More bleeding over the weekend. I woke up on Saturday in a good mood, ready to enjoy the day with Mr. M. I put in my morning progesterone suppository and lay in bed for a while. I noticed that I was feeling extra crampy but tried to ignore it. Then, right before we were ready to leave, I went to the bathroom and had dark pink on the TP. It hasn't ever been that color before.
Maybe the suppository somehow irritated my vagina or cervix or something. The spotting stopped pretty much as soon as it started. But it scared me. And it made me feel once again completely and totally helpless. There's nothing more I can do. Hell, there's nothing even the doctors can do at this point.
Then last night our pug jumped onto me from the back of the couch and I screamed in fear. He landed towards the outside of my stomach, closer to my hipbone, but that didn't stop me from smacking the sh*t out of him and screaming hysterically at him.
Crazy high-rick pregnancy woman much?
I tried to explain it to Mr. M. last night. How it feels to live in this constant terror. Every trip to the bathroom, every cramp, every moment of NOT feeling pregnant...how they weigh on you, build up on your shoulders and press on your heart and on your sanity. Am I going to bleed today? Is this going to be the day it is over? Is it already over and I just don't know it? Can I afford to hope and be joyful? Is the sac growing like it's supposed to? It's almost more than I can bear.
But I can bear it. And I WILL bear it, if that's what it takes.
We told Mr. M's family this weekend, finally. Every time we wanted to tell them we would have another bleeding scare and put it off. We finally just bit the bullet. They are all excited. I was upset because he told him dad via phone and I wasn't even in the room to share in the moment. In fact, am still upset about it. Oh, well. They are all so excited about this baby - I just hope we don't have to break their hearts.
I need a fucking vacation.
Showing posts with label Crap. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Crap. Show all posts
Monday, June 13, 2011
Monday, June 6, 2011
Threatened miscarriage.
I should have written this post several days ago, but I just couldn't bring myself to put it down in writing. Even now I am forcing myself because it needs to be said.
Last Wednesday I added two more words to my "least favorite words in the world" list:
Threatened Miscarriage.
Wednesday I was feeling good. I even blogged that day about some tough stuff and managed to keep a good attitude for the day. I was breezing along, doing my work, picking out new Scentsy from a co-worker's catalog and chatting with my co-workers.
At about 3 p.m., I went to the bathroom. And saw blood. Quite a bit. It had soaked through the thin pad I was wearing. It was dark red/brownish.
I raced from the bathroom to my office and called the doctor. She advised me to go to the ER. Unfortunately, I work 25 miles away from that specific ER so I had a bit of a drive. On the way, I called Mr. M., who also works 25 miles away, and my dear friend L, who lives right by the ER so could meet me there.
This is a new hospital, so everything was shiny and clean. The ER was practically deserted. I stood at the reception desk, shivering and filling out paperwork, for about 10 minutes before they took me back to do blood pressure and such. L showed up at about that time, astonished that I had beat her there (I may have been speeding). She stayed with me while they took me back to a room and had me change.
The ER Dr, Dr B, was kind of insane. He was young and intense and talked really fast and was very blunt. He tried an abdominal ultrasound and got nothing, so he did a trans vaginal (oh yes, a date with wandy). In order to do it he had me prop my bum up on a sheet-covered bedpan, which was definitely interesting.
I couldn't breathe as I waited for him to say something. And then...
"Well, here's the baby, and here's the heartbeat."
I couldn't believe it and just kept saying, "Really? Really?"
The heartbeat was at 143 and the baby was measuring 7 weeks 6 days, which was right on track (and actually more on track than the previous measurement).
I called Mr. M., who still hadn't made it to the hospital, right away and he couldn't believe it either. We both were expecting everything to be over.
Mr. M. showed up soon after that. Luckily, Dr. A. was on call at the hospital that day so they were able to call and speak to her. I had to wait around for a urine test to make sure I didn't have a bladder infection, then wait for my blood to be typed (they simply refused to believe that I already knew I was O negative) and another Rogam shot (which it turns out I didn't need, but oh well).
Dr. B. could give us no cause of the bleeding. He said my cervix was still closed. He simply called it a threatened miscarriage and told me to take it easy, and that there was nothing they could do.
So that's what I've been dealing with lately. I met with Dr. A. the next day and she said she was very relieved at the heartbeat and had been REALLY worried about our first heartbeat of 112. I am to continue to take it easy with no exercise, heavy lifting, strenuous chores, sex, etc.
To make matters worse, my sweet girl (of the canine variety) is having bladder surgery this morning to remove bladder stones and I am so worried about her. I couldn't even pick her up and cuddle her this morning because I can't lift her. When the vet tech came to take her from me, she tried to hide behind me and my heart just broke.
And, of course, I am gaining weight, too much weight. Not a ridiculous amount but enough to make my pants tighter than I want them. I usually maintain my weight with exercise but that is completely verboten at this time.
Sigh. I am still struggling to hold onto my hope. Each day I wake up still pregnant is another small victory. Any day that passes quickly, yes even a weekend day, is a blessing.
As Dr. A. said to me on Thursday, "Someone wants this baby to be born."
I'm hoping that Someone will continue to bless and watch over our little family each and every day.
Last Wednesday I added two more words to my "least favorite words in the world" list:
Threatened Miscarriage.
Wednesday I was feeling good. I even blogged that day about some tough stuff and managed to keep a good attitude for the day. I was breezing along, doing my work, picking out new Scentsy from a co-worker's catalog and chatting with my co-workers.
At about 3 p.m., I went to the bathroom. And saw blood. Quite a bit. It had soaked through the thin pad I was wearing. It was dark red/brownish.
I raced from the bathroom to my office and called the doctor. She advised me to go to the ER. Unfortunately, I work 25 miles away from that specific ER so I had a bit of a drive. On the way, I called Mr. M., who also works 25 miles away, and my dear friend L, who lives right by the ER so could meet me there.
This is a new hospital, so everything was shiny and clean. The ER was practically deserted. I stood at the reception desk, shivering and filling out paperwork, for about 10 minutes before they took me back to do blood pressure and such. L showed up at about that time, astonished that I had beat her there (I may have been speeding). She stayed with me while they took me back to a room and had me change.
The ER Dr, Dr B, was kind of insane. He was young and intense and talked really fast and was very blunt. He tried an abdominal ultrasound and got nothing, so he did a trans vaginal (oh yes, a date with wandy). In order to do it he had me prop my bum up on a sheet-covered bedpan, which was definitely interesting.
I couldn't breathe as I waited for him to say something. And then...
"Well, here's the baby, and here's the heartbeat."
I couldn't believe it and just kept saying, "Really? Really?"
The heartbeat was at 143 and the baby was measuring 7 weeks 6 days, which was right on track (and actually more on track than the previous measurement).
I called Mr. M., who still hadn't made it to the hospital, right away and he couldn't believe it either. We both were expecting everything to be over.
Mr. M. showed up soon after that. Luckily, Dr. A. was on call at the hospital that day so they were able to call and speak to her. I had to wait around for a urine test to make sure I didn't have a bladder infection, then wait for my blood to be typed (they simply refused to believe that I already knew I was O negative) and another Rogam shot (which it turns out I didn't need, but oh well).
Dr. B. could give us no cause of the bleeding. He said my cervix was still closed. He simply called it a threatened miscarriage and told me to take it easy, and that there was nothing they could do.
So that's what I've been dealing with lately. I met with Dr. A. the next day and she said she was very relieved at the heartbeat and had been REALLY worried about our first heartbeat of 112. I am to continue to take it easy with no exercise, heavy lifting, strenuous chores, sex, etc.
To make matters worse, my sweet girl (of the canine variety) is having bladder surgery this morning to remove bladder stones and I am so worried about her. I couldn't even pick her up and cuddle her this morning because I can't lift her. When the vet tech came to take her from me, she tried to hide behind me and my heart just broke.
And, of course, I am gaining weight, too much weight. Not a ridiculous amount but enough to make my pants tighter than I want them. I usually maintain my weight with exercise but that is completely verboten at this time.
Sigh. I am still struggling to hold onto my hope. Each day I wake up still pregnant is another small victory. Any day that passes quickly, yes even a weekend day, is a blessing.
As Dr. A. said to me on Thursday, "Someone wants this baby to be born."
I'm hoping that Someone will continue to bless and watch over our little family each and every day.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Iffy.
Iffy. My new least favorite word.
On Friday as Mr. M. and I were sitting around, getting ready to leave for the funeral, my phone rang. It was Dr. A's office. I assumed it was a nurse calling to give me the results of my progesterone blood test from Thursday.
Imagine my shock when it was Dr. A. herself.
My progesterone was low - 13. Now I know nothing about progesterone except that it is an important pregnancy hormone, so I don't know if 13 is gasp-worthy or not. I have purposefully avoided running to Dr. Google because at this point I don't want to scare myself.
Anyway. Dr. A. told me she was switching me to progesterone suppositories (which are GROSS but at least they're not shots).
Then she straight up told me that this is a very "iffy" point in my pregnancy and that I could lose the pregnancy.
I shakily passed the phone to Mr. M. so that she could tell him everything and he could answer questions. The tears were pouring down my face and semi-hysterical sobs were happening every time I took a breath.
Sheer terror.
I followed Dr. A.'s orders for the rest of the weekend to "sit around and do nothing." No lifting, no exercise, not even any cleaning. It drove me NUTS because when I am stressed ALL I want to do is clean. Mr. M. was very sweet and coddled me and took good care of me all weekend.
Yesterday I went for another progesterone blood test. They called this morning and my levels are back to normal. That's some good news, at least. I am to keep on the suppositories until Dr. A. tells me otherwise - probably until at least ten weeks.
I wish I knew what was going on in that uterus of mine. Yesterday I had myself convinced I wasn't pregnant anymore - I barely have any nausea, my boobs are only a little bit sore and I just don't FEEL that pregnant. I was convinced they were going to call with bad news today.
So for now, I'm hanging in there, and waiting. I have an appointment with a maternal fetal medicine specialist Thursday, June 9. He will do an ultrasound so at least I will know if things are still ok.
This waiting is the worst.
So for now, I'm hanging in there, trying not to lose my mind.
...and trying not to think about the word "iffy" too much.
On Friday as Mr. M. and I were sitting around, getting ready to leave for the funeral, my phone rang. It was Dr. A's office. I assumed it was a nurse calling to give me the results of my progesterone blood test from Thursday.
Imagine my shock when it was Dr. A. herself.
My progesterone was low - 13. Now I know nothing about progesterone except that it is an important pregnancy hormone, so I don't know if 13 is gasp-worthy or not. I have purposefully avoided running to Dr. Google because at this point I don't want to scare myself.
Anyway. Dr. A. told me she was switching me to progesterone suppositories (which are GROSS but at least they're not shots).
Then she straight up told me that this is a very "iffy" point in my pregnancy and that I could lose the pregnancy.
I shakily passed the phone to Mr. M. so that she could tell him everything and he could answer questions. The tears were pouring down my face and semi-hysterical sobs were happening every time I took a breath.
Sheer terror.
I followed Dr. A.'s orders for the rest of the weekend to "sit around and do nothing." No lifting, no exercise, not even any cleaning. It drove me NUTS because when I am stressed ALL I want to do is clean. Mr. M. was very sweet and coddled me and took good care of me all weekend.
Yesterday I went for another progesterone blood test. They called this morning and my levels are back to normal. That's some good news, at least. I am to keep on the suppositories until Dr. A. tells me otherwise - probably until at least ten weeks.
I wish I knew what was going on in that uterus of mine. Yesterday I had myself convinced I wasn't pregnant anymore - I barely have any nausea, my boobs are only a little bit sore and I just don't FEEL that pregnant. I was convinced they were going to call with bad news today.
So for now, I'm hanging in there, and waiting. I have an appointment with a maternal fetal medicine specialist Thursday, June 9. He will do an ultrasound so at least I will know if things are still ok.
This waiting is the worst.
So for now, I'm hanging in there, trying not to lose my mind.
...and trying not to think about the word "iffy" too much.
Monday, May 2, 2011
My first two week wait...
Can I just say that this whole 2ww (two week wait) thing SUCKS. In fact, one might go so far as to say it sucks big hairy balls. Those two or three moments of random nausea? Probably just my imagination. Sharp cramping in my abdomen? Just gas, I'm sure. A couple of twinges in the boob area? Probably just AF making her way in. Tiredness? Surely just the result of a busy week.
As this is my first cycle off of birth control, I'm not really sure when to expect Aunt Flo. Were I still on my pills, the start date would be this Thursday or thereabouts. But since I ovulated later, does that mean I will start later? It's all so confusing!
I think I am cautiously optimistic about this, our very first, natural cycle of trying to conceive. Meaning that we're having fun saying, "Wouldn't it be awesome if," and the like. But mentally, I feel prepared to deal with my very first BFN. I like to look for the bright side of things, and my bright side for a BFN during this first try is that I'll be able to drink on my New Orleans trip next week! I mean, whatever works, right?
Sorry I've been absent for a few days, but life decided to get really. Freaking. Busy. on me so I've been out of pocket. Instead of five blissful days off from work I got one day of home repair, one day of chores, one day of crazy running around, one day of (awesome) hiking and one day with my family for a belated Easter celebration. Not exactly the peaceful, relaxing break that I had imagined, but oh well!
So on Wednesday, we got to deal with THIS:
Meet the lovely hole in my bathroom floor! Oh wait, you couldn't reach the leak so now you're drilling ANOTHER hole? Awesome!
Why hello, additional gigantic hole in our hallway. So happy you could join in the fun! At least we found the leak this time, right?
And what a leak it was! *sarcasm*
THAT tiny little hole caused our WHOLE bathroom floor to heat up and forced me to take lukewarm, miserable showers and refrain from doing dishes or laundry for TWO WEEKS??!! I hate gophers. More than I hate Donald Trump. And that's saying a lot, people.
After a rough start to the day on Saturday, Mr. M. and I jumped in the car and headed to a small national park about an hour away. It was a beautiful day and it felt SO good to be out in nature with Mr. M., just hiking and talking about things. He sets a pretty brisk pace, though, so my calves are still feeling it today!
Finally, some peace and relaxation...
Sunday was belated Easter at Grandma's and MAN was it hard to stay away from the wine, Cokes and freshly brewed coffee, especially without seeming conspicuous to my family! Grandma knows, of course, but she's the only one.
And sadly, after two weeks of half-assing the whole healthy eating thing, I have put myself and my tighter pants back on the South Beach Diet. See my menu plan for the week under the "cooking and crafting" page.
Waiting to see what this week brings...Thanks for hanging in there on a long post!
As this is my first cycle off of birth control, I'm not really sure when to expect Aunt Flo. Were I still on my pills, the start date would be this Thursday or thereabouts. But since I ovulated later, does that mean I will start later? It's all so confusing!
I think I am cautiously optimistic about this, our very first, natural cycle of trying to conceive. Meaning that we're having fun saying, "Wouldn't it be awesome if," and the like. But mentally, I feel prepared to deal with my very first BFN. I like to look for the bright side of things, and my bright side for a BFN during this first try is that I'll be able to drink on my New Orleans trip next week! I mean, whatever works, right?
Sorry I've been absent for a few days, but life decided to get really. Freaking. Busy. on me so I've been out of pocket. Instead of five blissful days off from work I got one day of home repair, one day of chores, one day of crazy running around, one day of (awesome) hiking and one day with my family for a belated Easter celebration. Not exactly the peaceful, relaxing break that I had imagined, but oh well!
So on Wednesday, we got to deal with THIS:
Meet the lovely hole in my bathroom floor! Oh wait, you couldn't reach the leak so now you're drilling ANOTHER hole? Awesome!
Why hello, additional gigantic hole in our hallway. So happy you could join in the fun! At least we found the leak this time, right?
And what a leak it was! *sarcasm*
THAT tiny little hole caused our WHOLE bathroom floor to heat up and forced me to take lukewarm, miserable showers and refrain from doing dishes or laundry for TWO WEEKS??!! I hate gophers. More than I hate Donald Trump. And that's saying a lot, people.
After a rough start to the day on Saturday, Mr. M. and I jumped in the car and headed to a small national park about an hour away. It was a beautiful day and it felt SO good to be out in nature with Mr. M., just hiking and talking about things. He sets a pretty brisk pace, though, so my calves are still feeling it today!
Finally, some peace and relaxation...
Sunday was belated Easter at Grandma's and MAN was it hard to stay away from the wine, Cokes and freshly brewed coffee, especially without seeming conspicuous to my family! Grandma knows, of course, but she's the only one.
And sadly, after two weeks of half-assing the whole healthy eating thing, I have put myself and my tighter pants back on the South Beach Diet. See my menu plan for the week under the "cooking and crafting" page.
Waiting to see what this week brings...Thanks for hanging in there on a long post!
Monday, March 28, 2011
A Toilet Shower Makes for a Crappy Day
My day literally, LITERALLY started out with a toilet shower. After taking a sick day yesterday, I stumbled into work bleary-eyed and already hating the world. At 8:30 I headed to the bathroom. After finishing my "business" I stood up and the automatic toilet flusher thing went off.
And fired a huge spray of water up and out from the pipes at the top of the toilet.
My back was drenched and I was in total disbelief of what had just happened. Luckily, it was the clean water that sprayed me and not the ACTUAL toilet water, or I might still be on the floor in hysterics.
My day did not improve from then on. Working on huge projects all day and the receptionist called in sick so I had to man the front desk while also trying to get my own work done. Not a great day.
Last night I journeyed to the wonderful haven of Barnes and Noble to pick out a notebook. It took me a good twenty minutes of comparing and contrasting design, sturdiness, line width and number of pages. I am a writer and very specific about being comfortable when I write. I chose a spiral-bound so I can write with ease on both the fronts and backs of the pages. It's a brightly-colored design of owls, made of recycled materials.
I paid for the notebook (and an inspirational bookmark which I shall share later), bought myself a coffee, and wandered to the fertility books. I picked out three of them ("Infertility for Dummies" being among them) and settled in a comfy chair. I opened my notebook with a satisfying creak and proceeded to write the following entry:
"I spent an inordinate amount of time choosing the journal, searching for one that was Just Right. If has to feel right - sturdy, cheerful and supportive enough to bear the weight of a pen in distress. I believe this one will do the job. I also purchased a bookmark that says:
'BE courageous! HAVE faith! GO forward!' - Edison
It seems an appropriate sentiment as I go forward with this journey. I just hope I don't lose the stupid bookmark.
Later...
So much time choosing the bookmark, in fact, that I didn't even get a chance to glance at the three fertility books I had picked out in the store. I had to rush off to a meeting and sit with a pregnant girl on my left and a girl holding a newborn on my right. Super fun, I assure you.
It's probably a good thing I didn't read the books. I'm trying to limit those types of activities as much as I can until I actually talk to the doctor, with a few slip-ups (frantically searching the Web for any nugget of information or hope).
Right now I'm just suspended in an awful kind of stasis as I wait for the opportunity to do my blood work again, wait for the results, and wait to speak with the doctor.
Far too much waiting on an issue that will affect my life immeasureably."
The notebook will become my journal, my notebook, my haven of ideas, book titles and research. I hope it will help me to write out my feelings instead of letting them boil inside of me.
On the very first page I wrote:
"Journal Started March 1, 2011"
with a lot of blank space beneath it.
Hopefully someday, that blank space will contain the names and birthdates of my children.
And fired a huge spray of water up and out from the pipes at the top of the toilet.
My back was drenched and I was in total disbelief of what had just happened. Luckily, it was the clean water that sprayed me and not the ACTUAL toilet water, or I might still be on the floor in hysterics.
My day did not improve from then on. Working on huge projects all day and the receptionist called in sick so I had to man the front desk while also trying to get my own work done. Not a great day.
Last night I journeyed to the wonderful haven of Barnes and Noble to pick out a notebook. It took me a good twenty minutes of comparing and contrasting design, sturdiness, line width and number of pages. I am a writer and very specific about being comfortable when I write. I chose a spiral-bound so I can write with ease on both the fronts and backs of the pages. It's a brightly-colored design of owls, made of recycled materials.
I paid for the notebook (and an inspirational bookmark which I shall share later), bought myself a coffee, and wandered to the fertility books. I picked out three of them ("Infertility for Dummies" being among them) and settled in a comfy chair. I opened my notebook with a satisfying creak and proceeded to write the following entry:
"I spent an inordinate amount of time choosing the journal, searching for one that was Just Right. If has to feel right - sturdy, cheerful and supportive enough to bear the weight of a pen in distress. I believe this one will do the job. I also purchased a bookmark that says:
'BE courageous! HAVE faith! GO forward!' - Edison
It seems an appropriate sentiment as I go forward with this journey. I just hope I don't lose the stupid bookmark.
Later...
So much time choosing the bookmark, in fact, that I didn't even get a chance to glance at the three fertility books I had picked out in the store. I had to rush off to a meeting and sit with a pregnant girl on my left and a girl holding a newborn on my right. Super fun, I assure you.
It's probably a good thing I didn't read the books. I'm trying to limit those types of activities as much as I can until I actually talk to the doctor, with a few slip-ups (frantically searching the Web for any nugget of information or hope).
Right now I'm just suspended in an awful kind of stasis as I wait for the opportunity to do my blood work again, wait for the results, and wait to speak with the doctor.
Far too much waiting on an issue that will affect my life immeasureably."
The notebook will become my journal, my notebook, my haven of ideas, book titles and research. I hope it will help me to write out my feelings instead of letting them boil inside of me.
On the very first page I wrote:
"Journal Started March 1, 2011"
with a lot of blank space beneath it.
Hopefully someday, that blank space will contain the names and birthdates of my children.
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