46 Days

I haven't been writing much lately.  My due date is quickly approaching, and both my excitement and apprehension are rising with every day.  Truthfully, I am not quite sure what to write or how to write it, and I think I'm closing myself a bit as I try to cope with all of the impending changes in my life.

In 46 days we will get to meet our miracle baby.  I was told to terminate this pregnancy for medical reasons by multiple medical professionals.  My life is at risk, and the risk will be greatest during labor and delivery.  I could describe the emotions this knowledge brings with it, but these emotions are so personal and private and painful that I won't. 

I want to meet our baby.  I want to hold our baby.  I want to hear our baby cry, that sweet, beautiful sound of life.  I want....I want....I want. 

Last week something terrifying happened.  I fainted while in the shower and home alone.  I came to naked and draped across the side of the tub, belly first.  A bruise the size of my fist had already formed along with a knot just below my right knee and there was a goose egg on my left temple.  I had fallen on the baby.  Hard.  I barely remembered to put on clothes before rushing out of the house to drive myself to the hospital.  As I was driving I realized I was having contractions--strong ones.  The pain radiated from my back to wrap around to the front of my abdomen and then back.  Then it would vanish and start again. 

I panicked.  It was too soon.  I knew it was too soon.  I floored it.  A police officer pulled behind me as I turned onto the main stretch just before the hospital, lights flashing.  I ignored him completely and flew into a parking space.  He pulled in behind my car and was out of his car as quickly as I was.  He took one look at my panic-stricken face, giant tears rolling down my cheeks as I clutched my belly, and he immediately took my arm and escorted me into the ER.  I guess you get a pass on a speeding ticket when you're a frightened pregnant woman in major pain. 

I have no idea what this officer's name was, but he walked me to the check-in desk and asked the nurse to get me a wheelchair as I frantically answered her questions.  They whisked me into ER triage before I ever had a chance to thank him, but I am grateful for his help. 

The ER doctor met me in nursing triage.  There were three other patients in triage getting their vitals taken. ER triage has no privacy.  I didn't care. The put a fetal monitor on me, and checked the strip as it printed out.  I answered the doctor's questions and waited as he spoke to my OB on the telephone.  He ran to a medicine cart and returned with a needle. 

"I'm sorry, there's no time for privacy.  These aren't Braxton Hicks contractions. Drop your drawers. Your doctor says you have to have this shot."

A nurse helped me to my feet and without hesitation I mooned three complete strangers who were not medical professionals. To their credit, they averted their eyes and did not utter a word.  Then I was back in the wheelchair and a nurse was jogging me down the hall to birthing center triage.  I was admitted to the birthing center and more IV fluids were administered as they connected me to fetal monitors, a fetal ekg, and more drugs were given as they attempted to slow my contractions.

I am at high risk for preterm labor.  My team of medical professionals has said from the beginning, "Let's get you to 35 weeks. That's our goal.  Lets get you to 35 weeks." I've been hoping and praying we will make it all the way to 40 weeks.  Then I went and fell on my baby and there I was sobbing and thinking this baby was going to come too soon.  I don't now that I've ever felt that kind of fear before.

They kept asking me about my contractions.  I told them I did not give a hot damn about my contractions and I did not need to be made more comfortable.  "Just do whatever you have to to keep my baby safe, please," I said over and over again.

It was horrible.  The first hour was the worst because I was alone.  I didn't have the presence of mind to call anyone.  I just sat there in the bed, hands on my stomach, silently willing our Ninja Baby to stay put and not be born too soon.   My husband and sister-in-law both came after that first hour.

Seven hours later I was released.  They had been able to stop the contractions.  I am so grateful for that.  I'm 33 weeks as I write this, and I have 46 days to go.  I hope Ninja Baby and I will make it all the way to our due date.

But I am concerned about an emergency C-Section.  If you have had a C-Section and you were awake throughout the procedure then you did not have an emergency cesarean.  If they were able to numb you with an epidural or a spinal, then you did not have an emergency c-section.  If you were in labor for a long time and didn't make sufficient progress, and they had time to tell you that you had to have a c-section and you got to sign a consent form--you did not have an emergency c-section.

An emergency c-section occurs when they have to call a code blue or a priority one.  It means every available medical professional on the floor converges on your room and they prep you for surgery as they literally run with your bed down the hallway.  They administer heavy, fast working anesthesia medication through your IV and you are rendered unconscious.  You will not be awake through the procedure and you will not see your baby until you come to.  Your support person will likely not have time to suit up and will not be allowed in the OR. A non-emergent c-section takes about 45 minutes to an hour to complete.  An emergency c-section is rough.  It is over and done with in half an hour or less, usually less.  An emergency C is only performed in true life or death situations.  I am at risk for an emergency cesarean. Obviously I don't want one.

I am trying to be positive.  I will deliver vaginally. I will not have an emergency C.  We will be okay.  We will get through this.  I will make it 40 weeks. 

These fears do me no good.  I will focus on the positive.  I am blessed. I am having a baby, a beautiful, perfect baby. I have an amazing husband and a wonderful little family, and our family is growing.  Our family and friends love us all, and they're supportive.  My contractions stopped.  We have a second chance to make it all the way to 40 weeks.  I have more time to relish the feeling of this baby moving inside my womb.  I have more time to love and be loved. I have more time to be grateful.  I have more time to be happy. I have what I need.  I am so very thankful for these blessings.  So very thankful for 46 more days.

A POSITIVE and HAPPY Pregnancy

I am pregnant. I have a heart condition, a hostile uterus, a history of miscarriage, and sometimes both my glucose and my blood pressure drop too low.  I am completely off my heart medication because it is unsafe for my baby.  All of this combines to make a high risk patient.

High risk sounds scary.  It sounds scarier than it is, especially to my loved ones.  They hear "high risk" and  immediately think "death!"  Well no one is dying here!  Not today. Not because of this pregnancy.  Take a deep breath, people.  If your loved one is also high risk then please take a deep breath before you freak out.  High risk doesn't mean "death."  High risk really means "caution."  It means you'll have to take a few extra precautionary steps to try to make sure your baby is healthy, and you are healthy.  It's not the end of the world.

At the beginning of my pregnancy I was put on rather serious activity restrictions similar to bed rest. I couldn't get up and move around a lot because my heart beats way too fast without my medication.  My body is accustomed to the rapid heartbeat.  I've had a rapid heartbeat all my life.  My heart rate is certainly higher off my meds and it is high enough to make me uncomfortable.  But it isn't particularly dangerous to me most of the time.  However, for most of the first trimester it was dangerous for my baby.  A baby's heart doesn't develop enough to beat on its own until 5 weeks, and it doesn't stop being affected by the mother's heart rate until much later in the first trimester.  So I had to be still for several weeks so my baby's heart didn't beat too fast.

Towards the end of the first trimester my restrictions were lifted and I was told I could resume normal activity as long as I "took it easy."  I was also warned not to lift anything weighing more than 10 pounds.  To make a long story short, that precaution is in place simply because I miscarried previously.  If I lift more than 10 pounds I'm not going to die. I probably won't even go into preterm labor.  But the medical community's philosophy is better safe than sorry, and in this instance I'll err on the side of caution.

I threw up the entire first 16 weeks.  I lost 10 pounds.  I've only gained 2.5 back so far.  People are totally wigging out about that.  I was too, initially.  However, neither my amazing midwife nor my Maternal Fetal Specialist see any cause for concern just yet.  The baby is on target for growth and is just fine.  

I had my 5 month visit two days ago.  The baby's heart is beating at a perfect 140 beats per minute (completely separate from my own racing heart beat) and everything appears perfectly healthy and normal.  The only hiccup in my otherwise great exam?  I have a little bit of mild spotting.  So as a precaution against possible preterm labor I've been put back on temporary bed rest.  If all of the spotting has ceased by Monday then I can resume normal "taking it easy" activity.  The spotting has already stopped.  The continued best rest is a precaution.  People who love us are freaking out again.  There's no need to freak out.  I"m not sick. I'm pregnant.  I'm not in preterm labor--this is a precaution against preterm labor.  This happens to perfectly healthy women.  It's nothing to panic over. I'm pretty sure if I went into preterm labor I would know it. LOL!

I can see how it would be easy to get caught up in all of this high risk stuff. I can see how it would be easy to focus on all these precautions most women don't have to take and label them "negative" and "worrisome."   But please don't do that.

This is not a negative experience for myself or my husband, and we certainly don't want it to be a negative experience for anyone else.  This is a positive and happy experience for us!  This is our miracle!  We didn't think we could even get pregnant, and we certainly didn't think we could get pregnant without seeing a fertility specialist! We had even been referred to a fertility specialist to learn about IVF and had an appointment for this summer when we found out we were pregnant.  Medical science says this pregnancy shouldn't even be possible with my mushy uterus!  So this is a GOOD thing!

We are really happy.  We are not dwelling on the extra "better safe than sorry" precautions I have to take.  We're dwelling on the miracle of LIFE growing inside my womb, a LIFE that science says shouldn't even be possible.  We're dwelling on the first time I felt our baby tumble around inside my tummy.  We're dwelling on the first time Kenneth was able to feel the baby kick (2 days ago, by the way), and the joy that brought with it!

We are happy and blessed and reveling in a miracle! If you love us then you should be too.  Don't make my pregnancy and this miracle baby a negative, scary experience for yourself!  It's not negative or scary!  It's amazing and wonderful and blissful and fantastic!   So revel in the joy of this pregnancy and the new baby you'll get to meet this fall!  Focus on that because that's what really matters!