we can finally realize the joy that you will be bringing to our lives. You deserve that from us.
Tuesday, 13 March 2012
Oh Great, She Brought Her Baby
Disclaimer- This post will probably come across as very self centered. I don't usually live in that all about me place, but today I am. As a Baby Loss Mom I reserve the right to act and feel things in a very selfish way sometimes. I don't actually admit my true feelings to anyone but The Hubby and all of you, so hopefully no one in my real life knows just what a self centered bitch I can be. End of disclaimer.
As I've mentioned before, I'm an American Expat living in England. When I first moved here I joined a club for other expat women (from all over the world, not just the US). The women I have met through this club have been my lifeline and I know for sure that I wouldn't have gotten through the loss of my son without them.
Because I can never do anything half-assed, I am of course on the board of this club. Our board meets monthly to talk about what's going on and to make decisions that affect the membership. These meetings are very casual affairs held in the mornings and young children are welcome. So there are usually a few toddlers there running around while we all chat.
One of the members of the board just gave birth to her son a few weeks ago. I've written about her a few times before, most recently when I was invited to her baby shower. You can read a bit about her if you like by following this link but it's not really vital to today's story. But if you're a new reader and want a bit of background then there you go.
Having just given birth a few weeks ago I figured she would take a pass on the next few meetings. I mean, who wants to bring their newborn into a room with so many women and possibly toddlers?? Talk about a germ-a-palooza. So I figured it would be a few months before I had to endure her waltzing into the room with her brand new baby boy.
Wrong!
I found out the night before the meeting that she was coming so at least I wasn't totally surprised. But that wasn't really much time to prepare myself. I have done a good job of avoiding all newborn babies since my son died, especially baby boys. I just can't be around them because they are the physical manifestation of what I lost. My newborn son who will never grow into a toddler, or a boy, or a man. Just writing that brings tears to my eyes.
So I was hoping that she wouldn't come for a few more months, until hopefully I will have my own newborn baby. I keep thinking that once I have a real life living newborn then seeing other newborns won't hurt so much. Once I have my own newborn then seeing other newborns won't feel like a stab in the heart. Because right now, even the thought of being around a newborn baby makes me anxious, and nervous, and stressed.
I had a hard time sleeping the night before the meeting. I could feel the anxiety running rampant in my body. How was I going to handle seeing a newborn baby boy? Would I burst into tears? Would I be able to look at him? What should I say? How should I act? Would everyone in the room be able to see my discomfort and sadness? How on earth would I be able to cope?
I seriously considered not going. It's something I thought about all night and while I was getting ready the next morning. I could just not go, that way I wouldn't have to deal with the situation. Such a tempting idea,,, and yet it felt wrong. I won't be able to hide from newborn babies forever so maybe this was the time to test myself. In the end I decided to suck it up and just go.
So I get to the meeting and a few minutes later she strolls in, pushing her tiny newborn son in his buggy. My stomach dropped but I kept a smile on my face. I welcomed her and made some comment about being impressed she was out of the house and back in action so soon. I'm sure she didn't get the subtext that I was actually horrified that she was at the meeting. I don't think anyone else did either.
Of course everyone swooned over her new baby. So I figured I was off the hook because she would be so distracted with all the attention that she wouldn't notice that I was pretty much ignoring her and her baby. I figured that once the meeting got started I could focus on what we were talking about and pretty much forget that there was a newborn boy in the room.
Wrong again!
She ended up sitting right next to me. A situation I managed to wiggle out of by offering my seat to someone who had to leave early and needed to be closer to the door. I was feeling quite smug about now having a buffer sitting in between us. But alas, my smugness was short lived.
Wouldn't you know? This woman sitting between us wanted to hold the baby! Not just hold him for a few minutes, but hold him for most of the meeting. When he got hungry she also wanted to feed him. I figured he would be taken out of the room to be breastfed but his ever-so-prepared Mom had pumped a bottle for just this occasion. So now I'm sitting next to the woman who is feeding this baby, and burping him, and settling him back to sleep.
I wanted to die. Or leave the room. Or burst into tears. Or just sit somewhere else. I wanted to be anywhere besides where I was.
But the meeting was underway and I was stuck. So I did my best to focus my attention to the topics at hand. I actively participated in the discussion,,, anything to keep my focus off the newborn baby sitting inches away from me. I am amazed at how I held it together. I didn't cry or even tear up. I don't think anyone even noticed my discomfort. I was a total fake and I think people bought it.
On the outside I was the perfect face of happiness, on the inside I was crumbling into a million little pieces. Why did she have to bring her baby? Why couldn't she just have stayed away for a few more months. Doesn't she realize that the presence of her perfect, living baby boy is like torture to me?
*See I told you I was going to a very selfish, all about me place!
Somehow I managed to get through it. I'd like to think that my son was sending me strength from above. Or maybe I'm just getting better at faking it these days. Either way, I made it to the end of the meeting without the humiliation of bursting into tears. After it was over, I treated myself with a nice lunch at a very posh and grown up restaurant and did a bit of shopping. A reward for holding it together.
So there you go. A totally selfish, all about me post. I know there are other perspectives to see this situation from, but at the moment I can only see mine. And for now, I'm OK with that.
Pouring my heart out with Shell.
As I've mentioned before, I'm an American Expat living in England. When I first moved here I joined a club for other expat women (from all over the world, not just the US). The women I have met through this club have been my lifeline and I know for sure that I wouldn't have gotten through the loss of my son without them.
Because I can never do anything half-assed, I am of course on the board of this club. Our board meets monthly to talk about what's going on and to make decisions that affect the membership. These meetings are very casual affairs held in the mornings and young children are welcome. So there are usually a few toddlers there running around while we all chat.
One of the members of the board just gave birth to her son a few weeks ago. I've written about her a few times before, most recently when I was invited to her baby shower. You can read a bit about her if you like by following this link but it's not really vital to today's story. But if you're a new reader and want a bit of background then there you go.
Having just given birth a few weeks ago I figured she would take a pass on the next few meetings. I mean, who wants to bring their newborn into a room with so many women and possibly toddlers?? Talk about a germ-a-palooza. So I figured it would be a few months before I had to endure her waltzing into the room with her brand new baby boy.
Wrong!
I found out the night before the meeting that she was coming so at least I wasn't totally surprised. But that wasn't really much time to prepare myself. I have done a good job of avoiding all newborn babies since my son died, especially baby boys. I just can't be around them because they are the physical manifestation of what I lost. My newborn son who will never grow into a toddler, or a boy, or a man. Just writing that brings tears to my eyes.
So I was hoping that she wouldn't come for a few more months, until hopefully I will have my own newborn baby. I keep thinking that once I have a real life living newborn then seeing other newborns won't hurt so much. Once I have my own newborn then seeing other newborns won't feel like a stab in the heart. Because right now, even the thought of being around a newborn baby makes me anxious, and nervous, and stressed.
I had a hard time sleeping the night before the meeting. I could feel the anxiety running rampant in my body. How was I going to handle seeing a newborn baby boy? Would I burst into tears? Would I be able to look at him? What should I say? How should I act? Would everyone in the room be able to see my discomfort and sadness? How on earth would I be able to cope?
I seriously considered not going. It's something I thought about all night and while I was getting ready the next morning. I could just not go, that way I wouldn't have to deal with the situation. Such a tempting idea,,, and yet it felt wrong. I won't be able to hide from newborn babies forever so maybe this was the time to test myself. In the end I decided to suck it up and just go.
So I get to the meeting and a few minutes later she strolls in, pushing her tiny newborn son in his buggy. My stomach dropped but I kept a smile on my face. I welcomed her and made some comment about being impressed she was out of the house and back in action so soon. I'm sure she didn't get the subtext that I was actually horrified that she was at the meeting. I don't think anyone else did either.
Of course everyone swooned over her new baby. So I figured I was off the hook because she would be so distracted with all the attention that she wouldn't notice that I was pretty much ignoring her and her baby. I figured that once the meeting got started I could focus on what we were talking about and pretty much forget that there was a newborn boy in the room.
Wrong again!
She ended up sitting right next to me. A situation I managed to wiggle out of by offering my seat to someone who had to leave early and needed to be closer to the door. I was feeling quite smug about now having a buffer sitting in between us. But alas, my smugness was short lived.
Wouldn't you know? This woman sitting between us wanted to hold the baby! Not just hold him for a few minutes, but hold him for most of the meeting. When he got hungry she also wanted to feed him. I figured he would be taken out of the room to be breastfed but his ever-so-prepared Mom had pumped a bottle for just this occasion. So now I'm sitting next to the woman who is feeding this baby, and burping him, and settling him back to sleep.
I wanted to die. Or leave the room. Or burst into tears. Or just sit somewhere else. I wanted to be anywhere besides where I was.
But the meeting was underway and I was stuck. So I did my best to focus my attention to the topics at hand. I actively participated in the discussion,,, anything to keep my focus off the newborn baby sitting inches away from me. I am amazed at how I held it together. I didn't cry or even tear up. I don't think anyone even noticed my discomfort. I was a total fake and I think people bought it.
On the outside I was the perfect face of happiness, on the inside I was crumbling into a million little pieces. Why did she have to bring her baby? Why couldn't she just have stayed away for a few more months. Doesn't she realize that the presence of her perfect, living baby boy is like torture to me?
*See I told you I was going to a very selfish, all about me place!
Somehow I managed to get through it. I'd like to think that my son was sending me strength from above. Or maybe I'm just getting better at faking it these days. Either way, I made it to the end of the meeting without the humiliation of bursting into tears. After it was over, I treated myself with a nice lunch at a very posh and grown up restaurant and did a bit of shopping. A reward for holding it together.
So there you go. A totally selfish, all about me post. I know there are other perspectives to see this situation from, but at the moment I can only see mine. And for now, I'm OK with that.
Pouring my heart out with Shell.
Saturday, 3 March 2012
Such A Simple Question
Is this your first?
It's such a simple question isn't it? An innocent question. A polite question. The kind of question that is asked all the time. It's part of the "getting to know you" routine. You meet a pregnant woman and you ask her if this is her first baby. No harm in that,,,, right?
This simple question is causing me much anxiety right now. Even though I knew it would happen as my belly grows, I'm still never prepared to answer it. So I get nervous and uncomfortable and never know what to say.
What is the right way to answer this question when your first baby died at 36 weeks?
Do you say no and spill your terrible life story to a complete stranger? Do you become that woman who brings up the sad subject of dead babies at fun social events? Do you become the woman who makes a perfectly nice person who was just trying to be polite feel completely and totally uncomfortable? Or do you lie and smile and say yes, sparing everyone else your discomfort?
If I'm asked by a stranger, like at a shop or in a taxi, I always say yes. I figure the person who is asking is just being polite and really doesn't care about the answer. Plus, they're not entitled to know anything personal about me. I liken it to saying "fine" when a stranger asks how I'm doing. I never feel guilty about this answer,,, this one is easy.
If I'm asked by someone who wants to know for professional reasons, like a doctor or dentist or yoga instructor, I usually say, "Well this isn't my first pregnancy." That lets them know there is history that they can either ask further about if they need to, or let it go if they don't feel they need any further info. This answer has worked out very well for me. It's the answer I figured I'd use in social settings as well,, the truth without too much detail.
A few nights ago I went to a social gathering. There were quite a few women who I had never met before, but who I will most likely see again. I'm visibly pregnant these days so of course my pregnancy was a big topic of conversation. I was asked several times if this was my first and each time I said yes. I cringed inside after answering this way. What happened to my plan to tell people this wasn't my first pregnancy? What happened to my perfect answer? Why couldn't I use it?
I left the event feeling guilty. As if I had somehow forsaken my son by not mentioning him. Maybe guilt isn't the right word. Maybe conflicted is a better way to describe how I felt. I don't know,,, I just didn't feel right about the way I handled the situation.
I've never been the kind of person to spill my guts and family secrets when I first meet someone. I have never been the kind of person who goes to a fun social event and then goes on and on about my problems. I attend social events to chat and gossip and have fun. In my early grief, these events were a way to forget about my horrible life if only for a few hours. So it's not at all out of character that I wouldn't mention something sad at an event that is supposed to be fun.
But for some reason, this is really getting to me. I feel like I lied to these women just to protect them from feeling uncomfortable. So that they could get to know the fun, happy me before I spring my tragedy on them. So I won't be seen as the woman who's baby died before I'm seen as anything else. So that they wouldn't all scurry away and be afraid to ask me any more questions just in case I had more terrible stories to tell.
Is that what it is?? Am I being selfish? Or am I just trying not to spoil a fun event with my sad story?
I don't understand why this question still catches my by surprise and takes my breath away. I should expect it by now. I should be more prepared.
After all, it's such a simple question.
It's such a simple question isn't it? An innocent question. A polite question. The kind of question that is asked all the time. It's part of the "getting to know you" routine. You meet a pregnant woman and you ask her if this is her first baby. No harm in that,,,, right?
This simple question is causing me much anxiety right now. Even though I knew it would happen as my belly grows, I'm still never prepared to answer it. So I get nervous and uncomfortable and never know what to say.
What is the right way to answer this question when your first baby died at 36 weeks?
Do you say no and spill your terrible life story to a complete stranger? Do you become that woman who brings up the sad subject of dead babies at fun social events? Do you become the woman who makes a perfectly nice person who was just trying to be polite feel completely and totally uncomfortable? Or do you lie and smile and say yes, sparing everyone else your discomfort?
If I'm asked by a stranger, like at a shop or in a taxi, I always say yes. I figure the person who is asking is just being polite and really doesn't care about the answer. Plus, they're not entitled to know anything personal about me. I liken it to saying "fine" when a stranger asks how I'm doing. I never feel guilty about this answer,,, this one is easy.
If I'm asked by someone who wants to know for professional reasons, like a doctor or dentist or yoga instructor, I usually say, "Well this isn't my first pregnancy." That lets them know there is history that they can either ask further about if they need to, or let it go if they don't feel they need any further info. This answer has worked out very well for me. It's the answer I figured I'd use in social settings as well,, the truth without too much detail.
A few nights ago I went to a social gathering. There were quite a few women who I had never met before, but who I will most likely see again. I'm visibly pregnant these days so of course my pregnancy was a big topic of conversation. I was asked several times if this was my first and each time I said yes. I cringed inside after answering this way. What happened to my plan to tell people this wasn't my first pregnancy? What happened to my perfect answer? Why couldn't I use it?
I left the event feeling guilty. As if I had somehow forsaken my son by not mentioning him. Maybe guilt isn't the right word. Maybe conflicted is a better way to describe how I felt. I don't know,,, I just didn't feel right about the way I handled the situation.
I've never been the kind of person to spill my guts and family secrets when I first meet someone. I have never been the kind of person who goes to a fun social event and then goes on and on about my problems. I attend social events to chat and gossip and have fun. In my early grief, these events were a way to forget about my horrible life if only for a few hours. So it's not at all out of character that I wouldn't mention something sad at an event that is supposed to be fun.
But for some reason, this is really getting to me. I feel like I lied to these women just to protect them from feeling uncomfortable. So that they could get to know the fun, happy me before I spring my tragedy on them. So I won't be seen as the woman who's baby died before I'm seen as anything else. So that they wouldn't all scurry away and be afraid to ask me any more questions just in case I had more terrible stories to tell.
Is that what it is?? Am I being selfish? Or am I just trying not to spoil a fun event with my sad story?
I don't understand why this question still catches my by surprise and takes my breath away. I should expect it by now. I should be more prepared.
After all, it's such a simple question.
Monday, 27 February 2012
Hope Creeps In
This pregnancy has not been easy on me emotionally. I suppose all pregnancies after a loss are difficult and what I'm experiencing is normal. That is if your definition of normal is rotating between fear, panic, dread, grief, sadness, nervousness, paranoia, wistfulness, longing, fixating, and terror. Since I'm always on the hunt for my new normal here, I'd say this probably isn't the best definition available. But alas, sometimes reality rules.
For the past 22 weeks I've been scared. Worried that something will go wrong like it did last time. Worried that I won't be able to handle it again. Worried that I won't be able to cope with another loss. Wondering if I was a complete crazy person to put myself in this vulnerable place again.
As time has gone on something odd has happened. Every now and then I experience this strange sensation. At first I didn't even notice it was there. It would flit in and out of my consciousness. Blink and you'd miss it.
What was this strange sensation? It seemed foreign and yet somehow familiar. Tiny butterflies in my stomach. A small smile that would creep onto my face from time to time. A skip in my step. A song in my heart. My mind starting to think ahead,,,, making plans. What was this strange sensation?
Suddenly it hit me. I knew exactly what this strange emotion was.
It was hope.
Somehow amongst all the fear and the worry and the stress of this new pregnancy, hope had crept in. I didn't recognize it at first because I was so preoccupied with all my negative thoughts. Even if I did have awareness of it, I pushed it right back where it came from.
But this hope was stubborn. Instead of allowing itself to be pushed away, it pushed back. It came more often, screaming my name each time. "I'm back," it would shout. "Remember me? Still I pushed it back.
There is no room for hope when you're living each day in fear. Hope is the enemy. Hope makes you vulnerable to being hurt again. Protecting yourself from hope will protect you from pain,,,,, right?
But hope wouldn't give up. It came even more often, and it stayed for longer periods of time. Enough time for me to start going to prenatal yoga again. Enough time for me to start looking at baby girl nursery items on the internet. Enough time for me to buy tickets to go to the Baby Show here in London. Enough time for me to attend the Baby Show and actually enjoy myself!
I kid you not,,, I went to the Baby Show and enjoyed myself.
I'm very good at denial though and so even though hope was there, I refused to acknowledge it's existence. I got home from the Baby Show and couldn't stop talking about it to The Hubby. I didn't buy anything of course, but I had done all sorts of "research" on the latest baby buggy and nursery furniture. I was babbling on about this and that when I realized that The Hubby was smiling at me.
"What are you smiling at??" I asked him. Of course he said he wasn't smiling at anything, which made me continue to question until he finally spilled. He said it was just nice to see me happy and excited again. And that's when it hit me. Hope had crept back into my life. Perhaps not blind hope, more like guarded hope. But hope nonetheless.
This is not to say that I'm over the fear. I'm most definitely still feeling fear, panic, dread, grief, sadness, nervousness, paranoia, wistfulness, longing, fixating, and terror. It's just that now it's sprinkled with a little hope.
For the past 22 weeks I've been scared. Worried that something will go wrong like it did last time. Worried that I won't be able to handle it again. Worried that I won't be able to cope with another loss. Wondering if I was a complete crazy person to put myself in this vulnerable place again.
As time has gone on something odd has happened. Every now and then I experience this strange sensation. At first I didn't even notice it was there. It would flit in and out of my consciousness. Blink and you'd miss it.
What was this strange sensation? It seemed foreign and yet somehow familiar. Tiny butterflies in my stomach. A small smile that would creep onto my face from time to time. A skip in my step. A song in my heart. My mind starting to think ahead,,,, making plans. What was this strange sensation?
Suddenly it hit me. I knew exactly what this strange emotion was.
It was hope.
Somehow amongst all the fear and the worry and the stress of this new pregnancy, hope had crept in. I didn't recognize it at first because I was so preoccupied with all my negative thoughts. Even if I did have awareness of it, I pushed it right back where it came from.
But this hope was stubborn. Instead of allowing itself to be pushed away, it pushed back. It came more often, screaming my name each time. "I'm back," it would shout. "Remember me? Still I pushed it back.
There is no room for hope when you're living each day in fear. Hope is the enemy. Hope makes you vulnerable to being hurt again. Protecting yourself from hope will protect you from pain,,,,, right?
But hope wouldn't give up. It came even more often, and it stayed for longer periods of time. Enough time for me to start going to prenatal yoga again. Enough time for me to start looking at baby girl nursery items on the internet. Enough time for me to buy tickets to go to the Baby Show here in London. Enough time for me to attend the Baby Show and actually enjoy myself!
I kid you not,,, I went to the Baby Show and enjoyed myself.
I'm very good at denial though and so even though hope was there, I refused to acknowledge it's existence. I got home from the Baby Show and couldn't stop talking about it to The Hubby. I didn't buy anything of course, but I had done all sorts of "research" on the latest baby buggy and nursery furniture. I was babbling on about this and that when I realized that The Hubby was smiling at me.
"What are you smiling at??" I asked him. Of course he said he wasn't smiling at anything, which made me continue to question until he finally spilled. He said it was just nice to see me happy and excited again. And that's when it hit me. Hope had crept back into my life. Perhaps not blind hope, more like guarded hope. But hope nonetheless.
This is not to say that I'm over the fear. I'm most definitely still feeling fear, panic, dread, grief, sadness, nervousness, paranoia, wistfulness, longing, fixating, and terror. It's just that now it's sprinkled with a little hope.
Sunday, 19 February 2012
Wait, I Thought This Was Supposed To Reduce Our Stress?
I thought I had the perfect solution for some of our pregnancy anxiety. Boy was I wrong!!
Last week I wrote this post about our decision to get a home Doppler so we can listen to Frostina's heartbeat when we're feeling anxious. Having lost one baby in utero, our fear of this happening again is probably a million times higher than it should be. We both figured that once this little machine came then we could at least calm our fears a bit.
It arrived mid week and The Hubby enthusiastically ripped it out of the box and got things in working order. We knew it may be difficult for us to find her heartbeat at first since neither of us knew what we were doing. So I lowered my jeans and squirted the gel on my belly. Within about a minute we could both hear that wonderful sound not unlike a galloping horse,,, it was Frostina's little heartbeat. We both smiled and hugged and were happy.
Saturday morning arrived and The Hubby said that maybe we should listen again since we hadn't heard Frostina in a few days. We were getting ready to go out for the day so I said we could do it after I'd had my shower.
Now I should mention that I've been feeling a lot more movement lately. Frostina had a particularly active session late Friday night and I had even felt her squirming around early Saturday morning. So we weren't going to listen because we were worried, just because it seemed like a fun thing to do. Call it parental bonding if you like.
So I get out of the shower and we get everything ready to listen. We squirt the gel and turn on the Doppler. I move it around, and around, and around. Nothing.
The hubby assumes I'm doing it wrong and takes over. He tries, and tries, and tries. Nothing
I start to panic. I think he does too. Neither of us wants to admit it though. So we keep trying, and we start to argue about how to do it, or where to put the wand, or if we need more gel or not.
Now logically we know that we're probably just doing it wrong. After all, this is only the second time we've tried this machine. We have heard and read all the warnings about how it can be hard to find the heartbeat on your own. We know that professionals go to actual training to do this. We know that this exact scenario is why the professionals don't recommend using a doppler at home, because it can cause unnecessary fear. But knowing this in our logical minds does not help calm the rising panic we are both feeling.
I remind The Hubby that I've been feeling her move all last night and this morning. We try some more and have mixed results. We do hear a few fleeting beats every now and then, but can't get anything consistent. We take a break to get dressed and in that time I continue to feel Frostina kicking and rolling around. I try to assure The Hubby of this but I'm not sure if he believes me or not. Not that he thinks I'm lying,,,, but we both know that I'm not the best judge of these things.
We try one more time and get the same mixed results. I finally tell him that we need to stop and try again later. That I know she's fine because I can feel her moving. That she's still tiny and is probably just in a spot where we can't hear her. He agrees and then we both sit in silence for a while. The fear in the room is palpable yet neither of us say anything. He finally agrees to get on with our day and says he trusts me to tell him if I think we need to go to the hospital. Which I don't think is necessary because I know she's fine.
We get through the day and focus on other things. I continue to feel Frostina all day and let The Hubby know each time it happens. We get home in the evening and I figure all is fine. Then he asks if I'm ok. Which is Hubby code for "I'm not ok." So I ask him if he wants me to check again. He says I can if I want to which is Hubby code for "Please will you?"
So I lay on the couch and squirt a bunch of gel on my belly. Within seconds I hear that wonderful sound not unlike a galloping horse,,, it was Frostina's little heartbeat. I didn't get it for long before she shifted position and it was gone again. But it was there long enough for both of us to feel a huge sigh of relief.
I continue to feel her moving around today. It's almost like she knows we were worried about her yesterday and she's trying to make her presence known. She's saying, "Don't believe I'm ok,,,, here's a kick for you. Didn't feel that one enough, here's another, and another." I didn't try the doppler today because I figure if I can feel her this well there's no sense repeating yesterday's drama.
The Hubby is no longer a fan of the Doppler. His actual words were a profanity laced rant but I'll try and clean it up to make them suitable for publication. He said that if this stupid machine was going to be so flipping hard to use then it wasn't worth the money we paid for it. He said that it was supposed to bring us peace, not stress. I reminded him that this was one of the reasons I hesitated in buying one in the first place.
Will we be throwing the Doppler away?? Probably not. We do appreciate the fact that it can be a useful tool when used properly. We know that we are just figuring things out and it will take practice and experience to get good at it. We know this, but that knowledge doesn't help when blind panic takes over.
Will we try using it again?? Probably, but not until she's a bit bigger and there aren't so many places in my belly where she can hide from the machine.
Will we use it "just for fun" again. No F'ing way!
Last week I wrote this post about our decision to get a home Doppler so we can listen to Frostina's heartbeat when we're feeling anxious. Having lost one baby in utero, our fear of this happening again is probably a million times higher than it should be. We both figured that once this little machine came then we could at least calm our fears a bit.
It arrived mid week and The Hubby enthusiastically ripped it out of the box and got things in working order. We knew it may be difficult for us to find her heartbeat at first since neither of us knew what we were doing. So I lowered my jeans and squirted the gel on my belly. Within about a minute we could both hear that wonderful sound not unlike a galloping horse,,, it was Frostina's little heartbeat. We both smiled and hugged and were happy.
Saturday morning arrived and The Hubby said that maybe we should listen again since we hadn't heard Frostina in a few days. We were getting ready to go out for the day so I said we could do it after I'd had my shower.
Now I should mention that I've been feeling a lot more movement lately. Frostina had a particularly active session late Friday night and I had even felt her squirming around early Saturday morning. So we weren't going to listen because we were worried, just because it seemed like a fun thing to do. Call it parental bonding if you like.
So I get out of the shower and we get everything ready to listen. We squirt the gel and turn on the Doppler. I move it around, and around, and around. Nothing.
The hubby assumes I'm doing it wrong and takes over. He tries, and tries, and tries. Nothing
I start to panic. I think he does too. Neither of us wants to admit it though. So we keep trying, and we start to argue about how to do it, or where to put the wand, or if we need more gel or not.
Now logically we know that we're probably just doing it wrong. After all, this is only the second time we've tried this machine. We have heard and read all the warnings about how it can be hard to find the heartbeat on your own. We know that professionals go to actual training to do this. We know that this exact scenario is why the professionals don't recommend using a doppler at home, because it can cause unnecessary fear. But knowing this in our logical minds does not help calm the rising panic we are both feeling.
I remind The Hubby that I've been feeling her move all last night and this morning. We try some more and have mixed results. We do hear a few fleeting beats every now and then, but can't get anything consistent. We take a break to get dressed and in that time I continue to feel Frostina kicking and rolling around. I try to assure The Hubby of this but I'm not sure if he believes me or not. Not that he thinks I'm lying,,,, but we both know that I'm not the best judge of these things.
We try one more time and get the same mixed results. I finally tell him that we need to stop and try again later. That I know she's fine because I can feel her moving. That she's still tiny and is probably just in a spot where we can't hear her. He agrees and then we both sit in silence for a while. The fear in the room is palpable yet neither of us say anything. He finally agrees to get on with our day and says he trusts me to tell him if I think we need to go to the hospital. Which I don't think is necessary because I know she's fine.
We get through the day and focus on other things. I continue to feel Frostina all day and let The Hubby know each time it happens. We get home in the evening and I figure all is fine. Then he asks if I'm ok. Which is Hubby code for "I'm not ok." So I ask him if he wants me to check again. He says I can if I want to which is Hubby code for "Please will you?"
So I lay on the couch and squirt a bunch of gel on my belly. Within seconds I hear that wonderful sound not unlike a galloping horse,,, it was Frostina's little heartbeat. I didn't get it for long before she shifted position and it was gone again. But it was there long enough for both of us to feel a huge sigh of relief.
I continue to feel her moving around today. It's almost like she knows we were worried about her yesterday and she's trying to make her presence known. She's saying, "Don't believe I'm ok,,,, here's a kick for you. Didn't feel that one enough, here's another, and another." I didn't try the doppler today because I figure if I can feel her this well there's no sense repeating yesterday's drama.
The Hubby is no longer a fan of the Doppler. His actual words were a profanity laced rant but I'll try and clean it up to make them suitable for publication. He said that if this stupid machine was going to be so flipping hard to use then it wasn't worth the money we paid for it. He said that it was supposed to bring us peace, not stress. I reminded him that this was one of the reasons I hesitated in buying one in the first place.
Will we be throwing the Doppler away?? Probably not. We do appreciate the fact that it can be a useful tool when used properly. We know that we are just figuring things out and it will take practice and experience to get good at it. We know this, but that knowledge doesn't help when blind panic takes over.
Will we try using it again?? Probably, but not until she's a bit bigger and there aren't so many places in my belly where she can hide from the machine.
Will we use it "just for fun" again. No F'ing way!
Wednesday, 15 February 2012
Frosty?? Or Frostina??
Today we had our 20 week anomaly scan. To say I was nervous about it is probably the understatement of the year. When I get nervous I get a bit distracted and ditzy. I was so nervous that I started doing stupid things around the house. Like trying to go to sleep with my contact lenses in and putting my yoga pants on backwards. I didn't notice about the yoga pants until hours later when I sat down to pee and noticed the tag was in the front,,, duh!
I just don't look at scans the same way I did last pregnancy. In my naive, happy go lucky mind the biggest worry was if I would get a cute scan photo to share with my family. It never occurred to me that anything could or would go wrong. I was really that sure that I was "all clear" and was taking my son home with me. Oh how things have changed this time around.
So I was hugely relieved to learn that all is well with our little Frosty. My doctor (who does all his own scans) took a long time checking everything out. Everything looks great and baby is measuring well in all categories. I was so relieved to hear that heartbeat that I started crying. Why does this all have to be so scary this time??
Anyway, he asked us if we wanted to know the sex and of course our answer was YES! We have been dying to know if we've got a little Frosty or a little Frostina in there. And of course I have to share this great news with all of you as well. So here goes.
That's right people, we're having a girl. The Hubby and I both started crying when we heard the news. I'm absolutely thrilled!! Not that I really cared one way or the other, I just want her to be born alive and healthy. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't excited at the prospect of shopping for all those adorable little girl clothes.
So from now on, I will be calling her Frostina instead of Frosty! My mother is petrified that we will get attached to this little nickname and actually name her Frostina. I may be a bit crazy from time to time, but I'm not that crazy. Although she will probably always be Frostina here on this blog.
Wow, I'm having a girl. Wow!
I just don't look at scans the same way I did last pregnancy. In my naive, happy go lucky mind the biggest worry was if I would get a cute scan photo to share with my family. It never occurred to me that anything could or would go wrong. I was really that sure that I was "all clear" and was taking my son home with me. Oh how things have changed this time around.
So I was hugely relieved to learn that all is well with our little Frosty. My doctor (who does all his own scans) took a long time checking everything out. Everything looks great and baby is measuring well in all categories. I was so relieved to hear that heartbeat that I started crying. Why does this all have to be so scary this time??
Anyway, he asked us if we wanted to know the sex and of course our answer was YES! We have been dying to know if we've got a little Frosty or a little Frostina in there. And of course I have to share this great news with all of you as well. So here goes.
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| That's me at 20 weeks with a rather large bump if I do say so myself. I sent this photo to my family back home. The only difference being that I included my head in the one I sent to them. : ) |
So from now on, I will be calling her Frostina instead of Frosty! My mother is petrified that we will get attached to this little nickname and actually name her Frostina. I may be a bit crazy from time to time, but I'm not that crazy. Although she will probably always be Frostina here on this blog.
Wow, I'm having a girl. Wow!
Saturday, 11 February 2012
Because We Don't Trust Me
But what happens if history shows that you have no instinct, no gut, and you will have no idea if anything is wrong? What if your inner voice tells you things are fine when they aren't. What if your body gives you false hope? What do you do then?? That my friends is the dilemma The Hubby and I are currently facing.
You see, my son died inside my womb and for at least a week and I HAD NO IDEA.
That's right, I had no idea anything was wrong. I remember writing about it four months after he was born. At that time I was still wracked with guilt for not noticing. For not being able to sound the alarm and save him. I played the what if game a lot back then. Blaming myself, trying to think back to when the feelings of movement changed, when they slowed down. Even in hindsight I have been unable to pinpoint the moment when he left us.
As time has gone on I have learned to forgive myself. I know that there is no way I would have happily gone through my days if I had any inkling that something was wrong.
The hardest part to forgive was the fact that I gave The Hubby the impression that everything was OK when it wasn't. Our husbands rely on us to tell them everything about how the pregnancy is going. They don't carry the baby and as a result, they are on the outside looking in. They depend on us to communicate with them, and to let them know if something is wrong. That's where I failed big time.
I've been starting to feel Frosty moving around. It's a wonderful thing to feel your baby moving and kicking. I had forgotten how happy those little kicks and flutters make me. Every time I feel something I happily announce it to The Hubby. He's just as thrilled as I am for this newest development. However, this has also raised some new anxiety for him.
When he doesn't get a kick report from me, he will ask me if I've felt anything. If I say no then he gets worried. I tried to assure him that I shouldn't feel Frosty all the time but this didn't help. A day or two went by before he shared his fears with me. He's worried that something will happen and we won't know again,,, like last time. And neither of us wants to go through that pain and shock again.
We both fear that I don't really know what a kick or a flutter is. After all, I swore I could feel my son moving, even after we knew he was dead. So maybe I just can't tell the difference between baby existing inside of me vs baby actually moving inside of me. So as a result of my past history,,, we don't trust me to know if things are going wrong.
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| Not cheap, but worth every penny |
So we have decided to buy a home doppler. I was against it for a long time thinking it might make me more paranoid. But after seeing the fear and worry on The Hubby's face I think it's our best option. We both need to be able to feel reassured that things are OK. Not just based on what I think I'm feeling, but based on actually hearing Frosty's little heartbeat. So I placed the order and now we're just waiting for it to arrive.
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