William,
I thought about you all day today. I had to count on my fingers to make sure that it was true, that five years have gone by since you were here with us. Five years. The other day I was skimming through Facebook and saw the silly face of the little girl who's birthday was just a few days after you were due. Her mommy and I were so excited to be pregnant at the same time, were planning to go to childbirth classes together. Now when I see pictures of her I always see a shadow of you near by. Five. I remember being five, such a happy age.
You know how much I miss you. Daddy does, too. Each year when this day comes along I wish that there was something that I could do. I know other moms and dads take time apart in remembrance, make cakes or go to the cemetery. For me each year has been different. I wanted to go to get a new box to keep all of your things in, but my big event for the day was going to the doctor to check on your baby sister.
February is here. Decorated with hearts and sentiments of love. It used to hurt to see these things. It doesn't anymore. I remember where I sat, for weeks it seems, after you were born. This same little laptop kept me from completely falling into the abyss. As Valentine's Day was approaching I looked for a love poem to share with your Daddy. ee cummings has always been my favorite poet, and when I came across this poem I was dumbfounded. I thought I had read all of his poems, how had I never seen this before? It was like it had been written just for us.
i carry your heart with me
(i carry it in my heart)
i am never without it
(anywhere i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet)
i want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
GTT take two
I failed the one hour Glucose Tolerance Test (again, this happened last pregnancy, too). So yesterday I spent almost 4 hours at the lab. After fighting nausea for the first hour it went ok. The lab has a private waiting room with a little love seat where I could wait in relative comfort.
I got a voicemail from the nurse today saying she needs to talk to me about the results, so that doesn't bode well. I've called back but am now waiting for her to return my call. If it isn't one thing it's another. (I passed the three hour test last time.)
And I should have a more positive attitude today, since I had an ultrasound this morning that showed my cervix measuring 3.5 cm But, instead, I am in a total funk.
This is stressful. On all of us. I just keep telling myself that it's only a few more weeks until I can resume somewhat normal activity again.
This, too, shall pass.
I got a voicemail from the nurse today saying she needs to talk to me about the results, so that doesn't bode well. I've called back but am now waiting for her to return my call. If it isn't one thing it's another. (I passed the three hour test last time.)
And I should have a more positive attitude today, since I had an ultrasound this morning that showed my cervix measuring 3.5 cm But, instead, I am in a total funk.
This is stressful. On all of us. I just keep telling myself that it's only a few more weeks until I can resume somewhat normal activity again.
This, too, shall pass.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
bed rest
When I was pregnant with Vincent I think some of the people in my life started to doubt that the pregnancy was really high risk. My cervix kept measuring almost 4 cm and other than being "worried" I seemed just fine. Never mind that once I got home from work every day I spent most of my time on the couch.
Anyway, when my water broke at 35 weeks we had our confirmation. There was never any doubt, in anyone's mind, that we would have another cerclage this time and follow the protocol for an IC/high risk pregnancy.
Things were going great until a few weeks ago. I ended up spending a few hours in triage at my hospitals L&D hooked up to the monitors while they watched me have lots of little contractions. The longer I laid there, the more spaced apart they became until they finally stopped. Those lovely contractions were accompanied by a lot of pressure "down there" and lower back pain, so it was nothing to ignore. The OB who was on call did an FfN (they take a swab & it gives a pretty accurate measure of whether or not you will go into labor within the next two weeks or so) and it came back negative so we went home feeling somewhat reassured. We scaled back my activity level for a few days (Mr. C and his folks both helped out a lot more with Vincent) and I stopped going to work. I settled in to a new routine, with Vincent and I at home every day.
Then, last Wednesday, we went for an ultrasound and found out that my cervix is measuring 3.1 cm. Some women would cheer at that measurement, but my cervix only got down to 3.5 at 31 weeks with Vincent and that was the last time they measured. So it scared us all. Now we have a lovely woman here during the days to help with Vincent and she takes care of the housework, too. And I am trying to stay positive.
I saw my Dr yesterday and he reinforced what we had decided on our own--modified bed rest. Which, according to him, means that I am to do as little as possible. Really, the only way that I could do total bed rest (I don't mean the hospital kind, which I've done, where you can't even get up to pee and they put those inflating boots on you to prevent blood clots) would be if I had someone watching Vincent all day. My lovely helper is here from 9 until 3:30 and that leaves a lot of hours in the day. He is content to crawl up on the couch with me for a short amount of time and then it's back to "show me," as he grabs my hand to take me to show me his toys or take me to another room.
Yesterday was the 28 week milestone, or the bronze medal, as my Dr calls it. He says 31 weeks is silver and 34 weeks is gold. I am filled with so many conflicting emotions and just feel so tired. It's odd, being on bed rest I would think I'd be, well, rested. But instead I feel worn out and have insomnia. Vincent woke up three times last night then ended up in bed with us until he woke up for good a full four hours earlier than I am used to. I've tried to sleep today but to no avail.
I know I need to look on the bright side. And I do. 28 weeks is fantastic and she is healthy and strong, I can tell. Girls do much better than boys when they are premature, so there's that, too. And Vincent is happy and we have someone so amazing here helping us. And even though we really don't need one more expense (still paying off bills from the last pregnancy!) we'd rather pay to have someone here than to have a long NICU stay. I could go on...
I could also vent about all of the not so bright thoughts I've been having, but I'll continue to keep them to myself. At least for now. Last time we had one goal: Live Baby. This pregnancy after a loss thing is not any easier the second time around. It's hard in different ways, but, like grief, it can't be measured quantitatively. It is hard. And I really think this is the last time we'll do it. That realization was painful at first, but it is becoming more and more sure to me (us). It makes me sad, though. I saw us as a bigger family.
OK, now that I got myself crying I suppose I should stop writing.
Anyway, when my water broke at 35 weeks we had our confirmation. There was never any doubt, in anyone's mind, that we would have another cerclage this time and follow the protocol for an IC/high risk pregnancy.
Things were going great until a few weeks ago. I ended up spending a few hours in triage at my hospitals L&D hooked up to the monitors while they watched me have lots of little contractions. The longer I laid there, the more spaced apart they became until they finally stopped. Those lovely contractions were accompanied by a lot of pressure "down there" and lower back pain, so it was nothing to ignore. The OB who was on call did an FfN (they take a swab & it gives a pretty accurate measure of whether or not you will go into labor within the next two weeks or so) and it came back negative so we went home feeling somewhat reassured. We scaled back my activity level for a few days (Mr. C and his folks both helped out a lot more with Vincent) and I stopped going to work. I settled in to a new routine, with Vincent and I at home every day.
Then, last Wednesday, we went for an ultrasound and found out that my cervix is measuring 3.1 cm. Some women would cheer at that measurement, but my cervix only got down to 3.5 at 31 weeks with Vincent and that was the last time they measured. So it scared us all. Now we have a lovely woman here during the days to help with Vincent and she takes care of the housework, too. And I am trying to stay positive.
I saw my Dr yesterday and he reinforced what we had decided on our own--modified bed rest. Which, according to him, means that I am to do as little as possible. Really, the only way that I could do total bed rest (I don't mean the hospital kind, which I've done, where you can't even get up to pee and they put those inflating boots on you to prevent blood clots) would be if I had someone watching Vincent all day. My lovely helper is here from 9 until 3:30 and that leaves a lot of hours in the day. He is content to crawl up on the couch with me for a short amount of time and then it's back to "show me," as he grabs my hand to take me to show me his toys or take me to another room.
Yesterday was the 28 week milestone, or the bronze medal, as my Dr calls it. He says 31 weeks is silver and 34 weeks is gold. I am filled with so many conflicting emotions and just feel so tired. It's odd, being on bed rest I would think I'd be, well, rested. But instead I feel worn out and have insomnia. Vincent woke up three times last night then ended up in bed with us until he woke up for good a full four hours earlier than I am used to. I've tried to sleep today but to no avail.
I know I need to look on the bright side. And I do. 28 weeks is fantastic and she is healthy and strong, I can tell. Girls do much better than boys when they are premature, so there's that, too. And Vincent is happy and we have someone so amazing here helping us. And even though we really don't need one more expense (still paying off bills from the last pregnancy!) we'd rather pay to have someone here than to have a long NICU stay. I could go on...
I could also vent about all of the not so bright thoughts I've been having, but I'll continue to keep them to myself. At least for now. Last time we had one goal: Live Baby. This pregnancy after a loss thing is not any easier the second time around. It's hard in different ways, but, like grief, it can't be measured quantitatively. It is hard. And I really think this is the last time we'll do it. That realization was painful at first, but it is becoming more and more sure to me (us). It makes me sad, though. I saw us as a bigger family.
OK, now that I got myself crying I suppose I should stop writing.
Friday, December 3, 2010
The little guy
These pictures are in no particular order and don't really represent any kind of chronology. I think the most recent picture was taken when he was 14 months old...? I need to dump the photos from my camera and my iphone onto my computer. At any rate, I realized that I haven't posted any pictures of the little guy since he was only a few months old.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
inching along
Two days from now it will be the exact (gestational) day that William was born and died. I have an appointment with the high risk specialist tomorrow. While I have no reason to expect anything but good news from the ultrasound I am still a bundle of nerves. Less so than I would be if I didn't have the appointment scheduled. When I was pregnant with Vincent I made the mistake of not scheduling one for the loss week. I was a mess.
We had the "big" ultrasound three weeks ago. They are so thorough, looking at everything...and that darn doctor is so doom and gloom. The baby is fine. But before I got to feel ok about everything he did his best to scare me to death. There is (was?) a cyst on the brain. The u/s tech told me it means nothing and that it will go away. He eventually told me pretty much the same, but not until after he went over all of the chromosomal risk factors and how the cysts sometimes go along with Trisomy 18 (I think this is the one) but that this baby shows none of the other signs. So why not say that to begin with? He also had me worried about the baby's size, telling me that he was concerned that at 10 oz the measurements were a week behind where I should be. I didn't think that sounded small for 19 weeks 5 days, but he just kept bringing it up--saying it might not be significant, but it certainly wasn't insignificant and we would need to keep an eye on things. I got home and checked all of the pregnancy apps on my iphone and then googled it, too, and it is right in the normal range. I talked to my OB about him and without even having to go into all of the details he had the same take on this doctor as I do. But he's the only peri in town. Oh, and I found out that I have (had?) marginal placenta previa. We'll see how that is going tomorrow. I am not worried about it.
And we found out that this is, indeed, a baby girl. I honestly would have been equally happy to find out that it was another boy. It is starting to sink in that we're having a girl, though. So now we are dealing with the whole name thing. We pretty much have decided on what we'll name her and I think I made a mistake by telling people. We kept it a secret with Vincent once we decided (which was pretty late in the pregnancy anyway) and that way no one could give us their opinion since it wasn't up for debate.
Vincent is 19 months old and is talking like crazy now, so many words and phrases. Today I said the name to him and asked him if he could say it. He mouthed it to me a couple of times and then a moment later said it really loud.
___________
update:
*The cyst is gone.
*The placenta is moving up, as expected.
*Baby girl is growing great! 1 lb 4 oz
*We left without setting another appointment. I will talk to my OB, but I think we can monitor my cervix here at the hospital, rather than at the specialist's office.
*Mr. C said a name today that I am now seriously considering. We'll see.
We had the "big" ultrasound three weeks ago. They are so thorough, looking at everything...and that darn doctor is so doom and gloom. The baby is fine. But before I got to feel ok about everything he did his best to scare me to death. There is (was?) a cyst on the brain. The u/s tech told me it means nothing and that it will go away. He eventually told me pretty much the same, but not until after he went over all of the chromosomal risk factors and how the cysts sometimes go along with Trisomy 18 (I think this is the one) but that this baby shows none of the other signs. So why not say that to begin with? He also had me worried about the baby's size, telling me that he was concerned that at 10 oz the measurements were a week behind where I should be. I didn't think that sounded small for 19 weeks 5 days, but he just kept bringing it up--saying it might not be significant, but it certainly wasn't insignificant and we would need to keep an eye on things. I got home and checked all of the pregnancy apps on my iphone and then googled it, too, and it is right in the normal range. I talked to my OB about him and without even having to go into all of the details he had the same take on this doctor as I do. But he's the only peri in town. Oh, and I found out that I have (had?) marginal placenta previa. We'll see how that is going tomorrow. I am not worried about it.
And we found out that this is, indeed, a baby girl. I honestly would have been equally happy to find out that it was another boy. It is starting to sink in that we're having a girl, though. So now we are dealing with the whole name thing. We pretty much have decided on what we'll name her and I think I made a mistake by telling people. We kept it a secret with Vincent once we decided (which was pretty late in the pregnancy anyway) and that way no one could give us their opinion since it wasn't up for debate.
Vincent is 19 months old and is talking like crazy now, so many words and phrases. Today I said the name to him and asked him if he could say it. He mouthed it to me a couple of times and then a moment later said it really loud.
___________
update:
*The cyst is gone.
*The placenta is moving up, as expected.
*Baby girl is growing great! 1 lb 4 oz
*We left without setting another appointment. I will talk to my OB, but I think we can monitor my cervix here at the hospital, rather than at the specialist's office.
*Mr. C said a name today that I am now seriously considering. We'll see.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
another tiny bean
I've wanted to post for weeks. But it's the same old thing--hard to find the time to write and then there's the old paranoia. It gets better, but it's still there.
Every milestone, every check point, every little victory...followed by the old familiar fear and the sensation that there's another shoe and it's gonnna drop.
But here we are again.
I had cerclage surgery last Tuesday, just as I started week 16. Everything went well, very well. And now I am recovering and will figure out, each day, how to "take it easy" while being a mom to a very active 18 month old.
We had a hard time getting pregnant with Vincent and expected it to take a while again. Five weeks later, when I finally admitted to myself that my period was a week late, a test from the dollar store confirmed it. It's been a combination of joy, fear, denial, and hope ever since.
Mothership gave me my first P17 shot this morning. One down, twenty more to go. If we make it that far then it will be a week farther than I made it with Vincent. Into the pregnancy, that is, as he was born at week 35. I stopped the P17 shots at 28 weeks with him. Why did I do that? My doctors exhibited very little faith in the shots, so maybe I was influenced by that. I don't know. At any rate, I stopped and a few weeks later my water broke. Interestingly, this time my doctor brought them up on his own. He seems to have had a change of heart about them.
Other than the familiarities of a pregnancy after a loss and all of the high-risk blah, blah, blah--this pregnancy is completely different than my first and second. It's hard not to buy in to all of the old wive's tales and imagine that this time it's a little girl. Time will tell. Of course that is of no real concern to me. Alive, that is all I care about.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Loose ends
Why do people take down their blogs or erase all or most of their posts when they feel like they are "done"?
I just don't get it.
I realize that I haven't posted in so long that this blog is pretty much done. But I think that it will just sit here, even then. Probably a Good-Bye post, if I really do feel like it is over, but still it will exist.
The reason why is that it is a record of where I have been. I no longer reference it, but others may. Over the years I have received many e-mails in addition to the comments that let me know that it has offered something to people out there. So maybe it still will. I know that when I really needed it I found some blogs that helped me keep my head above water. Most of those blogs no longer exist. A couple of them still do.
I understand not blogging anymore. My days are full from beginning to end. It's just the deleting that I don't understand. Maybe someone can help me see why it's done.
------------------
That being said, the reason I got online this morning is because it's been bugging me that in my last post I mentioned something that happened and didn't elaborate. I said I'd explain and didn't.
In case anyone out there cares, but mostly just to make myself feel better, I will attempt to explain it now.
I didn't write about it then because it just seemed like something that other people wouldn't understand or would think was strange or maybe even silly. But hey, if that is the case then what can I do about it?
Here is what happened:
Mr. C went to a therapist because he was feeling an intense amount of anxiety. When he was telling her what was going on with him he told her that it might sound crazy, but he had had the distinct feeling like he was under attack. He told her that the feeling had been so strong that he had actually pulled his truck over that day before and just said out loud to leave him alone. She said it didn't sound crazy to her at all. She took out a pendulum and they spent the next hour or so calling any entities that were surrounding him to leave, to go into the light. When they finished with the ones that were surrounding him they asked if there were any surrounding me. I was at home, unaware of what was going on. There were a few, but then there was one that didn't respond as the others had. With more questioning it became clear that this spirit was different. With even more questioning it occurred to them that it was William. He was hanging close to me, to us, to watch over us. They told him that he could go into the light. He did.
This was not a New Age therapist. Not that that matters. I guess you either believe that there is more to us than this physical existence, or you don't. The therapist went on to more conventional practices and has ever since. Mr. C's anxiety improved dramatically within just a few weeks of treatment and he has been doing great since then.
--------------
We are well. Busy, but just all the normal-life stuff. I wish I could find time to write and to read blogs, but it just doesn't seem to happen. I miss it and I miss those of you that I feel connected to from this world. I still peek in on you every now and then.
I just don't get it.
I realize that I haven't posted in so long that this blog is pretty much done. But I think that it will just sit here, even then. Probably a Good-Bye post, if I really do feel like it is over, but still it will exist.
The reason why is that it is a record of where I have been. I no longer reference it, but others may. Over the years I have received many e-mails in addition to the comments that let me know that it has offered something to people out there. So maybe it still will. I know that when I really needed it I found some blogs that helped me keep my head above water. Most of those blogs no longer exist. A couple of them still do.
I understand not blogging anymore. My days are full from beginning to end. It's just the deleting that I don't understand. Maybe someone can help me see why it's done.
------------------
That being said, the reason I got online this morning is because it's been bugging me that in my last post I mentioned something that happened and didn't elaborate. I said I'd explain and didn't.
In case anyone out there cares, but mostly just to make myself feel better, I will attempt to explain it now.
I didn't write about it then because it just seemed like something that other people wouldn't understand or would think was strange or maybe even silly. But hey, if that is the case then what can I do about it?
Here is what happened:
Mr. C went to a therapist because he was feeling an intense amount of anxiety. When he was telling her what was going on with him he told her that it might sound crazy, but he had had the distinct feeling like he was under attack. He told her that the feeling had been so strong that he had actually pulled his truck over that day before and just said out loud to leave him alone. She said it didn't sound crazy to her at all. She took out a pendulum and they spent the next hour or so calling any entities that were surrounding him to leave, to go into the light. When they finished with the ones that were surrounding him they asked if there were any surrounding me. I was at home, unaware of what was going on. There were a few, but then there was one that didn't respond as the others had. With more questioning it became clear that this spirit was different. With even more questioning it occurred to them that it was William. He was hanging close to me, to us, to watch over us. They told him that he could go into the light. He did.
This was not a New Age therapist. Not that that matters. I guess you either believe that there is more to us than this physical existence, or you don't. The therapist went on to more conventional practices and has ever since. Mr. C's anxiety improved dramatically within just a few weeks of treatment and he has been doing great since then.
--------------
We are well. Busy, but just all the normal-life stuff. I wish I could find time to write and to read blogs, but it just doesn't seem to happen. I miss it and I miss those of you that I feel connected to from this world. I still peek in on you every now and then.
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