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Wednesday, August 31, 2005
The one where I make you sick gushing over the wonders of Mr. W
I had a dream last night in which Mr. W informed me he had been sleeping with a (married) friend of his parents since he was 17. In the dream, we fought because when we met neither of us had slept with anyone else and I was upset because he had lied to me. I was also upset because this was a woman who could potentially be at a baby shower. I woke up before Mr. W's alarm went off and lay in bed awake for an hour afraid to touch him because I was so hurt. And I spent the morning while he was getting ready for work telling him the dream and making him reassure me again and again that he would never cheat on me. And I know that he wouldn't. I'm just a bit...insane right now. So instead of thinking about any of that, I'm going to focus on much more fun things -- like how I met this wonderful man.
I'm a midwestern girl. Born in a town of 1500 people with no ethnic or religious diversity to speak of. (Literally, ethnic minorities in my town: 5 -- 2 girls adopted from Korea, one biracial boy, and a very sweet divorced woman and her daughter who happened to be black. Religiously? Protestant through and through with the exception of a small handful of Catholics) I went to college in my hometown at a quite prestigious private Christian college. Even though my house was about 5 blocks from campus, I lived in the dorm.
Late in the night some time in, I think, October 1997, I was writing a paper. My roommate was already asleep as it was well after midnight. I was almost finished with the paper when I tried to print a draft. Nothing happened. Lots of beeping came from both my computer's speakers and the printers. My roommate stirred and I freaked out. I went online to a telnet talker (does anyone even remember those???) and there were, thankfully, others logged in. I asked if anyone knew what to do when...and this really nice guy told me what to do. It worked, the paper printed, things were good. I think I even got an A on that paper.
The next day, I logged back in and looked at the guy's profile to find an email address. He had one listed, so I sent an email to him thanking him for his help. He responded and we began talking that way on a fairly regular basis. We sent each other forwarded jokes. We talked about the people we were dating -- at the time I was dating a British college professor at a well-known Massachusetts college (we had met while I was nannying there in the summer of 97; well over a year later, an angry crying British woman called me on the phone. How was I to know he was married? And had a genetic heart condition? And had dropped dead while walking across campus one day???) -- and we gave each other advice. Mr. W repeatedly told me there was something wrong with this man and why couldn't I see it? Sadly, I didn't see anything odd in a 32 year old Oxford graduate wanting to be with a college junior who had just turned 20. I found problems with the girls Mr. W was dating as well. Our friendship deepened and we ended up talking through various talkers and email on a daily basis.
In January 1998, after the end of J-term and before the start of the spring semester, I decided to travel to NYC with my friend D. He and I had been 'just friends' for two years. We thought it would be nice to meet this funny guy who I was emailing and talking about all the time.
Mr. W drove down from the SUNY school he was attending to Manhattan with his roommate to meet us for dinner at an amazing Italian place in the edge of the Village. They were considerably late, and I was angry. And then these two HUGE guys walked in (my big Italian/Jewish Mr. W and his Indian roommate, both standing 6'4 and weighing about 230). And my heart melted. Having never seen a picture, I knew it was him. I got up and walked across the dining room and threw my arms around Mr. W. I decided right then that I was ending things with the Brit and marrying Mr. W.
We spent every day of that weekend together before I went back to the midwest. And two weeks later, he got in his car and drove 12 hours so he could spend Valentine's Day with me. Not a day has gone by since then that we haven't spoken. Not a minute has gone by when I haven't felt completely grateful to have found someone so perfect and wonderful.
Even if we are the odd couple. He's tall and broad and very stereotypically Italian looking (unless he's with the Jewish part of his family and then he very much fits those stereotypes). I'm very short (5'almost 1") and normally thin (size 4 or 6), with very whitebread looks (I'd fit in on Leave it to Beaver). In our wedding photos, I had to have a large wooden box shoved under my dress to stand on so that I came up to his shoulder.
And even now, 7 years later, my heart still races every time he walks through the door. Being on bed rest and strict pelvic rest has forced me to mostly stop touching him, because simply touching him just isn't enough. And now, at 3 pm, I'm laying in my bed counting down until 5:30 when he walks through our door.
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Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Things I haven't told you (and it's NOT all about my cats, but a lot of it is)
There are a great many things that I haven't told you, Internet. Today I told Sherry some of this over IM, and I have decided that it's time I tell the rest of you.
I have two Siamese cats. They are a beautiful father and son duo. Upon meeting them for the first time, we didn't much care for the kitten. He was skittish. He didn't play with us and, in fact, made a great deal of effort to hide from us. However, he was the last kitten that the breeder had. We had driven several hours to look at this kitten. And he was beautiful. Perfect lines, perfect markings -- a gorgeous blue point Siamese. But he just didn't seem to like us. We blamed it on the gust of wind that blew the door shut on our entrance that had frightened him. And after meeting Wallace, the father who had been retired from his career as a CFA show cat (he only reached Champion status and wasn't showing evidence that he would Grand) we were in love -- he's shy with eveyrone else, but he was in love with us from the start. She gave him to us free (um...we paid $500 for his son who hated us).
After getting them home, we realized that Beaver, the little cat, was really the terror that he had shown himself to be. He finally, on Sept. 11, 2001 when we just couldn't take it anymore and were planning to take him back to the breeder that weekend, turned a corner. He isn't quite as loving as his daddy, but he began to blend in to our home.
After a few months, we began to notice that he would constantly chew the end of his tail. He does this to the point that his tail will literally drip saliva. We took him to the vet thinking he had some sort of skin problem and that he was dealing with the itch from that. But...no. He has a psychological disorder. It's a bit OCD, and we have to watch that it doesn't become self-mutilating (at which point he would be on kitty prozac or the like). He also chews wool sweaters. And anything that has touched my hair -- rubber bands are his favorite.
As a result, the cat ingests great quantities of my hair. Which cannot be digested and tend to come out in the litter box. Except frequently, some of the hair is still inside his body when he leaves, causing him to run around with a strand of hair hanging from his butt. And usually this has the cat poop still attached to it. Lots of fun.
All of that information is important as I tell you about my weekend. And what a weekend it was!
Friday night Scott had to work late. It was almost 11:30 pm before he got home. I had stayed up to wait for him and was asleep by midnight. Scott came to bed at 1:30. Now, I don't know what you know about Siamese...they are ACTIVE. They run a lot. They are also VERY VOCAL and have a distinctive voice -- people who call my house constantly think there is a baby crying when it's my boys talking to each other and to me. By 2 am, the cats were in rare form. They were chasing each other around the bedroom. They were yelling to each other. And when one needed a break, they would jump on my pillow -- their safe zone -- until the other would nip him and the chase was on.
I'm not sure if that is what woke me up, but it's likely. I woke up and had severe back pain. The cats were going crazy, and because I had woken during the deepest part of sleep, I was in that internal shaking phase where you feel sick all over and can't diagnose what's wrong. I went to the bathroom and thought that maybe the feeling would pass. The pain stayed and I kept feeling terrible. I started crying because immediately I thought it was the baby. I called the doctor who YELLED AT ME for not being specific enough (note the doctor on call was one from another practice covering for the ones from mine). I went to L&D and thankfully a last-year resident who is doing rounds at my peri's office, was there and took care of me. Of course it was nothing. At 4 am she sent us home.
I ate a snack and was back asleep by 4:30. Some time around 5, I was awake again. Beaver jumped on my pillowto curl up beside my head, something he loves to do (again, because of my hair and his need to smell it -- he does not do this to Mr. W). But there was a horrific smell. And it hit me. He's on my pillow with poop hanging out of his butt! And his tail is TOUCHING MY FOREHEAD! I screamed, grabbed the cat and threw him off the bed (please, no ASPCA calls -- animal poop on your pillow near your face? you'd do it too!). Mr. W woke up and I told him about the cat's problem. He had to calm the cat and coax him out of hiding to clean him up while I stripped the pillow cases off my side of the bed and went back to sleep on bare pillows.
All in all, a bad night. But the weekend wasn't over.
Saturday was great. Sunday was fine until 6:30. Scott's plating dinner and I went to pee...and saw pink...and some red...and some brown...but RED! PINK! in the cervical mucus. I called the doctor who told me to go in to L&D immediately. We get there, they examine me and nothing is wrong. It's just slight spotting caused by the exam that happened 30 hours before. It never occurred to me that could be the cause of it. Also, it was completely stopped by the time they examined me. So, at 9:30 we finally got home and ate dinner.
I have felt like a moron about this since coming home Sunday night and seriously considered not admitting to this. Until I realized how funny the whole damn situation was. I mean, who else thinks there's a problem with their baby because their cats have a fight? And seriously, how often do you follow that up with cat shit on your pillow right by your head? Aren't you jealous of my life now???
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Friday, August 26, 2005
Same cervix, different day
The words of the peri on duty today say it all. My cervix? Still overall pretty short, but exactly right on the borderline for needing cerclage. Still. Overall, the last 3 weeks on bed rest have led to NO changes. Next measurement is Friday followed by a full on appointment with the peri.
Mr. W is working really late tonight. He's hoping to be home by 9 or 9:30, but it's possible he could be as late as 10 or 11. Apparently they are rolling out some new system and this weekend they go live. Which means he has to work at least 10 am to 4 pm Saturday as well. So, here I sit. With a cat on my knee and the other continually trying to curl up on my rather large belly while my lowercase w alternates kicks and punches to my bladder, stomach and the inside of my belly button. While he's not big enough to kick hard yet, I'm not especially enjoying the bladder kicks.
I had a long chat with the lowercase this evening. I have informed him that for all the scaring this pregnancy has caused, he is grounded. For at least 6 weeks, at which point I will reconsider, but that there is a very real chance I will then extend the grounding for another 4 weeks. He is absolutely NOT allowed out of there until I've decided to lift the grounding. I think that's rather...sane of me.
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Wednesday, August 24, 2005
Not a lot to say
Tomorrow I will be 20 weeks pregnant. Friday I will have been in bed for 3 weeks. As far as updates go, that's all there is here.
I'm quite afraid...still. Maybe the fear will subside once my lowercase w can survive. I'm planning on feeling better about things at 26 weeks. In reality, I know I'll feel better after he has been born and is at home...healthy.
I'm trying to figure out when the right time to finally fill out the hospital pre-registration forms is. I've just been so afraid to do it. And I have to figure out when the right time to buy the things that we need are...you know, things like bedding for the cradle (which by the way is a non-standard size, so exactly how do I deal with that? It's 15 x 33 and not the standard [I think] 18 x 36), and a mattress for that cradle. And sheets and other furniture -- like a dresser of some sort and a changing table. I've all but decided to *not* buy him any clothes since I don't know how big he will be -- while he'll grow into things that are initially too big, is it wise to buy premie clothes for him when we don't know *how* early he'll come and if he'll even need those? But if he does, we won't have a lot of time to get them. Gah! Too many decisions to make!
I'll post again Friday or have Mr. W do so after the cervix measuring ultrasound. Ah, the fun.
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Friday, August 19, 2005
And they said it couldn't be done!
We finished up the anatomy scan today. My little boy still looks perfect. Except his ear is shaped like his daddy's. Now, Mr. W's ears are adorable...I love them. However they are HUGE in all childhood pictures of him until, roughly, his senior year of high school. He has the ears of his dad's dad. Yes, it appears my little man is inheriting his great-grandfather's ears, which family legend says were HUGE (Mr. W's grandfather died the year we started dating while still at his Florida condo for the winter; I never met him and had never seen a picture of him until Mr. W found one a little over a month ago that he had taken as a child; fuzzy and out of focus, so, you know...I'll take their word on the ears).
But that isn't what they said couldn't be done. This is. Are you ready for it?
MY CERVIX GREW BACK (some)!!!!!!! Seriously. They said in theory it was possible but it didn't really happen. After last week with it bottoming out below 2.5 (at 2.4something), I felt sure this week would be cerclage time. But the short measurement was 2.6something (I want to say 2.62)! And the long measurement was OUT OF THE 2 CM RANGE ALL TOGETHER! My long measurement was 3.02 cm! The opening of the cervix has stayed the same-ish (about 0.4 cm) and the amniotic sac is still nicely up in the uterus. There is some fluid in the cervix, which they think is a whole lot of mucus (duh -- with the amount that comes OUT of me? I could tell you there's a WHOLE lot of it in there!)
I am still on bed rest, but it looks like things are going to be good as I hit 20 weeks next week. Me. Possibly getting there. I never would have thought it possible.
And now, even though it's 2:30 and I'm going crazy with the acid reflux, I'm going to have to add more food to my belly. It isn't good for the lowercase w to eat nothing. And who knows, maybe this will be the meal that finally forces my bowels to start working again after their 2 day hiatus. Perhaps I'll chase down the leftover pizza with some MORE metamucil.
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Wednesday, August 17, 2005
A really long post that should have been written yesterday
I didn't post yesterday, however, it was a significant day.
On July 31, 1977, I was born. I was born exactly on time (if I am not mistaken, I was born on the date my mother was due) and no problems were expected. Now, living in the rural midwest, about 2 hours north of a major city and 2 hours south of another, there were no ultrasounds. My mom had no warning of my diaphragmatic hernia, hypoplastic lung, or missing kidney. She didn't know that I had a muscle development issue and that my left hand was considerably smaller than my right with a malformed thumb looking more like an oddly formed pinkie finger than a thumb.
As soon as I was born, my mother remembers a gasping mewl coming from my mouth and then no more sound. The incompletely formed diaphragm had caused all organs to shift from my abdomen to my chest cavity. She watched from the bed as I turned blue and was rushed from the room. Because she had had an epidural, time was required for it to wear off and she was not allowed to move even when I was rushed by ambulence to the children's hospital 2 hours south of where she lay.
When she was allowed to travel, she went to the hospital to be with me, leaving my four year old brother in the care of relatives -- primarily her parents, but with aunts and uncles during the times my grandparents came to see us all.
Yesterday is significant because it was the day she was finally allowed to bring me home from the hospital. After 14 days in the NICU and two days in a makeshift apartment in the hospital where she was forced to care for me and learn how to meet her own needs while doing so. My mother can remember every detail of August 16, 1977. She knows what was on the radio in the car at every milestone on the trip (for instance, music stopped playing as they reached the state fair grounds and shifted to news of Elvis' death in Memphis, followed by news and tributes to Elvis). She can tell in great detail about the first time my brother saw me that afternoon. She can tell you that even though in the photograph he looks pissed to be holding a little girl baby, he was afraid of me. I wasn't like my male cousin born healthy three months before me. I had bandages wrapping my stomach and bright blue stitches from my ribs to my hip. I was in considerable pain from the surgery and therapy. My mom had to give me pain medication on a regular schedule and perform painful physical therapy that made me cry. My brother did not want to hold me. He was so excited to see me come home and knew that I had been very sick and was still very fragile. He was afraid to play with me, afraid that he would break me and I would have to go back to the hospital. But, just as my parents had to learn to live while caring for me, they felt it was important that my brother learn to hold me, to view my condition as normal life.
And, gradually, as the therapy progressed and my left arm began to move from my right shoulder and my head no longer lay against my shoulder, as the stitches healed and were removed, as I was weaned from the pain medications, it became increasingly obvious that I had beaten the odds. I was one of two babies to survive with diaphragmatic hernia that year. But I did more than that; my one normal lung began to function within the normal range for people with both lungs; my one kidney functioned as well as the normal two; my atrial-septal defect closed and the heart murmur became very slight, eliminating the projected need for open heart surgery. I began to function as though I were "normal." And my brother became less afraid.
Perhaps the only thing that happened as a result of all of it is my parents' divorce. Even that I can't be certain was my fault. He had been abusive for years. After I was born, he began dating a 17 year old high school senior and left my mother. Several years later, he married the high school girl. While there are other indicators that they were headed for divorce, I do feel that my health was a major push. My dad simply did not have the ability to deal with that kind of responsibility. My doctors had said that my congenital issues were likely the result of some form of trauma that my mother suffered during pregnancy. The only trauma had been at the hands of my father.
The one constant in my life has always been my mother and the knowledge of her capability to care for me through anything. She has always been the one that I depend on above all else. For that, I am grateful. And I know that I will never be able to show her how truly appreciative I am for all that she did for me and all that she continues to do.
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Monday, August 15, 2005
What's a Sunday night without a trip to L&D?
I have to say, I am the world's biggest panicker. Tonight, I had to pee...a lot. Literally, I went 12 times in two hours. Three of those times were in a span of 15 minutes. On one of the trips, I noticed the tiniest bit of blood on the toilet paper. It was literally the width of a hair and maybe 1/4 - 1/3 of an inch. I knew it was nothing to be concerned about, but didn't want to risk downplaying anything.
I called the emergency number for my doctor's office. The peri on call felt that it was likely nothing and most probably a urinary tract infection. He said that I could wait and call in Monday morning or go in to the hospital tonight. I told him I would consider and call him back. Mr. W made the decision: we went to L&D.
When I got there, I had to pee in a cup and then strip for an exam. Urine came back clear and with no evidence of blood but was being sent down to the lab for further culture; I'll be contacted if there is anything. Then came the pelvic exam. Which HURTS VERY BADLY if you have been on pelvic rest since immediately following ovulation. My mucus plug was intact. My cervix was tightly closed. There was no evidence of blood anywhere in my vagina or on my cervix. Negative for amniotic fluid. So, we've now checked two areas and found no blood.
And then the doctor asked to do a rectal exam. I didn't want to, but consented. And that's where he found the culprit. I have several very small hemorrhoids, one of which was extremely red and irritated. He said that was the only area down there that appears to have any ability to have been the source of the tiny amount of blood.
So, as if that weren't enough to humiliate me...letting the entire internet know that I can't tell the difference between blood from the front and blood from the back...here's one more thing. During the "clean catch" urine sample, I managed somehow while sitting on the toilet to pee on all of the following:
- The toilet seat
- My right hand
- My left hand
- The floor
- My right foot
- My left foot
- My underwear
- My thighs
I have no idea how that happened. None. I only know that I felt like a total fool and spent a few minutes trying to clean a hospital bathroom in labor and delivery triage. Remarkably, for all that I peed on everything else, I managed to avoid peeing on my Doc Marten sandals (which are most unattractive but are beyond comfortable and I make no apologies for the ugly footwear that make my feet look like Fred Flintstone). I think that took some little bit of skill. I'm also impressed that I didn't get urine on my arms, my face, or my hair (which has now grown so long that it reaches my butt and the bed rest prevents me from getting anything done with it) -- I'm not sure how it would have gotten to any of those places, but then, I'm not sure how it got any of the places that it did. I'm just talented like that.
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Saturday, August 13, 2005
Never send a man to do a woman's job!
Thanks to the wonderful Kath, it has come to my attention that my darling Mr. W should have had further instruction in preparing yesterday's post.
I told him he should handle the post ultrasound post as I was planning to take a morning nap after the exertion of being up and about for 90 minutes. (Shut up -- I've been in bed for over a week. Going to the doctor's office is now a major test of endurance!).
He did not mention the cervical measurements. The shortest measurement came in at 2.09 (well, 2.0something) cm. However, the doctor discounted that one, because as he saw it, the sonographer made a mistake. He looked at the marker she made at the vaginal end of the cervix and said that he felt it ended...here and not there. In short, it looked to him like she stopped measuring about 3/4 of the way to the end. The longest measurement was around 2.8-2.9 cm (somewhere between actually) and the shortest accurate measurement was 2.4something, which, again, he would round to 2.5 cm. Essentially, no change since Tuesday's measurements which were only minimally changed, in his mind, from those taken on Friday of last week. He feels that the bed rest is working and that I need to continue with that for another week. My next scheduled ultrasound is the big anatomy scan (with bonus cervical measurements!) on Friday. Of course, if anything changes on my side, I'm to call immediately for a rush appointment; also, if I get all emotional and crazy again, I can also come in mid-week for another scan.
Friday is also my next appointment with the doctors -- the first blood pressure and weight gain check in a month.
I'm starting to feel confident that I can make it to next week. And for me, that's huge. Also, for some reason, I am convinced that if I can get to 19 weeks (next week) before having to have a cerclage, that it will actually work and my son will stay in until at least 26 weeks. It made me feel confident enough yesterday to actually look at bedding for the cradle and crib (used by my older brother and me in the 70s, my brother's son 3 years ago, and remarkably still meeting safety standards for width between the spindles!). I'm starting to feel a bit more positive about things.
Another cause for optimism. While my cervix is a bit open at the uterus side, it is not "true funneling." Just slightly not closed. And my peri isn't sure that it's a true or significant opening. He says that if it were, the amniotic sac, basically just a big ol' water balloon, would sag down through the opening. Mine is not doing that. It is staying neatly up in the uterus, even when the baby was kicking directly at the opening on the ultrasound! So....I'm going to just...think positively for now. Because so far, things really aren't that bad. I know that they could be, and I don't know what next week will bring, but so far, things seem stable, I am doing my part to help this out, and my boy is fine. And finally, I feel a bit of happiness!
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Friday, August 12, 2005
Baby W is a BOY!!!
Modesty no more, Baby W reveals its gender...
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Thursday, August 11, 2005
GAR!!!! STOP EATING MY POSTS!!
I just wrote a really long post. Expressing all of my fears and doubts. And then? Stupid stupid stupid blogger ate it!
Long story short: 18 weeks today.
Fears: too many to count, including things like the risks (classified as 'very rare') of cerclage (yet they are never quantified and I'm afraid to see them quantified. Some might consider 10 or even 20% to be rare; I do not. So I want to think of 'very rare' as 0.000000000001% -- and if you know otherwise? SHUT UP!), fear that cerclage won't work, fear of how cerclage is performed, fear of the pain/blood caused from it (I don't know if those are a result of it, but I can't imagine it isn't), fear that I won't need one yet, fear that I will, fear that I will deliver too prematurely, fear that I will deliver at a point where more survive than do not but having to deal extensively with the NICU and how I will be able to deal with it, fear that I'll be on bed rest throughout the rest of the pregnancy, fear that I won't be on bed rest. The list goes on.
In short, I'm still pregnant, no bad symptoms (cramps, pain, bleeding), still in bed, scared out of my mind about anything and everything.
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Tuesday, August 09, 2005
Want to hear some more about my cervix?
Whether you want to or not.... here is the skinny on my cervix today.
It's shorter.
Minimally so, but shorter. Today's measurements ranged from a maximum of 2.9 cm to a minimum somewhere between 2.4 and 2.5 cm. The perinatologist on duty today said to go home, go to bed, keep gravity off the cervix, and come back Friday morning for another scan.
If it is shorter on Friday, he will then have me go straight to the hospital for admission. I would then have a cerclage either Friday afternoon or Saturday morning. I don't know how long I would be in the hospital for; not sure if it's just a day surgery type thing or if they would keep me another day or what. That's the one thing that I didn't ask in the 30 minutes I spent talking to the doctor.
On a bit of an uplifting note, there had been some funneling at the uterine side of the cervix on Friday. It wasn't a lot and nobody was overly concerned about it. While there is still some funneling today, it appears to be less significant than it was on Friday. Yet another reason for the doctor to feel optimistic and to say, "Whatever it is that you're not doing? Keep not doing it!" In short -- stay the hell in bed and don't do anything to jeopardize things.
Finally, my child will not reveal his/her sex! Today he/she had his/her legs wide open. The probe was moved for a good view and immediately the child wiggled completely out of the frame and took up residence elsewhere in the uterus. When the sonographer followed? The baby wiggled back to it's original placement leaving us looking at the top of his/her head. Maybe Friday we'll get lucky and know something. Or next week. Or, you know, the day the child is born.
Updated images from today's Ultrasound...
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Monday, August 08, 2005
Don't you just LOVE typos in your file?
Isn't that the most fun ever? You call your perinatologist's office to ask some questions and the nurse practitioner informs you that your cervix measured 2.1 cm at your last scan, which she thinks was July 31. And you inform her that no, July 31 is your birthday and that this year it was a Sunday and therefore you were not seen in the office that day? And that, the doctor you spoke to said the cervix was 2.6, not 2.1? And then the confused NP says she'll go talk to the doctor and call you right back?
And when she does she says, "Yep, it was 2.6. The 2.1 was a typo. The doctor re-read the ultrasound pictures to be sure. So, we'll see you on Friday."
And you ask repeatedly if maybe that's too long to wait. And then you start crying. And then when you ask how short would the cervix be before it was too short because you are so afraid that the window of opportunity for cerclage will pass and be missed and you will lose your baby, the NP says, "Well, we like to have at least a couple of centimeters of cervix to work with for that." And then? Then she says, "But we can't do a cerclage until 14 weeks at the very earliest. * long pause * How far are you now?" So you tell her that you're 17 1/2 weeks and will reach 18 weeks on Thursday. And then she says, "Oh. So then we could do a cerclage some time in the next week or so if we needed to. Well. We'll see you on Friday morning then." And then you're so dumbfounded that you very meekly say, "OK," and hang up.
Don't you just love that?
(As an update, I did call back and said that I felt the NP was equally confused because of a typo in my file and that I did not feel that any of my questions had been answered and could one of the doctor's please return my call. The head of maternal-fetal medicine is on today and as soon as she is out of labor and delivery is going to return my call. I have made a list of questions that I want answers to and will hopefully feel a bit better after I speak with her.)
(ACTUAL UPDATE: I spoke to the doctor. I fell apart while asking my questions, crying like a fool. She scheduled an ultrasound for 2:00 p.m. Tuesday afternoon to help reassure me. She also told me that the 2.6 is the shortest measurement from Friday and that it had ranged all the way up to 3.4 cm. Her biggest concern would be that if it continued to shorten and if that is the case, we'll be talking cerclage by the end of the week. She also says that she feels fairly confident that I am going to carry to a delivery when a child can actually survive! I am feeling much better about this!)
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Sunday, August 07, 2005
A quick message of insanity
Things are no different today than they have been. However, I am rapidly losing my mind. I have done nothing all weekend long. I have been lying in my bed, on the couch, or on the spare bed in the office to be nearer Mr. W.
I'm crying and praying fervently with each trip to the bathroom. I'm panicking over the normal pulls and pangs that I have felt along the way as my baby and my uterus grow. I don't think I can wait until Friday to know something more. Unless I have a miraculous surge of calmness wash over me between now and tomorrow morning, it is highly likely that I will be placing a rather irrational call the the peri's office.
I can't stop with the google. I've looked at premature infant survival rates...and it just seems so far away before our chances stop being 0%...even further until they hit that 50/50 chance...and an eternity until they are anywhere close to "good." I am so afraid that I won't get there.
The doubt and fear have taken over my every waking moment...and most of my sleeping ones as well. I'm incapable of coherent thoughts not related to my baby, my uterus and my cervix. I am seriously falling apart here. Hopefully, the doctors will be able to work me in sooner than Friday for both an ultrasound and an appointment with the peri. I need more information. I need to know what my chances of making it through this are. I'm going to have to push away the fear and actually deal with cold, hard numbers.
Of course...the stupid mullerian anomalies group on Yahoo has me scared as well. I love that group...the information, it is so thrilling! Yet there are too many women saying, "My peri is going to do a cerclage for me at 12 weeks as a preventative measure regardless of cervical length," and, "My doctor says that anything below 3 cm and a cerclage is an immediate necessity along with strict bed rest for the duration." I don't want to second guess my doctors as they are the only real hope that I have...but I'm having such a hard time imagining this going well now. And I so desperately need it to go well.
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Friday, August 05, 2005
The news it is scary
Today's ultrasound went well. Still no clue as to the baby's sex; my child has a stubborn streak. But we found the second kidney today! It was just...there! The baby's heartbeat has remained steady and strong, the baby wiggled non-stop throughout the ultrasound (but chose to roll over so that when it was videotaped, all we got were shots from the back).
Now for the scary part. Since we started the weekly ultrasounds, my cervix has measured anywhere between 3.5 and 3.9 cm. The changes in measurements are based on the angle from which the measurement was taken. There was absolutely no change from the first measurement on July 22 to the next one on July 29. (As an aside, I had a measurement done at my doctor's office downstate before moving here at 9.5 weeks that was 3.95 cm)
Today, there was a change. My cervix now measures 2.6 cm. The perinatologist on duty at the office today (head of maternal-fetal medicine at the local hospital and director of the practice I go to) said that she feels things are still OK. She said that measurements from 2.0 to 2.5 cm she puts patients on strict bed rest. She also said that at 2.1 cm, she would very definitely reccomend cerclage. Yet she doesn't think that I need that yet. She wants to wait to see next week's measurement. She was encouraged because I have felt no pain, had no bleeding and no cramping.
I did a quick refresher in Google-ology as I searched for information about cerclage. Of course, what I found is that cerclage is not a guarantor that things will be alright. There is no hard evidence that it prevents pre-term labor. None at all. There is also no evidence to suggest that it doesn't do just that. In short? Nobody knows. And it's scary as all hell.
I broke down and cried for about 15 minutes when I got home before I could pull myself together. I am now determined to stay in bed for at least the next week (or, you know, the rest of this pregnancy) and stay as hydrated as is possible.
I placed a call to my downstate doctor's office to find out what their policy on cerclage is and if they think that my current doctor should be more aggressive right now. I only know that at 17 weeks, I have to stay pregnant a minimum of another 9 weeks, having looked up survival rates at 26 weeks. Not ideal, but that's my first mini-goal...make it another 9 weeks (Oct. 6). After that, my goal will be to go another 2 weeks to hit 28 weeks (Oct. 20). The final goal that I have is anther two weeks after that (Nov. 3). I just don't know if I can do it. I'm so, so terrified.
As much as I wanted to not bond yet, to not be attached so that I wouldn't feel the pain and devastation...I bonded. I love this child whole-heartedly. I do not think that I can manage through another very bad thing. I just can't. I'm too broken for that. (And yet, even as I type, this little one is wiggling within me, reminding me once again of his/her presence and I can't help but fall deeper in love...while I try my hardest not to...just in case).
Because I am going to be in bed for the foreseeable future, please, don't expect much in the way of posting right now. I promise to post if there is a change of any kind. And I will post after each doctor's visit. But in the meantime, I don't have a lot to say. I'm scared. I'm becoming somewhat numb. I only hope that my doctors are being aggressive enough and not waiting too long to do something that could save my baby's life. As it stands, I just don't know.
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Wednesday, August 03, 2005
Odd thoughts...
In another hour and a half, I will hit 17 weeks. I can honestly say that I had never expected to reach this point. Of course, having made it this far...I still cannot find peace.
I spent the day yesterday in a state of extreme anxiety. I cried almost every time I had to go to the bathroom, fearing that I would find it all over. Even pulling out the doppler and hearing a steady heartbeat...feeling the baby move within me...feeling exactly as I have for so long... None of that mattered. I could not rest easy.
On July 21, the hospital mailed me all of my pre-registration forms and the birth certificate worksheets to fill out. I thought it was way too early when they sent them and I couldn't bring myself to do anything with them. In an attempt to feel better yesterday, I tried to fill them out. I managed to make it through 1.5 pages before I just couldn't.
I suppose in some way, I feel that by admitting and accepting that things are going according to plan that I am tempting fate. I've always believed in a kind and loving God. Yet for some reason, I can't stop myself from feeling that He is only going to take this child from me, too. I've attempted not to fall in love with this baby. I decided that at birth, I would instantly love the child, so I don't need to bond so deeply now only to have it ripped from me. Except that isn't possible. I've had so many ultrasounds. I see this child every Friday at 8:30 a.m. I listen to this baby at least once each day.
It's all just too much. I want to be happy. I really do. I just don't know how. And I'm terrified that if I allow myself to feel something other than fear and terror that...well...it will all just leave me devastated. And if that happens, I just don't think I can rebuild again.
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