Over the Hump

My P17 shot was given today as opposed to my usual day of Thursday. I was supposed to get the shot at my Wednesday appointment but since that was moved to Tuesday, I decided not to have the nurse administer the injection. So that brought me to today and Kim was kind enough to stop over on her way home from work. I truly didn't have the heart to bug her on Thanksgiving.

I am officially over the hump with more shots behind me than ahead of me. It is a nice place to be yet at the same time, a reminder that this baby will be here in about 10 weeks (assuming all goes well). I wonder how ready I am...

On another note, my crampiness and heaviness is very much attributed to my activity level. When I sit with my feet up, I feel minimal discomfort. When I become active, taking on my stairs, lifting My Girl or as we did tonight, go to the mall for photos, visit with Santa and walk a bit, I feel horrible! Needless to say I'm in quite a bit of discomfort. This is a clear indication that I need to start taking it easy as up until now, I have not really restricted much of my daily routine. Now is the time to start. The only thing I want for Christmas this year is to be pregnant and to help that wish come true, I need to take it easy.

Thankful for 26 weeks and So Much More!!!

At this point in my pregnancy, I look at the passing of each week as comfort that I won't have a baby classified as having been born at that week's gestation. It is a direct link back to my thoughts about "weekers", a word I never knew existed until My Girl was born. Anyway, it is with great relief that I know Baby Boy will not be born classified as a "25-weeker" although now that I am 26 weeks, worry that could be our mark. I am so fearful because I know what a 26 weeker looks like in the NICU, the complications they face after birth and the potential complications they can face down the road. It is very scary.

Compounding things is the fact that I am really not feeling 100%. My low back aches, I feel pressure and heaviness in my lower pelvis and prefer to be sitting with my feet up as opposed to being active in my household and life. Thankfully, my mother and hubby have taken the lead with Thanksgiving: my mom, dropping off the prepped turkey and most sides - ready for the oven, and hubby taking care of all the other details of the day. I don't know what I would do without such a multi-talented husband who is not afraid of domesticity.

I find myself pushing the fluids and taking my Procardia and Omega 3's with the hope that my symptoms will subside. I am clearly getting big and wonder how much of this is "normal" pregnancy stuff related to growing and stretching as suggested by both my doctor and experienced friends. I don't want to complain because ultimately, I want a full-term, healthy baby, but if this is "normal" pregnancy stuff (which I sure hope it is) I am a big wimp!

Turning to the holiday, it is nice that on this day of Thanksgiving, our reflections of how blessed we are as a family are the same as the reflections that occur on any other day of the year. Yes, this is a special day but the words I shared with My Girl as I tucked her into bed tonight were no more profound as a result. I felt a bit of shock in this, thinking there must be more, but at the same time, take comfort in the fact that our prayers of thanks are genuine and that it doesn't take a day that comes along once a year to figure out just how blessed we are.

Happy Thanksgiving from our family to yours!

I Just Couldn't Wait

My appointment for this week was scheduled for tomorrow but based on the way I was feeling, called this morning to move it up.

Yesterday afternoon the "cervical sensations" increased and I just didn't feel right. After a dinner of leftovers, I was in bed by 8:00. I felt horrible when Hubby asked if I wanted to say goodnight to My Girl as I knew she would request, "Mommy nuggle". I turned him down. Knowing I wasn't physically up for snuggling, and not wanting to turn My Girl down directly, unsure of who would be more upset by it, me or her, I kept myself out of sight.

I was solo this morning as Hubby had a meeting downtown. His influence on our school-day morning routine is quite helpful and I was sure wishing I had his help today, but as it turned out, we managed just fine. I wasn't too concerned about getting My Girl in the car as she is usually very excited to go to school. But when I walked out to the garage and saw this, I was concerned I might have more of a fight on my hands.

Thankfully, she was a dream and we sang and swayed to Christmas carols the whole ride.

After I played photographer for the class, I hobbled out to the car, knowing I needed to call my doctor. There are no office hours on Tuesdays and I was actually hoping they would let me go to a closer hospital for a quick ultrasound. But, as Nurse Barb put it, "in the event we need to admit you, you need to come here."

Thankfully they were able to see me, in spite of having no office hours. For some reason, it makes me feel bad when I can't make it to my next scheduled appointment. I just wish I could feel "normal" as the "typical" pregnant person isn't seen nearly as often as I am nor does the average TAC patient go for weekly scans. I think most tend to go every other week. There is absolutely no way that I could do that.

Between obtaining my ticket at the parking garage and paying my $3 to raise the gate, I was there for less than an hour. It was fabulous in terms of convenience. I was even able to pick up My Girl at school, allowing Hubby to stay at his conference instead of leaving early because I was stuck at the hospital.

My visit went well in the fact that my cervix measured longer today than Dr. C has ever measured it - not that much longer, but enough for him to comment and enough for me to feel good that it has not budged during all this discomfort I have been feeling.

The cause of my discomfort was once again attributed to my growing uterus and the fact that this is not my first pregnancy. Then why does it hurt so much? So much so that I'm afraid to move? I felt like I was doing so well, that this past week was very uneventful, that I actually felt good, "normal" for a change. It was nice to not feel the need to call the doctor at all.

Dr. C was pleasant as was Nurse Barb. I walked out of the office with an order for blood glucose testing, something I didn't get to do the first time around. It needs to be completed before 28 weeks.

So here I am, reclining in bed, watching my stomach move about as Baby Boy decides to change position. Oh how I love to feel him moving inside...it sure beats the alternative.

My Girl at 25w 5d

Reflecting

It dawned on me yesterday that at this point in my first pregnancy, I was home from the hospital (discharged on a Saturday 25w 2d) without my baby. What a welcome change to still be pregnant today, 25w 4d which is eerily similar (number wise) to 24w 5d. I've been somewhat suspicious today especially considering the indescribable flutters and sensations I feel very low in my pelvis. It's almost as though my stitch is vibrating.

The good news is that I have no contractions and haven't for days. In fact, this past weekend, I've felt fairly well, with minimal complaints. Well, except for yesterday, Baby Boy was on the quiet side and I voiced my concern to hubby. I did all the things I anticipated the docs would have told me to do: I drank some juice, sat quietly for a bit, reclined on my left side. The baby's movements were very subtle until later in the evening. He was pretty much active for the better part of the night, interfering with my ability to get comfy and fall asleep myself. But the good news is he's fine.

Today I did some clothes shopping for Baby Boy. It has been very difficult for me to find boy clothes I like. Additionally, I struggled with the size. Hubby was a 10.5 lb baby. There are moments I feel quiet confident, as does Dr. C, that I'll get pretty close to term. Then there are moments when I feel like 34 weeks would be great. Dr. Davis has me concerned about my small uterus and the implications relative to a term pregnancy. This issue is in addition to my cervical issues. So do I buy newborn size or do I go with 3 months? The six month size would have been what my hubby needed after birth with a range beginning at 12 lbs. I really don't think my body will be able to sustain a 10 lb baby, nor an 8 lb baby for that matter. Only time will tell, and one would think I have learned my lesson the first time around that I am very far from being in control of things. It's a personality thing, I suppose.

The other baby-related task we conquered this weekend, well, maybe I should say that I conquered, was selecting a swatch for bedding. I am just waiting to find out if it's cheaper to re-work My Girl's bumper, reupholstering one side and removing the ruffle, or if I should just get new. I don't want Baby Boy to feel slighted that he didn't get the dream nursery like his sister. I know he doesn't care and I know in the scheme of life it doesn't matter but on a certain level of siblings, it matters to me. There is so much that Sissy has (photos, keepsakes, albums, journals, a lactation room at the hospital named after her, influence on my license plate: NICU MOM) that I want to make sure this baby feels special too.

Never Thought I Would Ever...

It's been confirmed by my own admission that this is an anxiety-ridden pregnancy. For obvious reasons, I am scared to death that this baby is going to make an early appearance much in the way his big sister did. Preemie moms can probably identify with this emotion and fear. Being beyond the point at which My Girl was born feels bittersweet. There are so many feelings about what she didn't get, what she was short-changed by being plucked from my body because it was pushing her out otherwise. Yet I am so thankful that My Boy is still inside, where he belongs, safe and sound and protected, allowed to grow and develop as every baby should. But I don't want to get ahead of myself. Even though I am beyond the dreaded 24w 5d, there is still the fear that My Boy will arrive before his time and while there is no way he will be born a 24 weeker like his sissy, there is a chance he could be a 25 weeker. That being said, on the flip side, I have also confirmed by my own admission that I have done everything possible to ensure this pregnancy results in a delivery as close to term as possible.

Where am I going with this? Well, today I did something I never thought I would ever do... and that was cancel an appointment at my local perinatal office. It occurred to me this morning that I was just evaluated by Dr. Davis on Tuesday. Nothing has changed, I have no symptoms of anything so why would I need to be seen today, Friday, just three days later?

I bring this up because this is a huge mental and emotional milestone for me. My fear is no longer ruling as strong as it once did and I can only wonder if I am, dare I say, "relaxing" into this pregnancy, if only just the slightest touch.

25 Weeks!

Wow! I have never before been 25 weeks pregnant! It amazes me to say that considering I have a beautiful two-year old. It really defies all sense of "normal" as was reflected in the perplexed look on another mom's face at duPont earlier today. She couldn't believe that I had My Girl before I was "this pregnant", and questioned how they keep 1 lb babies alive.

I am relieved to report that my contractions have subsided. I have been extremely tired lately and my energy has been low, so perhaps it is tied to the fact that I have not been doing much in recent days. My tummy is growing and even Hubby commented about "how big" I look. Getting big was something I longed to achieve last pregnancy - and there is no way I would ever turn that down this time, nor would I complain about it. So bring on the big tummy!

My 10th Progesterone shot was administered today and I am officially half way through my injections! I just called for a refill and will pick up my new batch of supplies tomorrow. Wow, the weeks have just flown by to this point. I started the P17 at 16 weeks.

Just a few final thoughts on my previous pregnancy reflections:

• Prior to being admitted to the hospital on bed rest, I always took off my wedding rings each night before bed and never showered with them on. Afraid to remove them in the hospital for fear of losing them, I kept them on. Yes, Hubby or someone could have taken them home, but the strong symbolism of wearing my rings through what could have been a marriage-wrecking situation but thankfully (I had no doubts) was a marriage-strengthening situation, was very important to me. And while yes, my rings are just things, they were blessed by our priest and are a "sacramentals", a part of our lives as husband and wife. The comfort that reaching my left thumb across to feel the rings brought me was priceless. My rings have not left my finger since. And while it's been conditioned, if you ask My Girl what my rings mean, she will tell you herself that "Mommy married to Daddy".
• Magnesium sulfate was used to stop my contractions (contractions I had no idea I was having, by the way). It was given by IV and I was closely monitored, having my reflexes and respiration checked quite frequently. Little did I know at the time, but the "mag sulfate" as it's often referred, made me hot, hot, hot. I am a person that normally runs cold, IE: socks to bed in the summer, with the windows open and no air on, cold. Well, the mag sulfate caused me to be so hot that the thermostat in my room was turned as low as it could go. My poor hubby ended up with a head cold (I know, temperature doesn't cause colds, germs cause colds). Additionally, it had affects on my speech and I came to find out that I was very whiny, sounding as though I was intoxicated. So I suppose my point on this is that while I knew I was in shock, I have to wonder how much this particular medication altered what was left of my mental state.
• The language of the NICU was something we had to learn in crash-course fashion. I should have known when I learned that babies born before term are identified as "weekers". It shocked me, the first time I heard our unborn daughter referred to as a "24 weeker". The word weeker, flagged by spell check, has become an integral part of our "preemie world" as have many other acronyms, abbreviations and medical slang.

24 Weeks 5 Days!!!

It's official! I am the most pregnant I've ever been! On Tuesday, July 25, 2006 at 8:41 A.M., our Precious Miracle was born at 24w 5d gestation weighing 1 lb 6 oz and measuring 13 1/4" long.

The morning of her birth, I woke with horrible contractions. I didn't want to say anything for fear they would make me deliver but the feeling was unbearable and I just knew something was happening. The resident, Dr. Mori, came in to check me and when I saw her blood-covered glove emerge from underneath my sheet, knew it was time.

Hubby, set to host an important work function later in the day, immediately got on the phone informing our mothers I was headed in for a c-section. I have never seen anyone jump into gear as quickly as my medical team did that morning and before I could even really consent to what was happening, found myself in the middle of a cold OR, shivering, crying and praying. The poor nurse who held me in position for my spinal comforted me in ways she'll never know as I longed for her to promise my baby would be okay. I disconnected from my body even more than I already had, feeling nothing, completely numb on all levels.

Hubby was brought in to be by my side at some point, but my perception of time was non-existent. I distinctly remember hearing Dr. Carlson demand, "scalpel". I give him tremendous credit for delivering our micro-preemie safely, while dissecting my lower uterine segment with a low-transverse cut. It wouldn't be until many, many months later, if not over a year plus, that I realized the full impact this much-preferred cut would have on my future pregnancy. All OB/MFM/Perinatal specialists who hear that I have this type of incision are just astounded. I am grateful for Dr. C's patience and skill.

My Girl's birth was so not the way I -we - had planned. It was supposed to be captured on video, set to the words of , "This Magic Moment". Instead of being magical, it was horrific, filled with so many unknowns that until recently, have just shaken themselves out, with a few remaining to unfold.

I didn't see my daughter when she was born, didn't hear her cry either. Hubby recalls seeing her tiny body with tooth-pick like limbs being carried to a warmer bed. He chose to look away, not noticing if she was vented immediately. I just prayed and prayed.

I will admit that once while on bed rest and once during her delivery, my body felt a calm sweep over with the feeling that everything was going to be okay. That's all I wanted was a healthy little girl, unaffected by her extreme prematurity, to grow up "big, strong, happy and healthy, from head to toe, inside and out, with an intelligent mind, good social skills, able-bodied, all her senses and a kind, loving, compassionate, understanding, giving heart." From that moment on, those were the words I prayed for my little girl. I prayed them each day in the NICU over her isolette and to this very day, pray them with her every single night before she goes to bed. Only now with my additional "Mommy knowledge" have added "good processing skills and good communication skills". Baby Boy already has the same prayer prayed for him.

The Chief Neonatologist was present for my delivery and while he has become someone very dear to us, at the time of birth, challenged us on the way we spell Precious Miracle's name. It's not like she has a real different name as it's a classic name that ranked in the 120's in terms of popularity. Although we were told she was the first with her name to ever be admitted to that particular NICU. I don't like trendy... that's why Baby Boy is still nameless, although I think we're getting there.

Anyway, I remember nothing of closing me up, nothing of recovery. I do remember the whirlwind of being wheeled into the NICU on my post surgical bed to see my baby for the first time. I couldn't touch her, as her tiny body was hooked up the oscillator, a high-frequency ventilator that jiggled her tiny, little body. Her skin was transparent, her eyes covered over , her body nestled in a "snuggle nest" on a gel heating pad, covered with a plastic tent within the confines of her Giraffe Bed, her home for the next three weeks plus. Probes and sensors were stuck and attached to her body along with tubes coming from her umbilical line. She was hooked up to monitors that beeped and flashed. It was sensory overload and the voice of our nurse, explaining things as I looked with glazed-over eyes, droned out to a hum. My tiny baby girl did not deserve this start in life. It wasn't her fault, it was me who failed her. I failed my baby.

So today, at 24w 5d, more pregnant than ever before, I am grateful that my cervix is holding strong at 3.2 and that I am able to be up and about, to snuggle my not-so little-anymore once micro-preemie who makes my life complete.

The sadness is that I know what 24w 5d looks like on the outside:

My Girl 24w 5d

The happiness, for the first time, I know what 24w 5d looks like on the inside, the way a pregnancy is "supposed to be":

My Boy 24w 5d

And the gratitude I feel for the man who helped me get to this point:

Dr. George Davis helping me celebrate 24w 5d!

And just an update on Baby Boy, according to today's scan, he's measuring 1 lb 9 oz. My fluid level is good and he's growing as he should. My cervix is long and closed and for that I am extremely pleased!