Most people who read this blog know that I developed Intrahepatic Cholestasis of Pregnancy (ICP or sometimes just called CP) near the end of my last pregnancy. That diagnosis, along with the bleeding I experienced throughout each trimester, effectively made it my last pregnancy as my husband & I are not willing to experience another roller coaster ride of a pregnancy. Besides, we're old and it was time to stop cheering for Team Babyworks.
I mention ICP because early delivery is the standard practice with those pregnancies. That is, delivery no later than 38-weeks. The reason is that fetal outcomes are not as favorable with longer gestation. That's a very delicate way of saying the one thing that strikes fear in the heart of every single pregnant mother: longer gestation in an ICP pregnancy is linked to increased chance of stillbirth.
There is a broad swing in what is considered a full-term pregnancy - anything between 38- and 42-weeks. Generally speaking, baby is better off baking in your uterine oven as long as possible. That means that delivery (via induction or, as is a fairly common outcome for induction, a c-section) that is scheduled just for the sake of not being pregnant anymore, to choose your baby's birthday, or because your OB is going on vacation near your actual estimated due date are generally agreed upon to not be good reasons to evict your fetal stowaway.
Regardless of the reasons why your baby is born early, you might second guess your decision to deliver so soon. You may well do this if your baby is perfectly healthy and it's nearly guaranteed that you will if your baby does not fit your mental picture of healthy perfection. Mother's Guilt is strong, whether it's warranted or not. Frankly, it seems to me that the ones who have the least to feel guilty about are the ones who agonize the worst.
Witnessing a loved one or a fellow mother beat herself up emotionally over decisions that can't be undone is hard. Well-meaning people may say things like, "Well, your baby is healthy and that's all that matters." Or, "Baby was born and his here now and that's all that matters."
These lines, and those like them, have always bothered me. I don't think most people are trying to be hurtful when they say things like this, but it is hurtful. These statements are dismissive and demeaning. These statements completely invalidate the mother's feelings. It's like saying that not only is she wrong for feeling uneasy about her decisions, but it's also saying she's wrong for having the feelings in the first place because having the baby here now is all that matters.
I struggled with years to make peace with my first son's c-section. My feelings of inadequacy and outright maternal fraud were surprising to me, but they were very real and very painful. My baby was healthy and I still ached over making the wrong choice. Was it the wrong choice? I don't know, but it's the one I made. I can't undo it. It took years, but I no longer feel an intense longing when I think of his birth. I made the best decision I could with the information I had. Would I make the same choice today? It doesn't matter, but I would.
Hearing nearly everyone I know and love tell me that, "You're okay and he's okay so it all worked out and that's all that matters," did not help me. Being told that I'm just as much a mother as any other mother didn't help. Listening to one c-section story after another didn't make mine feel any more "normal." Time was probably the greatest source of healing. Well, that's not entirely true. It was time and having an experience that made my body feel even more broken. Having my last baby (high-risk pregnancy, advanced maternal age, early delivery and all), restored me in more ways than I could have possibly imagined.
Healthy babies are the ultimate goal, but they are not all that matters. Healthy mother matters too. . .physically, emotionally, and mentally. If she's wounded in any of those areas, it matters - and don't try to tell her otherwise.
Have you struggled to make peace with your birthing experience? What helped? What didn't? Please share in the comments if you'd like and accept a big ol' virtual hug from me. I know it's hard and I'm sorry that you're struggling. {{{hug}}}
Showing posts with label pregnancy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pregnancy. Show all posts
Thursday, May 2, 2013
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Cholestasis of Pregnancy
In a final F-You to me, my pregnancy ended in a spectacularly bizarre fashion. It wasn't bad enough that I was high risk from the start. It wasn't challenging enough that I BLED or spotted through the first trimester and I had spotting off & on throughout the entire pregnancy. It wasn't enough of a bummer that my pregnancy with my first son was textbook perfect and this one, likely my last, was one problem after another. No, I ended up with a pretty serious problem right at the end.
I suddenly began experiencing severe itching around 36-weeks. I casually mentioned it on Facebook and a friend cautioned that symptom could indicate liver problems and suggested that I call my doctor right away. I initially dismissed the idea because itching doesn't seem all that dangerous and I hate bugging my doctor since I'm sure that I'm already his most annoying patient. I ultimately decided to mention it to him because it's his job to deal with me, however annoying I may be, and the thought of having a liver problem scares the heck out of me. You know, because you need a functioning liver in order to do things like live.
His response was that itching is most likely caused by dry skin, but he was concerned that it was my hands & feet that were so itchy. Specifically, my palms & soles. Now, when I say that my palms & soles were itchy, I don't mean that I randomly scratched every now and then. The itching intensified at night and I would be awake and scratching at myself for hours every night. I'd use a rough washcloth and rub it against my hands & feet for hours on end. A few times I scratched myself with my wig brush because the stiff bristles felt good even if they made my skin red and sore. Nothing gave me any relief other than eventually passing out from exhaustion. . .and, even then, I'd wake up scratching.
The doctor mentioned that itchy hands and feet could be a symptom of cholestasis of pregnancy (CP or ICP) and he wanted me to go to the lab right away to get blood drawn. My liver function, as indicated by enzyme levels, and my bile acid levels were what he specifically wanted to see. I went to the lab late that day and the results indicated that a specific enzyme was four times over the upper normal level. I saw that number and was like, "Oh sh*t!" Seriously, liver problems are something that I really fear and that number scared me.
Based on that test result alone, my doctor decided to proceed as though he had all data and had me begin to take a handful of medicines to manage the symptoms of ICP. He gave me scripts for Actigall, Atarax, and hydrocortisone lotion. So much for being the hippie who doesn't like to take medications while pregnant. Now I was forced to do so for my own health and sanity and for the health of my as-yet unborn baby.
Why did he not have all the data to make a firm diagnosis? There are only a handful of labs in the country that run bile acid tests. Why? I have no freaking idea other than ICP is a fairly rare complication of pregnancy. So, naturally, that's exactly what I ended up diagnosed with once those bile acids came back. Oh sh*t indeed!
Of course, I spent plenty of quality time with Dr. Google and what I read only freaked me out all the more. Did you know that mothers with ICP have a significantly higher chance of having a stillbirth later in pregnancy? As in, the last couple of weeks of pregnancy. Having had 36-weeks of emotional turmoil, I wasn't expecting to face the possibility that I may not be able to hold this baby and take him home.
My c-section was initially scheduled for 39w5d and my doctor bumped me up to 38-weeks on the nose along with ordering twice-weekly NST visits at the hospital and telling me to go to Labor & Delivery (L&D) if I notice it takes more than one hour to feel ten fetal movements instead of the standard two hours. By the way, non-stress test (NST) is a total misnomer because you're only there if there is a potential problem so I'd say all moms to be are stressed in that room.
My itching never improved, even with meds, but my liver enzymes did drop down some and that was encouraging. The problem was, as one would expect, the very real risk of stillbirth. It's standard protocol to deliver prior to 38-weeks because the risk of stillbirth significantly increases at the end of pregnancy.
I became so fearful for my baby that I'd try to force fetal movement throughout the day so I could have some assurance that he was still living. One night I fell asleep and woke with a start when I realized that I hadn't felt any movement in the last hour. Sure, he may have been sleeping. . .but he may have been dead.
That's the emotional cruelty of ICP. Your bile acids can spike to dangerous levels with absolutely zero warning. Those bile acids get high enough and your baby dies. You have no idea that it's about to happen or even that it's happening. You just show up to your NST and the RN isn't able to find a heartbeat or you can't seem to get the baby to move during your fetal kick counts and you go to L&D only to discover that it's not a living baby you'll be delivering.
So I spent my time bargaining and pleading with God for my baby. I'm holding my 6-week old baby in my lap as I type this and just remembering those fears makes me feel sick and brings tears to my eyes. How I worried that I would lose this baby! I became convinced that this baby was going to die; his little heart would stop and my heart would break.
I had a meltdown early one morning and cried to my husband that I couldn't take these fears any longer. I was 37w3d and I couldn't understand why we were waiting for me to reach 38-weeks other than to increase the chances that the baby wouldn't need to spend any time in the NICU. I said the thing that was rattling around in my brain: I'd rather have a baby in the NICU than a baby in a box in the cemetery.
I showed up to my NST that morning and the RN asked how I was that day and I burst into tears. Well, I didn't just cry. I was pretty hysterical. I told her that I couldn't take losing another baby, not this close to the end, not now, not this baby. I couldn't sleep, couldn't concentrate, couldn't think of anything else besides the fear of losing my baby. She simply said, "It's time."
She phoned my doctor, spoke with the perinatologist and the hospital, and the OB currently on duty at the hospital. All agreed that I could deliver that day. And that's exactly what happened.
The good news is that my baby was perfectly healthy and didn't even spend one minute in the NICU, my liver is functioning perfectly well now, this harrowing experience is over and I have a beautiful baby in my arms. The bad news is that I'd have a significantly higher chance of developing ICP in a subsequent pregnancy (60 to 90% chance, depending on the source) and that it tends to manifest earlier and more severe in subsequent pregnancies. My husband was already not a fan of hearing my talk about wanting a third baby and this bit of knowledge slammed the door on us having a third. He flatly refuses to consider a third baby and a part of me understands. . .but another part of me still wants a third baby.
Why write this down? I don't know. I guess it's a good reminder that even the weirdest symptoms could indicate serious problems. I shudder to consider what could have happened had I not mentioned this crazy itching. I think it's also a good thing to explain just how emotionally difficult it is to get an ICP diagnosis. It's not just itching and whining. The itching was horrible, but the fear of losing your baby right at the end of pregnancy is so much worse.
I still would like to write down something about my delivery and my recent bouts of second guessing myself about breastfeeding (bizarre, but true), but my time is pretty limited these days if I want to use both hands to type so it might be a few days or weeks.
I suddenly began experiencing severe itching around 36-weeks. I casually mentioned it on Facebook and a friend cautioned that symptom could indicate liver problems and suggested that I call my doctor right away. I initially dismissed the idea because itching doesn't seem all that dangerous and I hate bugging my doctor since I'm sure that I'm already his most annoying patient. I ultimately decided to mention it to him because it's his job to deal with me, however annoying I may be, and the thought of having a liver problem scares the heck out of me. You know, because you need a functioning liver in order to do things like live.
His response was that itching is most likely caused by dry skin, but he was concerned that it was my hands & feet that were so itchy. Specifically, my palms & soles. Now, when I say that my palms & soles were itchy, I don't mean that I randomly scratched every now and then. The itching intensified at night and I would be awake and scratching at myself for hours every night. I'd use a rough washcloth and rub it against my hands & feet for hours on end. A few times I scratched myself with my wig brush because the stiff bristles felt good even if they made my skin red and sore. Nothing gave me any relief other than eventually passing out from exhaustion. . .and, even then, I'd wake up scratching.
The doctor mentioned that itchy hands and feet could be a symptom of cholestasis of pregnancy (CP or ICP) and he wanted me to go to the lab right away to get blood drawn. My liver function, as indicated by enzyme levels, and my bile acid levels were what he specifically wanted to see. I went to the lab late that day and the results indicated that a specific enzyme was four times over the upper normal level. I saw that number and was like, "Oh sh*t!" Seriously, liver problems are something that I really fear and that number scared me.
Based on that test result alone, my doctor decided to proceed as though he had all data and had me begin to take a handful of medicines to manage the symptoms of ICP. He gave me scripts for Actigall, Atarax, and hydrocortisone lotion. So much for being the hippie who doesn't like to take medications while pregnant. Now I was forced to do so for my own health and sanity and for the health of my as-yet unborn baby.
Why did he not have all the data to make a firm diagnosis? There are only a handful of labs in the country that run bile acid tests. Why? I have no freaking idea other than ICP is a fairly rare complication of pregnancy. So, naturally, that's exactly what I ended up diagnosed with once those bile acids came back. Oh sh*t indeed!
Of course, I spent plenty of quality time with Dr. Google and what I read only freaked me out all the more. Did you know that mothers with ICP have a significantly higher chance of having a stillbirth later in pregnancy? As in, the last couple of weeks of pregnancy. Having had 36-weeks of emotional turmoil, I wasn't expecting to face the possibility that I may not be able to hold this baby and take him home.
My c-section was initially scheduled for 39w5d and my doctor bumped me up to 38-weeks on the nose along with ordering twice-weekly NST visits at the hospital and telling me to go to Labor & Delivery (L&D) if I notice it takes more than one hour to feel ten fetal movements instead of the standard two hours. By the way, non-stress test (NST) is a total misnomer because you're only there if there is a potential problem so I'd say all moms to be are stressed in that room.
My itching never improved, even with meds, but my liver enzymes did drop down some and that was encouraging. The problem was, as one would expect, the very real risk of stillbirth. It's standard protocol to deliver prior to 38-weeks because the risk of stillbirth significantly increases at the end of pregnancy.
I became so fearful for my baby that I'd try to force fetal movement throughout the day so I could have some assurance that he was still living. One night I fell asleep and woke with a start when I realized that I hadn't felt any movement in the last hour. Sure, he may have been sleeping. . .but he may have been dead.
That's the emotional cruelty of ICP. Your bile acids can spike to dangerous levels with absolutely zero warning. Those bile acids get high enough and your baby dies. You have no idea that it's about to happen or even that it's happening. You just show up to your NST and the RN isn't able to find a heartbeat or you can't seem to get the baby to move during your fetal kick counts and you go to L&D only to discover that it's not a living baby you'll be delivering.
So I spent my time bargaining and pleading with God for my baby. I'm holding my 6-week old baby in my lap as I type this and just remembering those fears makes me feel sick and brings tears to my eyes. How I worried that I would lose this baby! I became convinced that this baby was going to die; his little heart would stop and my heart would break.
I had a meltdown early one morning and cried to my husband that I couldn't take these fears any longer. I was 37w3d and I couldn't understand why we were waiting for me to reach 38-weeks other than to increase the chances that the baby wouldn't need to spend any time in the NICU. I said the thing that was rattling around in my brain: I'd rather have a baby in the NICU than a baby in a box in the cemetery.
I showed up to my NST that morning and the RN asked how I was that day and I burst into tears. Well, I didn't just cry. I was pretty hysterical. I told her that I couldn't take losing another baby, not this close to the end, not now, not this baby. I couldn't sleep, couldn't concentrate, couldn't think of anything else besides the fear of losing my baby. She simply said, "It's time."
She phoned my doctor, spoke with the perinatologist and the hospital, and the OB currently on duty at the hospital. All agreed that I could deliver that day. And that's exactly what happened.
The good news is that my baby was perfectly healthy and didn't even spend one minute in the NICU, my liver is functioning perfectly well now, this harrowing experience is over and I have a beautiful baby in my arms. The bad news is that I'd have a significantly higher chance of developing ICP in a subsequent pregnancy (60 to 90% chance, depending on the source) and that it tends to manifest earlier and more severe in subsequent pregnancies. My husband was already not a fan of hearing my talk about wanting a third baby and this bit of knowledge slammed the door on us having a third. He flatly refuses to consider a third baby and a part of me understands. . .but another part of me still wants a third baby.
Why write this down? I don't know. I guess it's a good reminder that even the weirdest symptoms could indicate serious problems. I shudder to consider what could have happened had I not mentioned this crazy itching. I think it's also a good thing to explain just how emotionally difficult it is to get an ICP diagnosis. It's not just itching and whining. The itching was horrible, but the fear of losing your baby right at the end of pregnancy is so much worse.
I still would like to write down something about my delivery and my recent bouts of second guessing myself about breastfeeding (bizarre, but true), but my time is pretty limited these days if I want to use both hands to type so it might be a few days or weeks.
Friday, September 23, 2011
My Ironic Nickname
Here's a real quick English lesson before the post: Irony is the opposite of what most people think it means. You'd expect a big guy to be called "Fatty" so that is not ironic, but calling him "Slim" fits the definition. I've always been clumsy and accident prone and my parents bestowed upon me the ironic nickname "Grace" at an early age. After my OB appointment yesterday, I think I have earned a new ironic nickname. Just call me "Class" from now on. It all started a couple of days ago. . .
I've written about how I primp before a doctor visit and, knowing that I had an upcoming appointment, I decided to get reacquainted with my razor. All was going well until I got to the main attraction. I'm pretty sure I've mentioned the dangers in shaving areas that you can't see after I cut my labia a month or two ago. That sucked, but it was a clean slice and it healed quickly.
So I've established that shaving by touch alone can be hazardous. This time around I not only couldn't see because my belly obscures my line of sight, but also because I've been wearing my glasses and I obviously don't wear those in the shower. Even if I could see my sn@tch around my belly, I wouldn't be able to see it without working eyes. I was blind x 2 and using a sharp instrument on tender areas - what could possibly go wrong?
I passed my razor over what I thought were the edges of the hedges. A rinse revealed to my fingers that I had instead cut a hole right around the middle of the turf up top. How I so badly misjudged where my razor actually was, I have no idea. I might add that things aren't so bushy down below that I could just fluff things up with a hair pick later to disguise the damage. That's right; I may be a hippie, but I still don't sport a pubic 'fro. Figuring that I was probably thinking it looked worse than it really did, I left well enough alone and put my razor away. I actually went to bed and forgot about it.
As is customary, I surveyed the landscape the next morning as I was getting dressed and HOLY CRAP! I had a giant freaking hole in the middle of my pubic hair. I stared at it, wondering how to fix this horrible hair cut when the obvious solution came to me. In for a penny, in for a pound. Yep, I decided to shave it all off.
After I removed every last hair, I remembered why I had used the razor in the first place. I had a dang doctor's appointment. I might tell my doctor about my spontaneous orgasms, I might smile during breast exams, but I have NEVER presented a completely bald vulva for a pelvic exam and the very thought of someone other than my husband seeing EVERYTHING made me feel terribly uncomfortable.
It's not that my vulva is weird or anything (well, any weirder than any of them look), but I just feel ultra-ultra naked when I go totally bare. What woman wants to be ultra-ultra naked with a stranger fingering her in front of her husband? Actually, that might fly in certain circumstances but not with a doctor who I like and trust. Not only that, but friction tends to engorge the area when I don't have a little bit of hair up top to help buffer things and that leaves me feeling extremely turned on and/or looking extremely irritated. I wouldn't care if I was all red and inflamed looking, but I sure as heck don't want the doctor to think that I'm presenting a wet & horny looking pu$$y because of the stupid pelvic exam.
I could have tried to reschedule the appointment, but his schedule is usually very full and I didn't want to risk losing the appointment I did have. I was trying to think when the last time was that I had a pelvic exam and why. All I could come up with was it was when I was still having significant bleeding problems in this pregnancy and I think the last one I had was right after I had completed my first trimester. I decided that I probably wouldn't need another pelvic exam although I'd experienced another spotting episode over Labor Day so I kept my appointment.
You know, I did not have a pelvic exam yesterday so all my worries were for nothing. That's not to say that I didn't do something so totally boneheaded that I still cringe to think of it. Read on. . .
Yesterday was a hot day. It may not have felt all that hot to the non-pregnant members of the population, but it was hot as the blazes to me. When it's hot out, I prefer to nap wearing as little as possible. With this in mind, I stripped off my clothes (including panties & bra) and slipped on a nightgown when it was naptime. I've been sleeping poorly now for weeks upon weeks so I let naptime last as long as I possibly could before having to jam over to the doctor's office.
My hubs woke me up and said that I had to get dressed because we had to go. He grabbed our son and, while getting ready to put our boy in the car, our dumb dog ran out of the house. This happened as I was pulling a dress out of the closet. The yelling, barking, and resulting mayhem caused me to slip the dress over my head and run outside. I grabbed my son, fearing that our dog might become roadkill, and pulled him in the house while hubs dealt with the dog. Hubs got the dog under control and put back in the house. He put the kiddo in the car while I grabbed my shoes and hopped in the car.
Observant readers may notice what I did not put on. What was I not wearing? Panties.
A bare vulva, no panties (bra was missing too, BTW), and a dress. Class, man, pure class. When did I notice my missing undergarments? When we were half-way to the office and were already running late. Wonderful, just wonderful.
I did not have a pelvic exam so one might think that my whorish attire wouldn't be noticed, right? Wrong! Remember that I was wearing a dress? That means that I need to lift my dress to expose my abdomen so the Doppler can amplify the sound of my baby's heartbeat. Generally, my doctor grabs a sheet and tucks it in the waistband of my skirt or pants while performing this part of his exam.
Guess what? There was nothing for him to tuck the sheet into yesterday. Not only that, but he also took a fundal height measurement and that most definitely revealed that not only was I not wearing panties, but that I was ultra-ultra naked down below.
Ever the professional, even with who I assume is his nuttiest (and perhaps sluttiest) patient, he inquired if there was a reason I'd disrobed and if there was something I wanted him to check out. Uh, no Doc, that's pretty f*cking far from what I'd like because now I feel ultra-ultra naked and hella embarrassed. It was like I was the only one who showed up naked on the nude beach. Sure that I could see my husband's smirk in my peripheral vision, I gave a dismissive wave of the hand and simply said, "No. It's a long story." The doctor wisely kept his mouth shut.
I'd say that I'm officially "that" patient and I have most definitely earned my new ironic nickname. Have you ever had an embarrassing mishap while visiting the doctor? Please share and help me feel like I might still have some tiny lingering shred of dignity left intact.
I've written about how I primp before a doctor visit and, knowing that I had an upcoming appointment, I decided to get reacquainted with my razor. All was going well until I got to the main attraction. I'm pretty sure I've mentioned the dangers in shaving areas that you can't see after I cut my labia a month or two ago. That sucked, but it was a clean slice and it healed quickly.
So I've established that shaving by touch alone can be hazardous. This time around I not only couldn't see because my belly obscures my line of sight, but also because I've been wearing my glasses and I obviously don't wear those in the shower. Even if I could see my sn@tch around my belly, I wouldn't be able to see it without working eyes. I was blind x 2 and using a sharp instrument on tender areas - what could possibly go wrong?
I passed my razor over what I thought were the edges of the hedges. A rinse revealed to my fingers that I had instead cut a hole right around the middle of the turf up top. How I so badly misjudged where my razor actually was, I have no idea. I might add that things aren't so bushy down below that I could just fluff things up with a hair pick later to disguise the damage. That's right; I may be a hippie, but I still don't sport a pubic 'fro. Figuring that I was probably thinking it looked worse than it really did, I left well enough alone and put my razor away. I actually went to bed and forgot about it.
As is customary, I surveyed the landscape the next morning as I was getting dressed and HOLY CRAP! I had a giant freaking hole in the middle of my pubic hair. I stared at it, wondering how to fix this horrible hair cut when the obvious solution came to me. In for a penny, in for a pound. Yep, I decided to shave it all off.
After I removed every last hair, I remembered why I had used the razor in the first place. I had a dang doctor's appointment. I might tell my doctor about my spontaneous orgasms, I might smile during breast exams, but I have NEVER presented a completely bald vulva for a pelvic exam and the very thought of someone other than my husband seeing EVERYTHING made me feel terribly uncomfortable.
It's not that my vulva is weird or anything (well, any weirder than any of them look), but I just feel ultra-ultra naked when I go totally bare. What woman wants to be ultra-ultra naked with a stranger fingering her in front of her husband? Actually, that might fly in certain circumstances but not with a doctor who I like and trust. Not only that, but friction tends to engorge the area when I don't have a little bit of hair up top to help buffer things and that leaves me feeling extremely turned on and/or looking extremely irritated. I wouldn't care if I was all red and inflamed looking, but I sure as heck don't want the doctor to think that I'm presenting a wet & horny looking pu$$y because of the stupid pelvic exam.
I could have tried to reschedule the appointment, but his schedule is usually very full and I didn't want to risk losing the appointment I did have. I was trying to think when the last time was that I had a pelvic exam and why. All I could come up with was it was when I was still having significant bleeding problems in this pregnancy and I think the last one I had was right after I had completed my first trimester. I decided that I probably wouldn't need another pelvic exam although I'd experienced another spotting episode over Labor Day so I kept my appointment.
You know, I did not have a pelvic exam yesterday so all my worries were for nothing. That's not to say that I didn't do something so totally boneheaded that I still cringe to think of it. Read on. . .
Yesterday was a hot day. It may not have felt all that hot to the non-pregnant members of the population, but it was hot as the blazes to me. When it's hot out, I prefer to nap wearing as little as possible. With this in mind, I stripped off my clothes (including panties & bra) and slipped on a nightgown when it was naptime. I've been sleeping poorly now for weeks upon weeks so I let naptime last as long as I possibly could before having to jam over to the doctor's office.
My hubs woke me up and said that I had to get dressed because we had to go. He grabbed our son and, while getting ready to put our boy in the car, our dumb dog ran out of the house. This happened as I was pulling a dress out of the closet. The yelling, barking, and resulting mayhem caused me to slip the dress over my head and run outside. I grabbed my son, fearing that our dog might become roadkill, and pulled him in the house while hubs dealt with the dog. Hubs got the dog under control and put back in the house. He put the kiddo in the car while I grabbed my shoes and hopped in the car.
Observant readers may notice what I did not put on. What was I not wearing? Panties.
A bare vulva, no panties (bra was missing too, BTW), and a dress. Class, man, pure class. When did I notice my missing undergarments? When we were half-way to the office and were already running late. Wonderful, just wonderful.
I did not have a pelvic exam so one might think that my whorish attire wouldn't be noticed, right? Wrong! Remember that I was wearing a dress? That means that I need to lift my dress to expose my abdomen so the Doppler can amplify the sound of my baby's heartbeat. Generally, my doctor grabs a sheet and tucks it in the waistband of my skirt or pants while performing this part of his exam.
Guess what? There was nothing for him to tuck the sheet into yesterday. Not only that, but he also took a fundal height measurement and that most definitely revealed that not only was I not wearing panties, but that I was ultra-ultra naked down below.
Ever the professional, even with who I assume is his nuttiest (and perhaps sluttiest) patient, he inquired if there was a reason I'd disrobed and if there was something I wanted him to check out. Uh, no Doc, that's pretty f*cking far from what I'd like because now I feel ultra-ultra naked and hella embarrassed. It was like I was the only one who showed up naked on the nude beach. Sure that I could see my husband's smirk in my peripheral vision, I gave a dismissive wave of the hand and simply said, "No. It's a long story." The doctor wisely kept his mouth shut.
I'd say that I'm officially "that" patient and I have most definitely earned my new ironic nickname. Have you ever had an embarrassing mishap while visiting the doctor? Please share and help me feel like I might still have some tiny lingering shred of dignity left intact.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
I'm Definitely Patient of the Year
I'm a little over 21-weeks along and I saw my OB last week. He reviewed the big ultrasound results from a couple of weeks ago and everything looks, in his words, "excellent!" He was very happy to hear that I haven't had any spotting episodes since the last appointment and the baby's heartbeat sounds great.
He commented that my weight gain (6 pounds total) is "wonderful" and added that it would be a bit on the low side if I had been at an ideal weight prior to conception, but he was happy with my progress since I was a little overweight to start. Ouch! My husband patiently explained several times after the appointment that, no, the doctor did not say I was fat and I'm going to choose to not obsess on the matter. I guess it could have been worse anyway since he could have told me to reign in my eating and stop stuffing so much food in my pie-hole.
As it is, he told me to keep doing whatever it is that I'm doing. Um, that would be basically living on Sonic burgers, Del Taco tacos, and those vile little tacos (that are oh-so-freaking delicious right now!) from Jack in the Box. Oh, and lemonade. Lots & lots of lemonade.
It really should have been a quick in and out appointment because we were done within around ten minutes. Sensing I had an opportunity and feeling like there was no time like the present, I decided to ask him about a few things that have been rattling around in my noggin. Yep, it was time to talk about childbirth and placentas. I asked my hubs to leave the room since the poor guy turns green when I talk about my placenta plans. I'm nearly certain that my doctor was thinking, "Uh-oh, it's so off-the-wall that she's sending her husband away. . .what in the world is about to come out of her mouth?" If he did think such a thought, he was right to be wary.
I chose to tackle childbirth first. Thanks to the way that my HMO staffs OBs at the hospital, my doctor has no interest - financial or otherwise - in seeing me have a c-section. That's great and I think it would be wonderful if that were the standard because I believe it means the doctor will be more honest when discussing the risks v benefits and less likely to use bullsh*t scare tactics to push a c/s in order to line their own pockets or manage their own time effectively.
Though I'm well informed and have taken it upon myself to get educated on the matter, he detailed the risks involved with each method of delivery. I tried to tell him that I know all that and he asked that I listen because informed consent isn't really informed consent unless the patient is actually informed. The logic of the statement struck a chord so I did listen. When he was finished, I still hadn't made a clear decision. He shrugged and said that there was no need to decide anything yet and I could take another couple of months to come up with how I'd like to birth this baby.
He didn't bring up certain things that I specifically wanted to know about so I came right out with what has been bothering me. I will not disclose the specifics of my questions and I won't share his exact answers. Let's just say that decades of dealing with pregnant females and their kooky questions is probably the only thing that kept him from doing a total facepalm during this discussion.
At the end of it all, I said that I'd rather have an elective repeat c-section and I am not willing to experience a trial of labor. No, he didn't use any scare tactics. No, he didn't push another c/s. He simply stated the obvious and pointed out something I already knew. I was already leaning toward another c-section since last January so I feel confident in my decision. Of course, that's not to say that my thoughts won't change in the coming months. . .
He stood up, ready to leave, when I mentioned that I had one last question. I asked The Question. I wanted to know if the hospital would release my placenta to me. I wish that I'd had a camera handy because the look on his face was priceless. I really do think that I shocked him. . .his jaw actually dropped! He recovered quickly and explained that he'd never been asked that question and he wasn't sure, but that he'd inquire about it on my behalf and get back to me. He made a quick note, stared at me for a moment and asked why I wanted to take my placenta home.
My response? "I'd rather not disclose that information." Yeah, I'm pretty sure that shocked him too. I mean, I'm the patient who is basically an open book about every gross & weird thing that goes on in my body and I'm totally silent on this so I'm certain that he would like to know why I'm mum on the matter.
My husband groaned and rolled his eyes when I told him that I'd discussed my placenta with the doctor. He was certain that there would be no way they'd let me have it because it's, as he calls it, "biological waste." Well, I received a message yesterday from my OB and guess what? I can take that bad boy home! Woo-hoo!
Poor hubs shuddered when I told him the good news and remarked that I probably wouldn't be allowed to take it if they knew about my plans. I said that they don't so it doesn't matter. Then I gagged the poor guy out even more by suggesting that I might just plant it in the garden because it's supposed to be an excellent soil amendment. I don't know that he'll ever eat another bit of produce that I grow again. . .LOL!
So now I'm looking for recommendations for placenta encapsulation in the Orange County area. I will know the birth date since I'm having the birth scheduled. Does anyone know anyone who provides this service? Any help or advice would be appreciated.
He commented that my weight gain (6 pounds total) is "wonderful" and added that it would be a bit on the low side if I had been at an ideal weight prior to conception, but he was happy with my progress since I was a little overweight to start. Ouch! My husband patiently explained several times after the appointment that, no, the doctor did not say I was fat and I'm going to choose to not obsess on the matter. I guess it could have been worse anyway since he could have told me to reign in my eating and stop stuffing so much food in my pie-hole.
As it is, he told me to keep doing whatever it is that I'm doing. Um, that would be basically living on Sonic burgers, Del Taco tacos, and those vile little tacos (that are oh-so-freaking delicious right now!) from Jack in the Box. Oh, and lemonade. Lots & lots of lemonade.
It really should have been a quick in and out appointment because we were done within around ten minutes. Sensing I had an opportunity and feeling like there was no time like the present, I decided to ask him about a few things that have been rattling around in my noggin. Yep, it was time to talk about childbirth and placentas. I asked my hubs to leave the room since the poor guy turns green when I talk about my placenta plans. I'm nearly certain that my doctor was thinking, "Uh-oh, it's so off-the-wall that she's sending her husband away. . .what in the world is about to come out of her mouth?" If he did think such a thought, he was right to be wary.
I chose to tackle childbirth first. Thanks to the way that my HMO staffs OBs at the hospital, my doctor has no interest - financial or otherwise - in seeing me have a c-section. That's great and I think it would be wonderful if that were the standard because I believe it means the doctor will be more honest when discussing the risks v benefits and less likely to use bullsh*t scare tactics to push a c/s in order to line their own pockets or manage their own time effectively.
Though I'm well informed and have taken it upon myself to get educated on the matter, he detailed the risks involved with each method of delivery. I tried to tell him that I know all that and he asked that I listen because informed consent isn't really informed consent unless the patient is actually informed. The logic of the statement struck a chord so I did listen. When he was finished, I still hadn't made a clear decision. He shrugged and said that there was no need to decide anything yet and I could take another couple of months to come up with how I'd like to birth this baby.
He didn't bring up certain things that I specifically wanted to know about so I came right out with what has been bothering me. I will not disclose the specifics of my questions and I won't share his exact answers. Let's just say that decades of dealing with pregnant females and their kooky questions is probably the only thing that kept him from doing a total facepalm during this discussion.
At the end of it all, I said that I'd rather have an elective repeat c-section and I am not willing to experience a trial of labor. No, he didn't use any scare tactics. No, he didn't push another c/s. He simply stated the obvious and pointed out something I already knew. I was already leaning toward another c-section since last January so I feel confident in my decision. Of course, that's not to say that my thoughts won't change in the coming months. . .
He stood up, ready to leave, when I mentioned that I had one last question. I asked The Question. I wanted to know if the hospital would release my placenta to me. I wish that I'd had a camera handy because the look on his face was priceless. I really do think that I shocked him. . .his jaw actually dropped! He recovered quickly and explained that he'd never been asked that question and he wasn't sure, but that he'd inquire about it on my behalf and get back to me. He made a quick note, stared at me for a moment and asked why I wanted to take my placenta home.
My response? "I'd rather not disclose that information." Yeah, I'm pretty sure that shocked him too. I mean, I'm the patient who is basically an open book about every gross & weird thing that goes on in my body and I'm totally silent on this so I'm certain that he would like to know why I'm mum on the matter.
My husband groaned and rolled his eyes when I told him that I'd discussed my placenta with the doctor. He was certain that there would be no way they'd let me have it because it's, as he calls it, "biological waste." Well, I received a message yesterday from my OB and guess what? I can take that bad boy home! Woo-hoo!
Poor hubs shuddered when I told him the good news and remarked that I probably wouldn't be allowed to take it if they knew about my plans. I said that they don't so it doesn't matter. Then I gagged the poor guy out even more by suggesting that I might just plant it in the garden because it's supposed to be an excellent soil amendment. I don't know that he'll ever eat another bit of produce that I grow again. . .LOL!
So now I'm looking for recommendations for placenta encapsulation in the Orange County area. I will know the birth date since I'm having the birth scheduled. Does anyone know anyone who provides this service? Any help or advice would be appreciated.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Sleep is for P*ssies!
It has been weeks since I've slept more than a couple of hours in a row and I've come to the conclusion that sleep, while certainly nice and definitely coveted, is for p*ssies. Settle down, Sleep Police, I'll explain. I just hope I can finish before I completely pass out from utter exhaustion.
There was a time not long ago in my adult life - it seems like it was a lifetime ago - that I actually required nine-hours of sleep each night. NINE HOURS!! A third of the day spent in bed. . .just sleeping and dreaming my life away. I do very little in moderation and can think of nothing quite so decadent as my old sleep schedule. That said, I'm intensely envious of the hearty serving of sleep that my non-parent self used to enjoy and take for granted.
I'm currently operating on around four total hours of sleep. I know, I know, "It's just preparing you for when the baby comes." Yeah, well, I'm quite aware of the demands that an exclusively breastfed newborn puts on mama and I remember all too clearly the shockingly little amount of sleep that I had for months upon months after my son was born. I hate to state the obvious, but this baby won't be here for 18- to 22-weeks so I have plenty of time to get back into the no-sleep groove.
What is causing my sleep troubles? In a word, EVERYTHING!
My younger son begins kick up his heels at the same time each day. What time would that be? Around 1:00 or 2:00. . .in the morning. This wouldn't be such a big deal if his dance fever didn't last until around 4:00 or 5:00 am. I must confess that I still thrill at the feeling of his tiny hands and feet beating a tattoo against his uterine home. I just wish he'd do it when I'd ordinarily be awake.
My older son, not to be outdone by his little brother, has also started to wake up in the middle of the night. I can count on at least one (if not two or three!) nocturnal bedside visit from him. He might have to pee, he might walk in and ask if his father is home, his might even grab a carton of milk from the fridge and crawl into bed with it. Yes, that actually happened. The strangest thing he seems to be doing (stranger than the milk carton incident in my book) is wandering out of his bedroom to the living room and crawling up on my rocking chair where he promptly conks out; though he once sat up, gave me a funny look and said, "What's going on out here?" What indeed!
My body is also getting into the act and is my constant wake up whenever I actually am able to catch some winks between the shenanigans from my boys. First, my bladder is clearly way too small because I'm up half the night just to pee. Yes, I've tried limiting my fluid intake at night. No, it doesn't appear to make much difference because my baby will still jump up and down on my bladder and make me feel like I have to pee. Whether I actually do have to urinate is debatable because sometimes I think it's just the kicky pressure that gives me the sensation that I might have to pee, which of course wakes me up anyway.
If it's not my bladder signalling me to wake up, it's heartburn, gas, or my gallbladder. The pain in my chest is becoming a serious pain in the @ss. I can't sleep for hours if I'm awakened with the awful sensation that feels like I'm being run through with a sword. The pain is directly below my sternum and it goes straight through and out my back. I can't get a decent breath, let alone get comfortable enough to sleep, when this pain is presenting. I'm not inclined to believe it's heartburn for reasons I've previously detailed, but I can't say that it's my gallbladder either. That leaves gas so I'm not only getting fat, but I also have to fart. Lovely.
I'm not sleeping anywhere near the amount of hours I'd like and guess what? I'm still handling life. Poorly at times perhaps, but handling it nonetheless. Here's a thank you to my children and my body for showing me that, even with only a few hours to recharge each evening, I can do so much more than I could have ever dreamed. . .ah, dreams. . .zzzzzzzzz
There was a time not long ago in my adult life - it seems like it was a lifetime ago - that I actually required nine-hours of sleep each night. NINE HOURS!! A third of the day spent in bed. . .just sleeping and dreaming my life away. I do very little in moderation and can think of nothing quite so decadent as my old sleep schedule. That said, I'm intensely envious of the hearty serving of sleep that my non-parent self used to enjoy and take for granted.
I'm currently operating on around four total hours of sleep. I know, I know, "It's just preparing you for when the baby comes." Yeah, well, I'm quite aware of the demands that an exclusively breastfed newborn puts on mama and I remember all too clearly the shockingly little amount of sleep that I had for months upon months after my son was born. I hate to state the obvious, but this baby won't be here for 18- to 22-weeks so I have plenty of time to get back into the no-sleep groove.
What is causing my sleep troubles? In a word, EVERYTHING!
My younger son begins kick up his heels at the same time each day. What time would that be? Around 1:00 or 2:00. . .in the morning. This wouldn't be such a big deal if his dance fever didn't last until around 4:00 or 5:00 am. I must confess that I still thrill at the feeling of his tiny hands and feet beating a tattoo against his uterine home. I just wish he'd do it when I'd ordinarily be awake.
My older son, not to be outdone by his little brother, has also started to wake up in the middle of the night. I can count on at least one (if not two or three!) nocturnal bedside visit from him. He might have to pee, he might walk in and ask if his father is home, his might even grab a carton of milk from the fridge and crawl into bed with it. Yes, that actually happened. The strangest thing he seems to be doing (stranger than the milk carton incident in my book) is wandering out of his bedroom to the living room and crawling up on my rocking chair where he promptly conks out; though he once sat up, gave me a funny look and said, "What's going on out here?" What indeed!
My body is also getting into the act and is my constant wake up whenever I actually am able to catch some winks between the shenanigans from my boys. First, my bladder is clearly way too small because I'm up half the night just to pee. Yes, I've tried limiting my fluid intake at night. No, it doesn't appear to make much difference because my baby will still jump up and down on my bladder and make me feel like I have to pee. Whether I actually do have to urinate is debatable because sometimes I think it's just the kicky pressure that gives me the sensation that I might have to pee, which of course wakes me up anyway.
If it's not my bladder signalling me to wake up, it's heartburn, gas, or my gallbladder. The pain in my chest is becoming a serious pain in the @ss. I can't sleep for hours if I'm awakened with the awful sensation that feels like I'm being run through with a sword. The pain is directly below my sternum and it goes straight through and out my back. I can't get a decent breath, let alone get comfortable enough to sleep, when this pain is presenting. I'm not inclined to believe it's heartburn for reasons I've previously detailed, but I can't say that it's my gallbladder either. That leaves gas so I'm not only getting fat, but I also have to fart. Lovely.
I'm not sleeping anywhere near the amount of hours I'd like and guess what? I'm still handling life. Poorly at times perhaps, but handling it nonetheless. Here's a thank you to my children and my body for showing me that, even with only a few hours to recharge each evening, I can do so much more than I could have ever dreamed. . .ah, dreams. . .zzzzzzzzz
Friday, August 19, 2011
A Helpful Tip
It's generally not a good idea to shave your nether region
if you can't actually see it.
Yes, I am now speaking from experience.
OUCH!
if you can't actually see it.
Yes, I am now speaking from experience.
OUCH!
Thursday, August 18, 2011
I'm Having a. . .
BOY!!!
Our son asked for a little brother
and we are thrilled
that we're having another son.
What Does it Look Like to You?
As I indicated last night, my big ultrasound is this afternoon. Here is what I look like at 19-weeks, 6-days.
I find it hard to believe that I'm actually smiling while baring such a fleshy midsection.
Another shot for your, uh, viewing pleasure. . .
I have 100% guesses for girl on my Facebook page. What gender do you think it looks like I'm carrying?
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Wanna Make Bets??
My big ultrasound is tomorrow and I'm obviously excited because it never gets old to hear your baby's heartbeat or see them performing a busy tumbling routine while in the womb. I'm hoping that the ultrasound reveals that everything looks wonderfully normal. It's been around a month since I last had any spotting episodes and I'm optimistic that the second half of this pregnancy will be far less nerve-wracking than the first half.
Of course, I'm also very interested to see if the technician can make a gender determination. That's dependent on a number of factors, primarily that the child will sit still and, ahem, provide ample viewing opportunity. That is, open their legs and not move away too quickly.
My husband's family is heavily male and the general feeling is that it's definitely a boy I'm carrying. I did have that name dream about two weeks prior to conception and the name was definitely female with absolutely zero gender ambiguity. This pregnancy is very similar to the one I had with my son, but it is significantly different in many ways and the exact same could be said about the baby's movement patterns.
Anyone care to weigh in on whether you think I'm having a girl or a boy? If so, why do you think this baby is the gender you think?
Of course, I'm also very interested to see if the technician can make a gender determination. That's dependent on a number of factors, primarily that the child will sit still and, ahem, provide ample viewing opportunity. That is, open their legs and not move away too quickly.
My husband's family is heavily male and the general feeling is that it's definitely a boy I'm carrying. I did have that name dream about two weeks prior to conception and the name was definitely female with absolutely zero gender ambiguity. This pregnancy is very similar to the one I had with my son, but it is significantly different in many ways and the exact same could be said about the baby's movement patterns.
Anyone care to weigh in on whether you think I'm having a girl or a boy? If so, why do you think this baby is the gender you think?
Thursday, August 11, 2011
So Similar and So Different
I assumed that I'd sail through any pregnancy after I had my son because I'd done it before. It's funny how each pregnancy is totally different, isn't it? Perhaps it's just that memories fade over time and I can't totally remember what it was like when my son was growing in-utero.
- I am completely surprised by how wiped out I am even in the second trimester. I remember being slammed with first trimester exhaustion with my son, but it seems like my energy came back at some point. Otherwise, how in the world did I put in the hours I did at work when I was pregnant with him?
- I don't remember backaches beginning so early with my son, though my husband says I complained about my back the entire time. I had gained more than twice that amount of weight at 19-weeks when I was pregnant with my son than what I have so far so I'd expect that I had backaches that time around. I still haven't even gained five pounds yet and it makes no sense that my back already hurts.
- I have never eaten as much protein in my entire life! I ate a very balanced diet when I was pregnant with my son and, other than suddenly liking pork, I didn't have any weird cravings. I certainly didn't have any food aversions. I only want to consume animal flesh this time around and it is very difficult for me to force down veggies which is certainly a weird about-face on my normally veggie-heavy diet. I still can't bring myself to consume dairy right now and that's bizarre because I used to go through a gallon of milk each week.
- I never had any spotting and certainly didn't have any outright bleeding when I was pregnant with my son. I've detailed my drama with this pregnancy in this blog so there's no need to revisit that bloody mess.
- My breasts ACHED throughout my entire pregnancy with my son. I can't remember what hurt worse, my back or my boobs. The twins don't exactly feel very touchable at this point and are still sensitive, but I don't think I'd kill someone for copping a feel either.
- I felt baby kicks far earlier this time around, but the baby is significantly more mellow. My son made me feel like I was being beat up from the inside out and so far this baby is more gentle and seems less active. I'll be 19-weeks tomorrow and it's entirely possible that I'm just not feeling all the movement yet.
If you've had more than one baby, how were your pregnancies different?
- I am completely surprised by how wiped out I am even in the second trimester. I remember being slammed with first trimester exhaustion with my son, but it seems like my energy came back at some point. Otherwise, how in the world did I put in the hours I did at work when I was pregnant with him?
- I don't remember backaches beginning so early with my son, though my husband says I complained about my back the entire time. I had gained more than twice that amount of weight at 19-weeks when I was pregnant with my son than what I have so far so I'd expect that I had backaches that time around. I still haven't even gained five pounds yet and it makes no sense that my back already hurts.
- I have never eaten as much protein in my entire life! I ate a very balanced diet when I was pregnant with my son and, other than suddenly liking pork, I didn't have any weird cravings. I certainly didn't have any food aversions. I only want to consume animal flesh this time around and it is very difficult for me to force down veggies which is certainly a weird about-face on my normally veggie-heavy diet. I still can't bring myself to consume dairy right now and that's bizarre because I used to go through a gallon of milk each week.
- I never had any spotting and certainly didn't have any outright bleeding when I was pregnant with my son. I've detailed my drama with this pregnancy in this blog so there's no need to revisit that bloody mess.
- My breasts ACHED throughout my entire pregnancy with my son. I can't remember what hurt worse, my back or my boobs. The twins don't exactly feel very touchable at this point and are still sensitive, but I don't think I'd kill someone for copping a feel either.
- I felt baby kicks far earlier this time around, but the baby is significantly more mellow. My son made me feel like I was being beat up from the inside out and so far this baby is more gentle and seems less active. I'll be 19-weeks tomorrow and it's entirely possible that I'm just not feeling all the movement yet.
If you've had more than one baby, how were your pregnancies different?
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Why is Miscarriage so Isolating?
A couple of things on Facebook reminded me of a post that I always intended to write. Though I had an outpouring of love and support after I lost my baby in January, I was surprised at how isolating a miscarriage is to women who have lost their babies. Not only is the tragedy isolating, but I found that most women keep quiet about miscarriage unless they pulled my move of blabbing about the pregnancy early on and ended up with a loss.
Why is it that miscarriage is shrouded in painful silence? We know that around 20% of confirmed pregnancies end with a miscarriage and there is some evidence that it's more like 50% of all pregnancies (not necessarily confirmed pregnancies) end in loss. Think of the women you know. . .chances are that several of them have lost at least one baby; perhaps you have too. So why are women so reluctant to talk about it if so many of us have experienced it?
I wonder if the medical establishment view toward miscarriage doesn't help squelch healing discussions after loss. After all, one miscarriage isn't considered to be a problem and a woman isn't generally going to receive additional care until she's suffered at least two (or more!) losses in a row. The message that this attitude sends is that your one miscarriage isn't a big deal. It's not even important enough to warrant any further examination once they've verified that the "products of conception" are out of your womb.
You know what? Every baby that is lost is a big deal. It's a big freaking deal to the woman who miscarried and it's a big deal to her family because they also lost a family member. It's heartless and cruel to suggest or imply that miscarriage doesn't matter.
I also wonder if the standard responses people give to women who have experienced miscarriage doesn't force women to clam up and hold back their feelings. I heard some things that were so off-the-charts insensitive that I almost couldn't believe that a loved one would ever consider saying them to a grieving mother. And that's exactly what a woman who lost a baby is - a grieving mother. It makes no difference that her baby was never born when the fact is that her baby was alive at one time. I think sometimes people forget that a baby is very real to a woman as soon as she discovers that she's pregnant. . .as soon as she hears that precious heartbeat.
I was contacted by many women who had lost babies after I shared that my pregnancy had ended. Whether or not they went on to have a perfectly healthy baby later, we are all united in knowing the pain of miscarriage. A sisterhood of sorrow. Not surprisingly, none of these women tried to downplay what had happened and their support was particularly comforting.
If any good can be found in losing my baby in January it's that I know the ache of loss and, since I have a big mouth (or, more accurately, an active keyboard), I hope that I make the loneliest of tragedies feel a little less isolating to at least one woman.
Why is it that miscarriage is shrouded in painful silence? We know that around 20% of confirmed pregnancies end with a miscarriage and there is some evidence that it's more like 50% of all pregnancies (not necessarily confirmed pregnancies) end in loss. Think of the women you know. . .chances are that several of them have lost at least one baby; perhaps you have too. So why are women so reluctant to talk about it if so many of us have experienced it?
I wonder if the medical establishment view toward miscarriage doesn't help squelch healing discussions after loss. After all, one miscarriage isn't considered to be a problem and a woman isn't generally going to receive additional care until she's suffered at least two (or more!) losses in a row. The message that this attitude sends is that your one miscarriage isn't a big deal. It's not even important enough to warrant any further examination once they've verified that the "products of conception" are out of your womb.
You know what? Every baby that is lost is a big deal. It's a big freaking deal to the woman who miscarried and it's a big deal to her family because they also lost a family member. It's heartless and cruel to suggest or imply that miscarriage doesn't matter.
I also wonder if the standard responses people give to women who have experienced miscarriage doesn't force women to clam up and hold back their feelings. I heard some things that were so off-the-charts insensitive that I almost couldn't believe that a loved one would ever consider saying them to a grieving mother. And that's exactly what a woman who lost a baby is - a grieving mother. It makes no difference that her baby was never born when the fact is that her baby was alive at one time. I think sometimes people forget that a baby is very real to a woman as soon as she discovers that she's pregnant. . .as soon as she hears that precious heartbeat.
I was contacted by many women who had lost babies after I shared that my pregnancy had ended. Whether or not they went on to have a perfectly healthy baby later, we are all united in knowing the pain of miscarriage. A sisterhood of sorrow. Not surprisingly, none of these women tried to downplay what had happened and their support was particularly comforting.
If any good can be found in losing my baby in January it's that I know the ache of loss and, since I have a big mouth (or, more accurately, an active keyboard), I hope that I make the loneliest of tragedies feel a little less isolating to at least one woman.
Monday, August 8, 2011
What Are Pregnant Chicks Wearing?
I'm nearly halfway done with this pregnancy and, since all my maternity clothes are packed up and out of my house, I'm starting to look at clothing options for when I outgrow my existing wardrobe. "Wardrobe" makes it sound so grand, but at the moment I'm limited to three pairs of pants, five shirts, and a few dresses. Yeah, right about now I'm really annoyed that the vast majority of my clothes are gone.
I hate shopping, but I'm forced to do it so I can get some clothes that will fit for the next few months. That is, I will need to purchase some maternity clothes. And there is my problem. NO ONE SELLS MATERNITY CLOTHES!! Seriously.
I have dragged my old bones to stores all over town, grumbling to myself about how much I hate shopping the entire time, and all I found was three small T-racks and a wall display of maternity clothes at Kohls. I should also add that I'm continually irritated that no one sells plain ol' cotton nightgowns either. Pajama sets, yes. Night shirts, yes. Nightgowns, no.
Am I the only woman in SoCal who would like maternity clothes and a cotton nightgown?
I hate shopping, but I'm forced to do it so I can get some clothes that will fit for the next few months. That is, I will need to purchase some maternity clothes. And there is my problem. NO ONE SELLS MATERNITY CLOTHES!! Seriously.
I have dragged my old bones to stores all over town, grumbling to myself about how much I hate shopping the entire time, and all I found was three small T-racks and a wall display of maternity clothes at Kohls. I should also add that I'm continually irritated that no one sells plain ol' cotton nightgowns either. Pajama sets, yes. Night shirts, yes. Nightgowns, no.
Am I the only woman in SoCal who would like maternity clothes and a cotton nightgown?
Monday, August 1, 2011
I Was Just Old, Now I Get Another Label
I think Kaiser might be label-obsessed. I was reviewing the paperwork I received from the doctor's office last week and found yet another label applied toward me. You probably remember that I was so offended at the "advanced maternal age" label in June that I wrote an entire blog post railing about it. I still bristle at the designation, but it is definitely preferred to the label I found on another bit of paperwork which specified that I was "elderly." Grrr.
What was written in my medical record to bother me this time? It's that I'm officially considered a "high risk pregnancy." High risk. High freaking risk.
I'm assuming that I've earned this new label because my body won't stop with the stupid spotting and it's not considered in the realm of normal to have any vaginal bleeding in the second trimester. Though I still have spotting every now and then, I am thankful that I don't bleed on a daily basis any longer. I guess the occasional spotting is enough to earn me a spot in the high risk category of pregnancy designations.
So I'm old and high risk now. I'm afraid to ask what label could possibly be next? Chronic oversharer? Demanding complainer? Of course, my next label could be Patient of the Year, but I'm pretty sure that I'm out of the running at this point.
In other news, my baby apparently thought today was a good day to boogie down in my womb and I felt tiny kicks and rolls several times in the wee hours of the morning and after eating during the day. I'll gladly take the designations that I don't like as long as I get to hold this sweet little baby in around 22-weeks or so.
What was written in my medical record to bother me this time? It's that I'm officially considered a "high risk pregnancy." High risk. High freaking risk.
I'm assuming that I've earned this new label because my body won't stop with the stupid spotting and it's not considered in the realm of normal to have any vaginal bleeding in the second trimester. Though I still have spotting every now and then, I am thankful that I don't bleed on a daily basis any longer. I guess the occasional spotting is enough to earn me a spot in the high risk category of pregnancy designations.
So I'm old and high risk now. I'm afraid to ask what label could possibly be next? Chronic oversharer? Demanding complainer? Of course, my next label could be Patient of the Year, but I'm pretty sure that I'm out of the running at this point.
In other news, my baby apparently thought today was a good day to boogie down in my womb and I felt tiny kicks and rolls several times in the wee hours of the morning and after eating during the day. I'll gladly take the designations that I don't like as long as I get to hold this sweet little baby in around 22-weeks or so.
Friday, July 29, 2011
When Did You Stop Wearing. . .
your child?
I'm 17-weeks pregnant today and I still wear my 3-year old fairly often. Yes, I know he can walk. Yes, I know that he's not a "baby" any longer. Yes, I know that several people think I'm totally bonkers for wearing him at all - especially while pregnant AND in the hot Summer months.
Why do I still wear him? Mainly because wearing him is sometimes the safest and easiest option when we're in public and he's only 3-years old so his legs tire far easier and earlier than mine. Also, he's pretty tall and it's becoming impossible to find a stroller that he can comfortably ride in for any long periods of time. And, I confess, whether at home or in public, both my son and I like the closeness that wearing him provides.
I weighed him today and he's finally 30-pounds. I realize that he's far from being a heavy load, but I know that my back will only continue to ache and it will get worse as this pregnancy progresses. At this point, however, it's not that big of a deal to toss him on my back in the Ergo or the Boba or to let him ride on my hip in the pouch or the ring sling.
But the clock is ticking and I will have to decide pretty quick when I'm going to stop wearing him. I don't want to bar him from riding on my back or hip too close to my due date because I don't want him to draw the connection that his loss of ridership privileges is the baby's fault. Depending on how I deliver this baby, I may not even be able to pick him up for weeks afterward - let alone hitch a ride for extended periods on my body. Besides, I'm assuming that I'll be wearing the baby all cozied up in a wrap so that only leaves my back available for toddler rides anyway.
So, back to my original question, when did you stop wearing your child(ren)? Did you wear your kiddos during pregnancy? When did you stop wearing them if you wore them in pregnancy? Was your older child jealous that the new baby was being worn and they were not? If you had a c/s, did the older child ever want to be worn again once you were able to wear them?
I'm 17-weeks pregnant today and I still wear my 3-year old fairly often. Yes, I know he can walk. Yes, I know that he's not a "baby" any longer. Yes, I know that several people think I'm totally bonkers for wearing him at all - especially while pregnant AND in the hot Summer months.
Why do I still wear him? Mainly because wearing him is sometimes the safest and easiest option when we're in public and he's only 3-years old so his legs tire far easier and earlier than mine. Also, he's pretty tall and it's becoming impossible to find a stroller that he can comfortably ride in for any long periods of time. And, I confess, whether at home or in public, both my son and I like the closeness that wearing him provides.
I weighed him today and he's finally 30-pounds. I realize that he's far from being a heavy load, but I know that my back will only continue to ache and it will get worse as this pregnancy progresses. At this point, however, it's not that big of a deal to toss him on my back in the Ergo or the Boba or to let him ride on my hip in the pouch or the ring sling.
But the clock is ticking and I will have to decide pretty quick when I'm going to stop wearing him. I don't want to bar him from riding on my back or hip too close to my due date because I don't want him to draw the connection that his loss of ridership privileges is the baby's fault. Depending on how I deliver this baby, I may not even be able to pick him up for weeks afterward - let alone hitch a ride for extended periods on my body. Besides, I'm assuming that I'll be wearing the baby all cozied up in a wrap so that only leaves my back available for toddler rides anyway.
So, back to my original question, when did you stop wearing your child(ren)? Did you wear your kiddos during pregnancy? When did you stop wearing them if you wore them in pregnancy? Was your older child jealous that the new baby was being worn and they were not? If you had a c/s, did the older child ever want to be worn again once you were able to wear them?
Thursday, July 28, 2011
I'm Back in the Saddle Again!
I thought the Aerosmith song reference is appropriate because I'm finally allowed to get back on the horse. . .so to speak. Giddy-up!
Some more good news from my OB appointment yesterday is that my sex restriction has FINALLY been lifted. I haven't been allowed to have sex since I got a positive pregnancy test because I ended up experiencing over a month of spotting and bleeding. I've continued to have occasional spotting episodes so it's officially been over three months of no sex up in my house. Not only no sex, but total pelvic rest means no masturbation and no orgasms. Nothing, nada, zilch, zip.
As I told my OB at my previous appointment, it's become a no man's land down below. It's been so unused that I'm pretty sure that my daily shower is the only thing keeping the cobwebs out of my c*nt. My special fun zone was totally shut down and out of operation. I was seriously considering rubbing myself against random strangers on the street at one point to see if it would bring at least a tiny measure of sexual satisfaction, but frottage isn't really my thing. That and I don't really want to be labeled as a sex offender.
I mentioned in yesterday's blog post that I still experience spotting episodes. When do I experience spotting? After orgasm. Now, before you think that I've been flouting the pelvic rest rule and engaging in some masturbatory fun, I feel compelled to defend myself and say that I haven't. Only the love and concern that I have for my unborn baby could keep me from going for it on my own. Seriously, this has been a ridiculously long dry spell in my sex life.
So how is it that I'm coming? Well, I've been experiencing spontaneous orgasms in my sleep. Actually, they wake me up out of a sound sleep. I know, I know! I'm a 35-year old middle-aged woman, not a 15-year old teenaged boy. It is what it is and I can't explain it.
My OB was surprised that I'm having what can only be called wet dreams. I told him that it's not like I'm doing it on purpose and I have no idea why it's happening, but that it is distressing because it results in spotting. Of course, if it weren't for the spotting that occurs afterward, I'd be pretty freaking thrilled with myself and mentally giving my snatch a high-five.
After I explained that I'm not intentionally doing anything to make myself come, he casually mentioned that some women would kill to have such a pleasant wake up call and indicated that he's never had a patient tell him that they have a similar experience. I don't disagree that I'm damn lucky that this is happening (again, if it weren't for the spotting, I'd be totally thrilled), but I find it hard to believe that he's never had another patient have spontaneous orgasms in their sleep. He's been an OB/GYN for nearly 30 years and has probably had thousands upon thousands of patients so I can't possibly be the only one! Later, in his office, I pushed him on that point.
He insists that he's never had another patient indicate that they have had a similar occurrence and, due to the design of female anatomy and her sexual response, it's highly unusual to have a spontaneous orgasm with absolutely zero physical stimulation. Yeah, I'm pretty familiar with what it takes to make me come so I already know that. I smirked and nodded my head when he basically told me to not worry about it and just relax & enjoy.
I'm hoping to get some reassurance from readers that spontaneous orgasm is something that happens all the time in pregnancy - even if no one has told my doctor about it. I mean, I can't be that friggin' unusual. . .can I? Speaking anonymously, have you ever had this happen? If you told your doctor about it (frankly, I wouldn't have if it weren't for that stupid spotting), what did they say? My fingers are crossed that I'm not officially titled The World's Horniest Pregnant Woman.
Some more good news from my OB appointment yesterday is that my sex restriction has FINALLY been lifted. I haven't been allowed to have sex since I got a positive pregnancy test because I ended up experiencing over a month of spotting and bleeding. I've continued to have occasional spotting episodes so it's officially been over three months of no sex up in my house. Not only no sex, but total pelvic rest means no masturbation and no orgasms. Nothing, nada, zilch, zip.
As I told my OB at my previous appointment, it's become a no man's land down below. It's been so unused that I'm pretty sure that my daily shower is the only thing keeping the cobwebs out of my c*nt. My special fun zone was totally shut down and out of operation. I was seriously considering rubbing myself against random strangers on the street at one point to see if it would bring at least a tiny measure of sexual satisfaction, but frottage isn't really my thing. That and I don't really want to be labeled as a sex offender.
I mentioned in yesterday's blog post that I still experience spotting episodes. When do I experience spotting? After orgasm. Now, before you think that I've been flouting the pelvic rest rule and engaging in some masturbatory fun, I feel compelled to defend myself and say that I haven't. Only the love and concern that I have for my unborn baby could keep me from going for it on my own. Seriously, this has been a ridiculously long dry spell in my sex life.
So how is it that I'm coming? Well, I've been experiencing spontaneous orgasms in my sleep. Actually, they wake me up out of a sound sleep. I know, I know! I'm a 35-year old middle-aged woman, not a 15-year old teenaged boy. It is what it is and I can't explain it.
My OB was surprised that I'm having what can only be called wet dreams. I told him that it's not like I'm doing it on purpose and I have no idea why it's happening, but that it is distressing because it results in spotting. Of course, if it weren't for the spotting that occurs afterward, I'd be pretty freaking thrilled with myself and mentally giving my snatch a high-five.
After I explained that I'm not intentionally doing anything to make myself come, he casually mentioned that some women would kill to have such a pleasant wake up call and indicated that he's never had a patient tell him that they have a similar experience. I don't disagree that I'm damn lucky that this is happening (again, if it weren't for the spotting, I'd be totally thrilled), but I find it hard to believe that he's never had another patient have spontaneous orgasms in their sleep. He's been an OB/GYN for nearly 30 years and has probably had thousands upon thousands of patients so I can't possibly be the only one! Later, in his office, I pushed him on that point.
He insists that he's never had another patient indicate that they have had a similar occurrence and, due to the design of female anatomy and her sexual response, it's highly unusual to have a spontaneous orgasm with absolutely zero physical stimulation. Yeah, I'm pretty familiar with what it takes to make me come so I already know that. I smirked and nodded my head when he basically told me to not worry about it and just relax & enjoy.
I'm hoping to get some reassurance from readers that spontaneous orgasm is something that happens all the time in pregnancy - even if no one has told my doctor about it. I mean, I can't be that friggin' unusual. . .can I? Speaking anonymously, have you ever had this happen? If you told your doctor about it (frankly, I wouldn't have if it weren't for that stupid spotting), what did they say? My fingers are crossed that I'm not officially titled The World's Horniest Pregnant Woman.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
An Interesting Appointment
I'm 16w5d pregnant now and had a doctor's appointment today. A few interesting things were discussed and I suspect that I'll end up with a few blog posts based on what transpired at today's visit.
We were happy to hear that my baby still has a good & strong heartbeat. My OB was less happy to hear that I still have spotting episodes and he was surprised to hear what happens just prior to this spotting, but more on that tomorrow. Yeah, tomorrow's post will be a doozy. I'm measuring right even though I've only gained two pounds according to their scale. Somewhere between my house and their office I lost two pounds (because I've actually gained four pounds), but I guess there's no need to sweat my weight since he didn't flip out over it or anything.
He asked to do a quick pelvic exam (boy, am I glad that I decided to get friendly with my razor in the shower this morning!) to determine if there was any obvious reason for the continued spotting and, as predicted, found nothing. Well, he found that my cervix is still nice & tightly closed, but that was expected. I almost made a crack about my super-strength cervix and somehow was able to restrain myself. I'm pretty sure that I have the dubious distinction of being his great big horn-dog patient, so I figured there's no need to try to be funny too. Besides, I don't do funny and I really don't do funny when a man who is sort of a stranger is three deep inside me.
So that's it for my post this evening. . .I have some, ahem, long overdue business to attend to. ;)
We were happy to hear that my baby still has a good & strong heartbeat. My OB was less happy to hear that I still have spotting episodes and he was surprised to hear what happens just prior to this spotting, but more on that tomorrow. Yeah, tomorrow's post will be a doozy. I'm measuring right even though I've only gained two pounds according to their scale. Somewhere between my house and their office I lost two pounds (because I've actually gained four pounds), but I guess there's no need to sweat my weight since he didn't flip out over it or anything.
He asked to do a quick pelvic exam (boy, am I glad that I decided to get friendly with my razor in the shower this morning!) to determine if there was any obvious reason for the continued spotting and, as predicted, found nothing. Well, he found that my cervix is still nice & tightly closed, but that was expected. I almost made a crack about my super-strength cervix and somehow was able to restrain myself. I'm pretty sure that I have the dubious distinction of being his great big horn-dog patient, so I figured there's no need to try to be funny too. Besides, I don't do funny and I really don't do funny when a man who is sort of a stranger is three deep inside me.
So that's it for my post this evening. . .I have some, ahem, long overdue business to attend to. ;)
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Bumps, Thumps, & Twinges
I'll be 16-weeks in two days and I think there's some movement afoot. You know the kind of movement I'm talking about; the kind that makes you smile and offers further undeniable proof (besides a heartbeat, of course) that there's a tiny living being inside of your own body. Yep, I'm talking about fetal movement.
It started a couple of weeks ago. It was just a random bump or twinge that I could feel here and there every now and then. It certainly isn't what I remember fetal movement felt like. After all, I was pretty sure that my son was going to kick his way right out of my abdomen toward the end of that pregnancy and I kinda expected a stronger feeling. This was a far more subtle sensation and, had I not been resting when I felt it, it's something I easily could have missed.
Unsure if I was feeling fetal movement or just random gas bubbles, I forgot about it. Until I felt it again. A soft thump inside that wasn't accompanied by any pain. I rolled to my back to feel around and clearly felt my fundus (how's that for your word of the day!) a couple of inches below my belly-button and the hard little lump inside my uterus. I was trying to get baby to give a kick or throw a punch at the pressure of my hand, two things my son would have definitely done, but had no luck so I filed the incident away in my mind in case it happened again.
I've been noticing these bumps, thumps, & twinges for a couple of weeks now. There is no discernible pattern that I can see other than I only feel them when I'm at rest and able to notice that they've actually happened. I have been experiencing a bit of gas lately, thanks to that delightful side effect of pregnancy - a sluggish digestive system, but I'm beginning to think that it might be fetal movement that I'm feeling rather than gas bubbles.
I didn't feel any fetal movement with my son until I was well beyond twenty-weeks so this seems ridiculously early to me if I am indeed feeling fetal movement. What are your thoughts? When did you first feel fetal movement in your pregnancy(ies)?
It started a couple of weeks ago. It was just a random bump or twinge that I could feel here and there every now and then. It certainly isn't what I remember fetal movement felt like. After all, I was pretty sure that my son was going to kick his way right out of my abdomen toward the end of that pregnancy and I kinda expected a stronger feeling. This was a far more subtle sensation and, had I not been resting when I felt it, it's something I easily could have missed.
Unsure if I was feeling fetal movement or just random gas bubbles, I forgot about it. Until I felt it again. A soft thump inside that wasn't accompanied by any pain. I rolled to my back to feel around and clearly felt my fundus (how's that for your word of the day!) a couple of inches below my belly-button and the hard little lump inside my uterus. I was trying to get baby to give a kick or throw a punch at the pressure of my hand, two things my son would have definitely done, but had no luck so I filed the incident away in my mind in case it happened again.
I've been noticing these bumps, thumps, & twinges for a couple of weeks now. There is no discernible pattern that I can see other than I only feel them when I'm at rest and able to notice that they've actually happened. I have been experiencing a bit of gas lately, thanks to that delightful side effect of pregnancy - a sluggish digestive system, but I'm beginning to think that it might be fetal movement that I'm feeling rather than gas bubbles.
I didn't feel any fetal movement with my son until I was well beyond twenty-weeks so this seems ridiculously early to me if I am indeed feeling fetal movement. What are your thoughts? When did you first feel fetal movement in your pregnancy(ies)?
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Six Things I No Longer Worry About in Pregnancy
I was obsessed with a lot of stupid things when I was pregnant with my son. How stupid? See the list of things I'm no longer concerned about and judge for yourself.
My belly button - I was such a total spaz about keeping an innie that I actually would poke my belly button for several minutes each day in an attempt to keep it in. I never did pop an outie, but I can't really say if all my navel poking had anything to do with that outcome. This time around, I just don't care what happens to my belly button because suddenly sporting an outie would hardly be the worst thing I've ever experienced.
Weight gain - I really obsessed over my daily eating while I was PG with my son. I credit that attention with keeping my weight gain to a sensible 27-pounds. You know, I have totally given up any worries about weight this time around and am only eating while following my body's cues of hunger and fullness. I'm also only listening to my body when it comes to what I eat - with the exception of looking for calcium wherever I can handle it. Guess what? I've gained significantly fewer pounds at this point in pregnancy than I did before.
Stretch marks - I didn't get a single stretch mark on my body during pregnancy and that's great, but I did end up with a roadmap of stretch marks on my breasts once my boobs finished growing and breastfeeding began. Those stretch marks used to bug me, but I stopped caring about them when I realized that the only reason I had them is because my breasts grew so heavy with the milk that nourished my baby. I'm proud of what my breasts did and the stretch marks are just a souvenir of a very special time. I'm not saying that I want stretch marks from pregnancy, but I'm not particularly concerned about them either.
Hairy breasts - I don't have dog tits or anything, but sometimes I do get a few of these weird dark hairs around my areolas. I suppose it's a hormonal thing because it's not really a problem when I'm not PG. I used to be mortified by those hairs (as if I walk around topless all the time and everyone can see them or something), but find that simply plucking them out is a solution that easily works. And I guess that I don't really care about random hairs now since I just admitted to having them on a public site.
Acne - I suffered with severe acne as a teenager/young adult and it's a big deal to me when I get even a single pimple. I felt so horrible about the occasional breakout that I'd experience while pregnant that I'd have rather gained an additional 27-pounds of pregnancy weight than have another zit. I don't know if I can thank the progesterone or what, but I have a raging case of bacne right now (with a few facial pimples thrown in for god measure) and it's not that big of a deal because, let's face it, a few zits is hardly the end of the world.
Childbirth - I've previously detailed that a drug-free vaginal birth is like my personal holy grail. I felt like a failure for YEARS not achieving that outcome when I delivered my son. I changed my feelings toward my son's birth a few months ago in the wake of my failed natural miscarriage and I realize now that I just don't care how my children are born as long as they are born healthy and I am able to care for them. Cut out or pushed out, I just don't care.
Have I mellowed out because I'm older? Because I tried so hard to get pregnant? Or because it's old hat when it's the second, third, or forth time around? I don't know. I just find myself thinking about things that I feel matter more than these. You know, things like fetal heartbeats and the like.
What things did you worry about in pregnancy? Did you worry about any of these things? Did you find your concerns were lessened in subsequent pregnancies?
My belly button - I was such a total spaz about keeping an innie that I actually would poke my belly button for several minutes each day in an attempt to keep it in. I never did pop an outie, but I can't really say if all my navel poking had anything to do with that outcome. This time around, I just don't care what happens to my belly button because suddenly sporting an outie would hardly be the worst thing I've ever experienced.
Weight gain - I really obsessed over my daily eating while I was PG with my son. I credit that attention with keeping my weight gain to a sensible 27-pounds. You know, I have totally given up any worries about weight this time around and am only eating while following my body's cues of hunger and fullness. I'm also only listening to my body when it comes to what I eat - with the exception of looking for calcium wherever I can handle it. Guess what? I've gained significantly fewer pounds at this point in pregnancy than I did before.
Stretch marks - I didn't get a single stretch mark on my body during pregnancy and that's great, but I did end up with a roadmap of stretch marks on my breasts once my boobs finished growing and breastfeeding began. Those stretch marks used to bug me, but I stopped caring about them when I realized that the only reason I had them is because my breasts grew so heavy with the milk that nourished my baby. I'm proud of what my breasts did and the stretch marks are just a souvenir of a very special time. I'm not saying that I want stretch marks from pregnancy, but I'm not particularly concerned about them either.
Hairy breasts - I don't have dog tits or anything, but sometimes I do get a few of these weird dark hairs around my areolas. I suppose it's a hormonal thing because it's not really a problem when I'm not PG. I used to be mortified by those hairs (as if I walk around topless all the time and everyone can see them or something), but find that simply plucking them out is a solution that easily works. And I guess that I don't really care about random hairs now since I just admitted to having them on a public site.
Acne - I suffered with severe acne as a teenager/young adult and it's a big deal to me when I get even a single pimple. I felt so horrible about the occasional breakout that I'd experience while pregnant that I'd have rather gained an additional 27-pounds of pregnancy weight than have another zit. I don't know if I can thank the progesterone or what, but I have a raging case of bacne right now (with a few facial pimples thrown in for god measure) and it's not that big of a deal because, let's face it, a few zits is hardly the end of the world.
Childbirth - I've previously detailed that a drug-free vaginal birth is like my personal holy grail. I felt like a failure for YEARS not achieving that outcome when I delivered my son. I changed my feelings toward my son's birth a few months ago in the wake of my failed natural miscarriage and I realize now that I just don't care how my children are born as long as they are born healthy and I am able to care for them. Cut out or pushed out, I just don't care.
Have I mellowed out because I'm older? Because I tried so hard to get pregnant? Or because it's old hat when it's the second, third, or forth time around? I don't know. I just find myself thinking about things that I feel matter more than these. You know, things like fetal heartbeats and the like.
What things did you worry about in pregnancy? Did you worry about any of these things? Did you find your concerns were lessened in subsequent pregnancies?
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
You Can't Keep Good Breasts Down!
I'm currently 14w4d pregnant. Though I went up a few cup sizes by the time I gave birth to my son, I was surprised that my breasts already grew by two cup sizes well before the end of the first trimester with this pregnancy. Hubs thought my twins looked luscious, but he was forbidden from touching them because they were painfully tender. If you've been pregnant, you probably understand. My sweater enhancers are no longer nearly as sore, but I'm thinking he won't be interested in my bodacious ta-tas because of a new development.
I'm leaking.
Yes, my breasts are already leaking. I'm barely in the second trimester and my bras have already been colostrum-stained by that precious liquid gold. I ended up having to wear nursing pads from around the fifth or sixth month on with my son and I'm amazed that my milky fountains have already kicked in hard enough that the overflow is spilling out. Right about now I'm kicking myself in the butt for packing all of my reusable cloth nursing pads - grrr!
It's debatable whether or not my body was built for easy conception and pregnancies, but my breasts sure as heck were built for easy nursing!
If you've been pregnant, when did you notice that your breasts started leaking? For those of you with more than one pregnancy, did you find that second (and subsequent) pregnancies yielded earlier leakage?
I'm leaking.
Yes, my breasts are already leaking. I'm barely in the second trimester and my bras have already been colostrum-stained by that precious liquid gold. I ended up having to wear nursing pads from around the fifth or sixth month on with my son and I'm amazed that my milky fountains have already kicked in hard enough that the overflow is spilling out. Right about now I'm kicking myself in the butt for packing all of my reusable cloth nursing pads - grrr!
It's debatable whether or not my body was built for easy conception and pregnancies, but my breasts sure as heck were built for easy nursing!
* * *
If you've been pregnant, when did you notice that your breasts started leaking? For those of you with more than one pregnancy, did you find that second (and subsequent) pregnancies yielded earlier leakage?
Monday, July 11, 2011
I'm Baaaack! (and possibly grosser than ever)
Guess who's back? I took a looong overdue vacation and gave my blog a break at the same time. Now it's time to shield your kiddo's eyes from your monitor because this blog is back up & running.
I wasn't sure if I'd be allowed to go on this trip since I've been on a travel restriction once this pregnancy began. My doctor made it clear than car travel would not terminate this pregnancy, but since the pregnancy did begin with a solid month of experiencing a majorly bloody mess, he recommended staying close to home so I could see him right away if further problems arose. Considering that I've had spotting after the initial daily bleeding stopped, it seems like it was prudent to follow his advice.
I saw my doctor on the 1st and we not only heard our sweet baby's heartbeat via doppler (I never tire of hearing that sound!), but we also were given the auditory treat of several jarring THWAP! sounds. Yes, that would be my baby kicking the heck out of me. I wouldn't have thought it possible, but this baby seems even more active than my son was in the womb. I might end up with internal bruises by the time 40-weeks rolls around!
The doctor gave a tepid green light to our travel plans so we set out after leaving his office. My husband was in the office with me and I'm glad I had his interpretation of what the doctor actually said versus what I thought I heard or I may not have gone. I really have a bad way of not hearing anything that a doctor says, any doctor, and it really is helpful to have hubs' ears help me out.
I should add that, much to our dismay, my pelvic rest has been ordered to continue. I don't think I've mentioned it in this blog, but I haven't been allowed to have sex since I got a positive pregnancy test and I bled for over a month afterward. I guess my pelvis must need further rest because I've had additional episodes of spotting in the last two weeks (I also did it for several days on vacation), but it really is getting old to not be allowed to sex up my husband. Heck, it was already old once the initial bleeding stopped and I was up for some action. Never let it be said that I don't sacrifice for my children, right?
I've been resting my pelvis according to the doctor's orders, but I find that I have scant spotting after I have an orgasm. No, I'm not getting a little self-love on the side. I'm embarrassed to admit that I've actually been awakened out of a sound sleep from the spasms of an O. Yes, really. Apparently all this pelvic rest is causing my body to behave like an unsatisfied teenaged boy and I'm getting my orgasms wherever I can. . .even if it's only from dreams.
Other than a couple of tearful hormone-fueled meltdowns in front of my family (I'm oh-so-classy, eh?), I had a great trip and feel somewhat refreshed. I only feel somewhat refreshed because I'm actually more fatigued now than I was just a couple of short weeks ago. I can't figure out what the problem is other than I did follow my doctor's orders and discontinued taking the progesterone suppositories (I weaned off vs going cold turkey, for those who are interested) while I was on vacation. So the upside is that my vadge is no longer a constantly drippy suppository-filled mess, but the downside is that I want to sleep all the time.
I've spent months feeling constantly wet down below, courtesy of the progesterone suppositories, and I was looking forward to finally being able to wear panties without a pad to catch the, uh, drippings. It is nice to not wear a pad, but I've discovered that my ladyparts are still a bit on the moist side. I don't know if I'm constantly feeling this sensation because I'm chronically horny of if pregnancy-induced leukorrhea has finally made an appearance. Actually, it could have been there all along for all I know and the melting suppositories just masked what was naturally occurring. It is an uncomfortable feeling, particularly with my history of bleeding and spotting, and sometimes I'm not sure what I might find when I wipe. Honestly though, as long as it isn't pink or red, I breathe a sigh of relief.
I'm over 14-weeks now and, though I've gained less than five pounds, I am inexplicably showing. This makes absolutely zero sense to me and fills me with particular dread because ALL of my maternity clothes are packed and gone. The few clothes that I still have in the house will have to last for another couple of months or I'll have to drag my old bones out to the store and do a bit of shopping before too long - bleh!
I wasn't sure if I'd be allowed to go on this trip since I've been on a travel restriction once this pregnancy began. My doctor made it clear than car travel would not terminate this pregnancy, but since the pregnancy did begin with a solid month of experiencing a majorly bloody mess, he recommended staying close to home so I could see him right away if further problems arose. Considering that I've had spotting after the initial daily bleeding stopped, it seems like it was prudent to follow his advice.
I saw my doctor on the 1st and we not only heard our sweet baby's heartbeat via doppler (I never tire of hearing that sound!), but we also were given the auditory treat of several jarring THWAP! sounds. Yes, that would be my baby kicking the heck out of me. I wouldn't have thought it possible, but this baby seems even more active than my son was in the womb. I might end up with internal bruises by the time 40-weeks rolls around!
The doctor gave a tepid green light to our travel plans so we set out after leaving his office. My husband was in the office with me and I'm glad I had his interpretation of what the doctor actually said versus what I thought I heard or I may not have gone. I really have a bad way of not hearing anything that a doctor says, any doctor, and it really is helpful to have hubs' ears help me out.
I should add that, much to our dismay, my pelvic rest has been ordered to continue. I don't think I've mentioned it in this blog, but I haven't been allowed to have sex since I got a positive pregnancy test and I bled for over a month afterward. I guess my pelvis must need further rest because I've had additional episodes of spotting in the last two weeks (I also did it for several days on vacation), but it really is getting old to not be allowed to sex up my husband. Heck, it was already old once the initial bleeding stopped and I was up for some action. Never let it be said that I don't sacrifice for my children, right?
I've been resting my pelvis according to the doctor's orders, but I find that I have scant spotting after I have an orgasm. No, I'm not getting a little self-love on the side. I'm embarrassed to admit that I've actually been awakened out of a sound sleep from the spasms of an O. Yes, really. Apparently all this pelvic rest is causing my body to behave like an unsatisfied teenaged boy and I'm getting my orgasms wherever I can. . .even if it's only from dreams.
Other than a couple of tearful hormone-fueled meltdowns in front of my family (I'm oh-so-classy, eh?), I had a great trip and feel somewhat refreshed. I only feel somewhat refreshed because I'm actually more fatigued now than I was just a couple of short weeks ago. I can't figure out what the problem is other than I did follow my doctor's orders and discontinued taking the progesterone suppositories (I weaned off vs going cold turkey, for those who are interested) while I was on vacation. So the upside is that my vadge is no longer a constantly drippy suppository-filled mess, but the downside is that I want to sleep all the time.
I've spent months feeling constantly wet down below, courtesy of the progesterone suppositories, and I was looking forward to finally being able to wear panties without a pad to catch the, uh, drippings. It is nice to not wear a pad, but I've discovered that my ladyparts are still a bit on the moist side. I don't know if I'm constantly feeling this sensation because I'm chronically horny of if pregnancy-induced leukorrhea has finally made an appearance. Actually, it could have been there all along for all I know and the melting suppositories just masked what was naturally occurring. It is an uncomfortable feeling, particularly with my history of bleeding and spotting, and sometimes I'm not sure what I might find when I wipe. Honestly though, as long as it isn't pink or red, I breathe a sigh of relief.
I'm over 14-weeks now and, though I've gained less than five pounds, I am inexplicably showing. This makes absolutely zero sense to me and fills me with particular dread because ALL of my maternity clothes are packed and gone. The few clothes that I still have in the house will have to last for another couple of months or I'll have to drag my old bones out to the store and do a bit of shopping before too long - bleh!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)