Saturday, March 7, 2009

Shattered

I have not blogged in the past about my struggle with fertility. But I had one. I was in the evil conception/miscarriage/pregnancy loss/surgery/hormone therapy cycle for a good(see: bad or stress-filled) two years. I found out I was pregnant for the first time in early December of 2005. I was filled with excitement and could not wait to see the little one in my belly develop and grow and make me grow wide/bloated as he or she grew and eventualized out of my womb.

Of course I had anxiety of growing wider since I had been so successful at Weight Watchers, but all of that was overshadowed by the excitement of growing a little human. I finally felt what it was like to be pregnant, and although I felt REALLY pregnant I was loving it! I found out a short time later that my doctor in Texas was what he called "cautiously pessimistic" about the outcome of my pregnancy and would not give me anymore clarity than that and repeated ultrasounds to see how slow my babies heartbeat was. I could not stand the ambiguity any longer and I saw my regular OB in Utah when I went to visit. He confirmed that I would miscarry and that my baby had died at 8 weeks gestation. I valued the honesty and even though it hurt, it allowed me to plan and endure the wrestle with my emotions that was to come - after all I WAS pregnant, and I wasn't passing the tissue so maybe they were wrong! Maybe I was still going to have this beautiful baby that I had envisioned in my head. On February 21st, 2006 I miscarried and it was one of the most painful things I have ever experienced. It was like labor without the result of a beautiful baby in your arms at the end, I guess it wasn't like it - it was it! I was told I had to wait 3 months to get pregnant again, even considering my Uterine Septum that was discovered during the first pregnancy. My Doctor in Utah advised against this and believed I should have surgery to correct the problem, but since I was not living in Utah and would not be under his care we followed the direction of our Doctor in Texas and tried to get pregnant again 3 months later.

I got pregnant that summer and again felt sick and very pregnant. I changed doctors because I was not comfortable with the treatment we received with the previous pregnancy. All seemed to be going well, I was growing a little baby inside me. I began to bleed at around 7 weeks and I was put on bed rest and what they call "pelvic rest" meaning Husband and I now had a purely platonic existence. Joy of joys, let me tell you! But I was ready to do whatever I had to do to protect our growing baby. The bleeding did not stop and I was sure at 12 weeks I had miscarried when I had what seemed like period bleeding, but when I went to the doctor there was our little baby on the ultrasound screen weathering the storm that was happening in my body. It seemed that there was a pocket of blood behind the placenta and that is what was causing the bleeding. It could potentially cause miscarriage because it is an abruption making it so the placenta does not function properly because it is not attached all the way.

Fear and panic overtook my existence. I had already experienced a miscarriage and I did not want to do it again. I remember calling my mom and sobbing hysterically into the phone, "Why me?! Why do I have to go through this again!" But I was reassured by my doctor that the baby was fine and we were sent to a fetal specialist to have ultrasounds every week. At 14 weeks we found out that we were having a little boy, it was abundantly clear! He was moving around and kicking and comfortably swimming in my belly. We left the doctors office with orders that we could discontinue seeing the specialist and just go with our normal doctor. The baby looked good and we happily went on our way with a video of our little one.

At my next appointment I was 16 weeks and was giddily anticipating hearing my babies heartbeat again. I lay on the exam table as my doctor gelled my stomach and placed the monitor to hear the heartbeat. She laughed a little nervously and asked if he might be hiding. But her expression was stern and there was no reassurance in it. She calmly told me that we should do an ultrasound to see if we could find out if he was turned so we couldn't hear his heartbeat. And so we both quickly went to the Ultrasound room and I sat there panicked and overwhelmed to the point that I wanted to throw up. As she sat down and placed the ultrasound wand to my stomach her face fell and she announced, "It's what I thought, your baby died." She then proceeded to show me how his tiny fragile body had no life and was collapsed at the bottom of my uterus. And I held it together until I had to speak. Husband had gone to school that day because it was supposed to be a run of the mill appointment. Now I had to call him and tell him we no longer had a baby. I dialed him on my cell phone and when he picked up I broke into a thousand pieces and could not form coherent sentences amongst my hiccuped sobs. It was a Friday morning and I was going to have to wait until Monday to be put into labor and deliver our baby, it would be September 11, 2006.

My mother flew in and stayed with us and cared for me when I returned home from the hospital. Husband was very understanding and helpful and we started going to therapy together to deal with my postpartum depression and anger. And I scheduled surgery to remove my uterine septum that Christmas while I was in Utah.

I successfully had surgery and waited three months after to try and get pregnant. I found out I was pregnant again on July 17, 2007 and I was ecstatic and panic stricken, after all, what if it happened again. I had now suffered a miscarriage and a pregnancy loss during which I could have chosen to name and bury my baby and it had torn me apart. I moved to Utah weeks later and was under the care of my regular and trusted OB. And despite bleeding for weeks and many scares I gave birth in March of 2008 to a beautiful baby boy who stole my heart!

I know this a long look into what I have experienced, but I hope that as it has helped me to know that others have experienced this, I can help others by sharing my experience. As I look forward to having more children, it still scares the pants off me! That "What if?" is always hanging around and the memories of what I have experienced come back anew when I begin to think of pregnancy and all the joy and sorrow it can bring.

Monday, March 2, 2009

Stayed

Picture Courtesy of Me

Today marked a very important moment for me. I have in the past made it known that I am not the "stay-at-home" kind. I am to obsessive and social, and I love to go and do fun things. I found it hard to calm the urge to go, go, go when Little was born and therefor I spent the first 9 months of his life traveling everyday to the nearby city where my parents and siblings live and wandering from house to house visiting and inhabiting their homes. I enjoyed this time with my sisters and parents and found that I was building relationships with them that had dwindled since I'd been married and moved away for two years and it was a nice feeling to have that closeness.


As Little grew bigger it became harder to relax in those moments and carting him around at a near 20 lbs. in a carseat became a drag (literally). Little was more active, invasive, and downright curious about everything and it was becoming easier to have him at home in the evening with his own toys and his comfortable surroundings and the two people who love him most. I decided that I would try a little experiment and see how I liked being a "stay-at-home" gal. Especially after I talked to one of the husbands good friends, who is my inherited good friend and it seemed as though we had so much in common and she still liked to stay home and care for her little girl. So I thought, "Heck, why not me?!" and I gave it a whirl. I started to stay home 2 days a week.


The first day was wonderful, Little and I slept in and I got up and cleaned the house and the Husband was shocked at the beauty of his home when he returned that evening. It was a nice feeling. The second night was a late night at school for the Husband, and by the time he returned I was all tuckered out and Little'd out for that matter. I wondered if this was the path for me, maybe noone would ever understand the solitude and quiet that I did not desire and the adult interaction that I craved. The funny thing was, when I went "into town" the next time, it held less appeal. I could feel the irritation rising that I was not at my own house with my own Little, and all the things that make him happy and comfortable.


I am now making the choice to stay at home 3 days a week and if I can make that more frequent I am happy to. I still travel in to see my family 2 days a week at least and I have my gym membership and weight watchers. So I am there frequently, but not yearning and craving it like I used to.


So today I made the choice that when Little fell asleep on my chest, at 12 months old, a rarety in any case, to put aside my tasks that I had set out for myself and let my son sleep on me for nearly 2 hours. It was BLISS! I miss those moments when I got to hold him as he slept deeply and sweetly for hours and needed me and cuddled. He is turning into a little rough and tumble boy and I stole a moment (a long moment) to be with my little one and savor the sweetness of infancy that will never return as he grows older.


When he woke up I took him to the park and we sat on a swing together and showed him how it worked and then I took him down the slide and played with him on the playground. I appreciate every stage he goes through, and savor every moment. And now I can say "I so AM the "stay-at-home" kind of girl."