beanski

no one is home

It feels a bit like the end of a vacation, like I've gone through the cycle of packing, traveling, getting settled in to our  vacation lodging, have enjoyed five or six days of just being on vacation and am now a day or two away from packing it all up and going home. The feeling at the end of vacation is always foreign to me, almost like I can't enjoy the last few days because I know that it is coming to an end and that I'll have to say goodbye and head home and the vacation lodging won't be mine anymore, it will be someone else's. And we might as well get it over with and go because it's inevitable and there is no amount of pleading for more time that is going to stop it.

That's how I feel at home now. I feel like it isn't ours anymore. I feel like we don't belong there. The house that used to be our home, the one place where I felt safe and calm, is alien to me. Everything is packed away in boxes, waiting for the movers to show up to transport them to the unknown. The pictures of my kids have been stripped from the walls and the nails sit there waiting to proudly hold up someone else's kids. The paint is the same, the rugs are still there. But we are gone. There is no home for this family anymore.

I don't bother buying groceries or weeding the garden because the fridge and the garden aren't mine anymore. Instead, I just sit and wait. I sit and wait and fret about what is to come. How will Renee handle this? What is Cameron going to think? What if we realize that we made a huge mistake and have finanically put ourselves in to a position where there isn't a damn thing we can do about it other than live miserably in a house we don't like?

At this point I just want it to be over. For a long time I wanted to stop it, have pleaded with my husband to find a way for us to get out of this, and have finally accepted that I have no other choice other than to accept his explanation that we must have made this decision for a reason. I am trying to believe him that these feelings are normal, that they are rooted in fear because it is easier to understand the known than the unknown. I'm trying to believe him that at some point in the not to distant future I will feel content instead of how I feel today, like my skin is crawling, like I can't take a deep breath.

I just hope he's right.

what if

I had an appointment today with my new OB to talk about genetic screening and to follow-up to make sure things are progressing OK. She did a quick ultrasound just looking for a heartbeat and it is still kicking it in there. We were supposed to go to Pittsburgh this weekend for soon-to-be Aunt Brooke's bridal shower but Ski and I didn't think we could live with ourselves if we went and something happened to the baby so we are staying home. I just don't want to be sitting around saying "WHAT IF?" If I take it easy and do what I'm told and I miscarry then at least I know that I did everything I could.

Speaking of "WHAT IF?"...my doctor gave me the run down on what to expect for this pregnancy. I'm sort of bummed out that it wasn't the same speech I got last time. There was a lot more "high risk" and "preterm labor" talked about. She said, "We need to get you to 12 weeks and then you can relax a bit until 28 weeks when we'll start worrying about preterm labor." Sweet. Then she said that she would recommend that I get progesterone shots once a week from 18 weeks until 37 weeks (if I make it that long this time). I don't know how I feel about that. It is so new and there isn't much information out there about long-term effects on the fetus. WHAT IF I don't do it and end up going in to preterm labor again and it doesn't end up as good as it did with Renee? Then again, WHAT IF I do it and this baby ends up with some weird defect later in life? The eternal WHAT IFs of pregnancy. WHAT IF I do genetic screening? WHAT IF I don't? WHAT IF the baby is born with three eyes?

I'm not quite ready to say "this is my last pregnancy" but I get closer and closer every day. I always wanted 3 kids but really, can I go through this again? I can handle the barfing and the mood swings but it just seems like it has been one problem after another with both pregnancies. I just don't think my stupid body likes being pregnant. It must miss the wine.

threatened

The ultrasound on Thursday was good...as good as I was hoping for. The baby still has a heartbeat (in the 150s this time!) and is growing on schedule. It is still measuring 4-5 days behind but at least it has been consistent. The blood pooling in my uterus is still there though and I was really hoping they were going to say Everthing looks perfect. Just go about your business and plan on having a baby in November. They didn't say that. Instead they sent me for blood work to test my progesterone levels with a diagnosis of Threatened on the order form. Seeing Threatened in writing didn't really do much to ease the pit that has been sitting in the bottom of my stomach for two weeks making it hard to swallow. Then the April Blizzard of 2008 hit and I couldn't get the results until this morning. They said my level was 15.2 and that they wanted it to be above 12. If it wasn't above 12 they would start a progesterone supplement. I asked what is normal and she said 15-32. I am a mere 0.2 into the normal level which has sort of sent me back in panic mode. Not that I ever left panic mode but you know there were moments this weekend when I was actually complaining about the stomach-ickiness rather than just being damn thankful to be having it. I have yet another ultrasound tomorrow followed by more blood work so perhaps at some point I can go back to the life where I only have to go sit in the waiting room at the OB office for 2 hours once a month as opposed to 2 hours twice a week.

In addition this week I am contemplating switching OBs. Not really because I don't like my old one but because I sort of like the one that did my c-section better. I saw the one that did my c-section last week and she remembered me and Ski, that we had had a baby relatively recently, she remembered my septum without even looking at my chart. I don't think my regular doctor had any clue who we were when we were there last week. Is it weird to switch doctors? I think the old Doctor has a really good bedside manner and she always makes me feel like everything is NO BIG DEAL but the new doctor seems more proactive and cautious. I can't decide which is better. And I can't ask anyone for advice because let's face it, no one even knows that I'm pregnant. If I was all like Do you think I should switch OBs? they just might get suspicious.

t minus 50 minutes

In 50 minutes we'll find out the fate of this baby. I am terrified. Almost every post for this pregnancy has been filed under the 'fears' category. Here is to hoping that by next week I'm filing them under 'pregnancy rocks.'

the weekend from hell

This post is the epitome of why I started a separate blog for this pregnancy. There is probably more information in here than the average person might care to know about. Feel free to exit the premises at anytime. Seriously, it is going to get nasty in here.

Since I got knocked up this time I have wished repeatedly that I was better about documenting things with my pregnancy with Renee. Like, did I get morning sickness in week 7 or week 8? Did I want to murder Ski for the first time before I found out I was pregnant or was it well in to the torture? I am wondering these things in order to glimmer some shred of hope that this pregnancy is viable and will be successful. I wished for the first two weeks that I would barf and was certain that something was wrong because I wasn't barfing. And then I barfed. Now I wish I wouldn't barf anymore.

On to the week from hell. I'll pick up where I left off from last week's post. I thought the spotting had stopped until Thursday at around 1PM when I went to the bathroom and saw BRIGHT RED blood. Not gushing blood but enough to make me leave work directly to go home to lay on the couch and cry. Ski came home. I called the doctor. They scheduled an ultrasound for the next day. Seriously I had to wait almost an ENTIRE day. I got up on Friday and called in sick to work and then Ski and I headed to the clinic. At this point I had no hope at all. I was awake most of the night before being incredibly sad...stupid things like "Would I name the blog the next time 'BabySki2' or 'BabySki3'?" It seemed like an injustice to just go on with life pretending like it never happened but I would have to explain what had happened to the world if I just skipped straight to BabySki3 only having one kid. And there were reasons for not telling anyone until 12 weeks in the first place. I don't want to explain to the world that my incompetent body had a miscarriage. It was NOT FUN and I was preparing for the worst. I was trying to reason with my depressed brain by assuring myself that I couldn't fall apart because Renee needed me. I tried to be thankful that I had Renee first before having a miscarriage because picking myself up off the ground seemed easier knowing that my body had managed to have one healthy baby...there had to be hope for another SOMEDAY, right? And I could always look at her to feel happy and grateful and lucky. There are plenty of people that don't even get one miracle and I already had mine. We'll have to adopt. Anyways, I didn't even look at the screen when she started my ultrasound. I didn't want to know. First she asked about complications with my first pregnancy and I told her about my septum and she was like "yeah, I see that" and I wanted to punch her face in because no one saw the damn thing the first time around. Then she said, POSITIVE FETAL HEARTBEAT (in a very shocked manner which totally PISSES ME OFF now). I started sobbing. They did some other measuring, documented where the blood was coming from, blah, blah, blah...all I cared about was that it's little heart was still beating. Then we headed down to see my OB. She didn't have an explanation other than that it might implanation bleeding that never got expelled and we would just have to take it easy and wait and see. There was nothing we could do except wait and see. I scheduled another ultrasound for Thursday, April 10th. We breathed a sigh of relief because as Ski put it "We are still in it." We ate cheeseburgers and went out for ice cream (we are TOTAL emotional eaters). When we got home from the DQ I was walking up the stairs when I felt something scary. I went to the bathroom. The whole toilet was full of blood. There was more than one clot. I made Ski look at it and he told me to get in the car and that we were going to the ER. It was like 30 minutes from Renee's bedtime so my wheels were turning trying to figure out how I could not go to the ER. I called the on-call number for my clinic and as luck would have it my doctor was on-call. She told me not to panic and assured me that it could be that my body was finally getting rid of the blood that was pooling there in the bottom of my uterus. She told me that if it didn't slow down in the next two hours or if I started having heavy cramping to go in right away. It slowed down and I didn't have any cramping so I went to bed. Or at least I laid down in our bed...sleep was not happening. Saturday I was pretty crampy but not much blood so we just took it easy. Sunday and Monday have been blood and cramping free. I'm trying to tell myself this is a good thing but there is at least 50% of me that is convinced that I had a miscarriage on Friday night. And I won't know if I did or not until Thursday. So now we wait...

spot and scan

Monday night I started spotting. Nothing major but enough for me to FREAK OUT and become thoroghly convinced that I was having a miscarriage. I never spotted when I was pregnant with Renee and an irrationally pregnant mind works in a very logical manner. I didn't spot with Renee and I didn't have a miscarriage but I am spotting with this baby THEREFORE I am having a miscarriage. End of proof. I obsessively checked my drawers for an entire night and day and spent a lot of time crying. Two weeks and I'm totally attached to this baby. I finally had enough freaking out and called the doctor. They said they wanted to see me as soon as possible. I cried while sitting in the waiting room. I cried when I tried to explain to the nurse practioner how I'm trying to wean Renee but that she isn't doing very good at it and BOTH of my kids are important to me. My hands were shaking. I felt so sad that I was scared to have the ultrasound because when I went in with Renee I was so excited. The scan showed a VERY FAINTLY beating heart. The yolk sac looked good and was measuring right on and the fetal pole was measuring slightly small which doesn't really concern me because I know I ovulate late and I'm probably not really 6w2d like they said but more like 5w6d and at this stage a HELLUVA a lot of growing goes on in three little days. I feel at least hopeful that things are going to be OK. The little thing didn't implant on my septum (it must be a super genius just like it's big sister) and the heart beating (although faint) gave me hope. I'm still terrified but I'm hopeful. I have to go back on Monday for another scan and another one the following Monday. They are playing this pregnancy high risk and I am thankful that they are taking it seriously.

just plain scared

I have been walking around in a fog for a week now. Now that I've adjusted to the shock of finding out I'm pregnant again, I am getting attached to the idea of having this baby. Which means I am now living in fear. I'm terrified because every study I read regarding uterine septums mentions miscarriage, pre-term labor and brain damage. Every. single. one. Today I feel like I should get a second opinion about everything. The doctor that did my c-section mentioned 'high-risk pregnancy' and 'never carrying a baby to full-term' but then I talked to my doctor about it and she was totally nonchalant about it. She said plenty of women have plenty of normal babies with septums and that we don't worry about them unless there are multiple miscarriages. She was saying what I wanted to hear at the time so I just believed her. But now I feel guilty. Like I should have asked more questions and demanded more answers. Like sometime before I brought a bunch of cells that have the potential of becoming a whole new being in to existence. Because now there is nothing I can do but to wait and see. I'm not any good at waiting and seeing. I have an appointment on April 14th that seems like an eternity away. I will feel so much better after I see the heartbeat and they can tell me the little bugger implanted on my uterus and not on the stupid abnormality that runs through it.

to wean or not to wean

I spent most of yesterday crying because the nurse practitioner at my clinic was really cold regarding this pregnancy and the questions and concerns I have. I called to ask a few questions regarding breastfeeding while pregnant and about my half of a uterus. First, the receptionist was rude. She told me I couldn't talk to anyone until I had the pregnancy confirmed. So I went in and peed on their magical stick and SURPRISE, I'm pregnant. Yeah, I think I mentioned that. She went through her canned speech about how they want to see me at eight or nine weeks pretty much like she hadn't heard a word I said when I called initially. I then asked (again) to speak to a doctor about nursing while pregnant and about the septum in my uterus because the doctor that did my c-section told me that my future pregnancies would be high risk. Apparently the bimbo receptionist didn't care. Anyways, the nurse practitioner called me back, basically said 'go ahead and wean her' and goodbye. She didn't give a rip about my concerns. I don't think Renee is ready to be weaned. I don't think Renee is even CLOSE to being ready to be weaned. I don't think her mom is ready to wean her yet either. So I did some internet research. The internet says that it is OK to nurse while pregnant. I was sort of satisfied with that (La Leche was my source and I trust them for the most part) and figured I'd talk to my doctor in a few weeks when I go in for my first OB appointment. Then I laid awake all night last night worrying that I am now hurting both of my kids at the same time. I don't know what to do. This morning I called the hospital where I had Renee and asked to speak to one of their lactation consultants. She laughed and said 'you absolutely don't need to wean her.' Especially if she's growing and gaining weight and eating solids. I'm really irritated that my clinic just throws out opinions without checking with people who know more about it than they do. It seems OK to trust the La Leche League along with the lactation consultant whose job it is to work with breastfeeding mothers over some stupid nurse practitioner who really just wants to get me off the phone as soon as possible so she can go home, right?

I hope I don't regret this. I'm planning on GRADUALLY weaning Renee. My goal is to be done nursing her when she is one year. I will be about 16 weeks pregnant then. It's too bad I'm not telling anyone about this baby. The only people I can ask for advice are strangers.

mixed emotions

I have totally mixed emotions. On one hand, after Renee was born and I found out about my not-so-perfect uterus I was so depressed that I might never have another baby that the prospect of getting to have another one is over-the-top exciting to me. I never wanted Renee to be an only child and the whole trying-to-get-pregnant thing was not ANY fun the first time around. I'm a control freak and it was too much stress for me. I'm so thankful that we don't have to got through that again. I know deep down, somewhere in my subconscious, I was hoping for this to happen. I've gone in to get a prescription for birth control twice. Actually filled the prescription once. Didn't take a single pill either time. I couldn't do it. I would try to pump myself up and when it came down to it, I just couldn't bring myself to prevent something that I knew I wanted SO BAD. This is the good part. This baby is wanted. In every conceivable sense of the word want. Did I want to have him/her to show up a mere seventeen months after my first miracle? Ummm, not quite. I keep thinking if this one comes a month early like Renee did it is only sixteen months. Whoa dude. What was I thinking? My baby can't even crawl. She doesn't have teeth. She's not even nine months old and here I am starting all over again. I feel a lot of guilt like I'm robbing Renee of her first couple of years of my undivided attention. I'm terrified that she is going to be too little to understand us bringing a new baby into our house and I fear that she will feel abandoned. I feel sad that I'm going to be fat and pregnant and probably miserable when she starts walking and talking and doing all of the fun stuff that toddlers do. I'm terrified that I'm going to be having this baby at a bad stage for Renee. I'm still nursing her and am scared for both of us that my milk supply is going to go down so far that I won't be able to do it anymore. I'm worried about what weaning her might do to her emotionally because she's too little to understand. I'm worried that not weaning her will cause a miscarriage. I'm in a wedding in July and have no idea if the dress I already bought will fit. All of my maternity clothes are for summer. Who wants to be on maternity leave in December, January and February? NOT ME. Who wants to have a baby pretty much on Thanksgiving? Aren't the holidays stressful enough? I feel elated, sad and terrified all at the same time.