And if anyone did then they are either unmarried, about to marry, or one of those .002% of couples who have total marital bliss. For that, I feel I should be honest to the best of my ability, and not to sugar coat this. I think many people who go through what we have been through may find comfort in knowing they are not alone and not unique.
It shouldn't come as a surprise (but maybe it will to some) but having gone through everything that we have been through in this past year and less, our marriage took a serious toll. I remember reading once that it was about 70% of married couples who lose a child end up getting a divorce. Initially I thought that idea was ubsurd--I mean how could you go through something so heartwrenching as losing a child and then see your entire family crumble to pieces? It's not those first moments that usually tear you apart. It's what is said, not said, done and not done over the next few days, mostly weeks, and then months that are what start to create a wedge.
Having a child already can put a bit of strain on the marriage. Sleepless nights, exhausted mommiess and daddiess, disagreements about parenting methods (yes-even those ones about how to change a diaper or WHO is to change the diaper for that matter), and the general change of lifestyle make a noticeable impact on the relationship you once had with your spouse. Add anything else into the mix and you have a recipe for conflict.
In our case we already had a son who was just over a year when I got pregnant again. I end up being pregnant with twins which put a considerable amount of burden on my body well before the belly started to bulge. From that point it only continued to get more challenging. I started to rely on Cameron's help more and more as the babies grew within and I was no longer able to safely do typical mommy tasks. THEN add the fact that I was going to MOVE to the States from Japan alone with my toddler son and twins in belly. Thank God we were going to Albuquerque--my home town. Cameron stayed behind weeks to close us out of our house and do the majority of the move process. It wasn't but 10 days before the boys were born that Cameron even arrived in the states! Our house was empty. I was MISERABLE. I could not get more than 40 minutes of sleep at a time. Then the boys were born. Jeremiah had no heartbeat. Micah was born 10 weeks far too soon. Either way I was empty handed, with an empty womb from a beautiful pregnancy that ended in tragedy far too early. Torn by grief, shock, suprise, guilt, I could not find one place that felt right. I was either with Micah in the hospital, at home with Isaac and my family, or anywhere and everywhere that my baby boy Jeremiah was not. Our major home good shipment from Japan arrived the Monday--thats 4 days-- after the boys were born. All this was like the largest, most emotionally and mentally destructive tornado we had ever imagined to hit our lives. We were completely turned upside down. What was already a challenging and somewhat stressful situation (moving, expecting twins, new job for the hubby) had been multiplied ten fold.
No surprise then, that we had some issues. Now, for honor of my husband I will not go into great deal as to what was said in those days, weeks, and months. And I will say that the initial first few days my husband and I were very supportive and comforting of each other. We did the best we could. I definitely felt like I had to be there for my husband when he did not know what to do with himself. Yet as time passed it got harder as our different ways of dealing with the situation became a source of contention and hurt.
As a women, we have revisit and reevaluate our experiences and grief. Men, I believe since I can't think like one, tend to want to have things be fixed, solved, and over with. I don't think they feel comfortable in their emotions, especially the emotions of grief related to losing a child. For that reason, I do not believe my husband was able to continue on the way he wanted to because there was no way to ignore the sheer pain of losing Jeremiah. His task was complicated by having to start a new job on a new aircraft after all that we had endured. For that, I tried to give him my best understanding. Still, it does not erase the seemingly cold-hearted comments. The anger that ended up being directly solely in my direction. The insensitive notions. The pressure that was put on me to complete the irrelevent tasks, that I believe he thought would help him feel better. An example of that would be how he stressed, "pinged", and complained about how we HAD to get our boxes unpacked. I was exhausted. I was bouncing back and forth between NICU and home, recovering from twin pregnancy and twin BIRTH, and of course all the fatigue and depression I was battling as my hormones nose-dived and as my grief sunk my heart and soul into the depths of despair. I saved all my energy to be there for my son in the NICU. To be there and be as joyful as possible for Isaac, who God Bless his soul, had no real idea why mommy was suddenly gone so much and so much more sad. I just did not have it in me to fight back and defend myself against the misguided will of my husband.
And then there is that. The very fact that I had to defend myself against my husband--the one who should be there for me as a protector and companion and instead became my enemy during these trying times, created the deepest cutting wounds in my marriage to date by far. As a result, I turned to avoidance, distance, shielding, and general complacency when it came to matters between my husband and I. Whenever I noticed the complaining and nagging (which is what I felt it was) starting up I would walk away before he could finish his thoughts. I had no more tolerance. No more patience. No more energy. I felt defeated. My heart was as raw as raw could get. How is it then that my very own husband was pulling whatever was left intact to itty bitty pieces. The trust was gone. And it continued well after Micah came home from the hospital. My heart learned over and over that it could no longer even handle to be vulnerable again--maybe never. I knew that it was the Enemy trying to kick us hard when we were already down but at that point I didn't care why it was happening. I didn't want to endure any more emotional pain.
Now, this is not to say that I never did anything to him. Yes I spoke unkind words. Yes I lost my temper a time or ten. Yes I did start pushing him away. I still felt justified. I still do looking back. Maybe not for everything I did, but when I consider how much I had to do and how much I actually was doing for my family and especially my children, you just can't blame me for defending and protecting myself. It was the only way to survive.
Needless to say, we've had a rough go these last seven months. All this damage in the first 5 months or so was, and is, hard to recover from. As my hope, trust, and patience was nearly burried beyond oblivion, I started to live a guarded life. As I became more guarded, more callous and practically uneffected my husband (who was now also recouping from the loss of Jeremiah as well as adjusting to his new job) now felt he wanted to mend our marriage. He truly put in hard thought effort to do what he thought needed to be done to fix it. But for me, it was almost too late. He didn't really get it, as most men don't. He was to focused on the present, i.e. our lack of emotional let alone physical intimacy. But what I needed was healing from what caused it. It took a long time and many painful discussions to bring these things to the surface. And it took many times before my husband really began to understand. Now it came the time for me to forgive. Forgiving is never easy, especially when your sinning husband (I however am perfect and never sin ;) ) continues to make many of the same mistakes, albeit less intense. My guarded heart did not want to let go.
I could go on and on with details and probably write a novel about what a rough journey we have been on this past seven months. I will say however that it was not by my own power that I was able to forgive my husband and move forward. I regularly had to ask God to help me. Help me forgive. Help me make the right choice. Help me actually reach out to my husband even when I rather push him away further and further from my broken, trampled heart. We had to move forward, for us and especially our children. I still loved and love my husband even when I felt too distant and shielded to care if I did or not. Forgiveness and strength, given only to us by the Lord himself, are what have helped us through this rough patch--okay maybe it's more of a trecherous field as opposed to a "patch".
Today, I feel like I can feel the light again. It's like we are walking out of the cave of marital darkness and into the sun again. Let me tell you, it feels so good to have the warmth of the sun shining on my face again. (Cue Johnny Nash's "I Can See Clearly Now") I know we aren't done mending our relationship--it is a process, and yes I know there will be many trials again to endure. However I feel pretty confident that we have finally turned the corner for the better and I am really beginning to feel close with my husband again. The moral of the story for me is that it's ok to stand your ground to protect yourself but it is just as important to constantly pursue peace and to reestablish trust--and to keep God with you every step of the way.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Monday, May 16, 2011
One Month Hiatus Over
One whole month without posting anything. I even managed to be scarce on FB. I partly blame it on this crappy old lap top. I partly blame it on going on our trip to AZ. The nice and sunny days are to blame. I started my Dog Training courses a month ago so there's one more thing. Oh yeah, and I'm a mom of two and three dogs. So forgive me if I left you high and dry ;). I know you missed me.
Now, a month later, I have about a thousand different things I could write about. I could write about our trip. I could write about seeing old friends. I could write about driving cross state lines with kiddos. I could of gone the Politico route and talked about Osama being zapped by Seals. I know I have my opinions about all that stuff---but I used to be much more outspoken about politics, now I just keep to myself as I have realized it's an energy sapping, hair pulling, kind of business. Isaac and Micah have both changed so much I definitely have stuff to talk about for them. I could get deeper with things I have been mulling over and have wanted to write about for some time.
So I guess this is just me thinking about all the things I could write about. There really are so many. Stay tuned for some pretty good postings to come. Hiatus is over.
Now, a month later, I have about a thousand different things I could write about. I could write about our trip. I could write about seeing old friends. I could write about driving cross state lines with kiddos. I could of gone the Politico route and talked about Osama being zapped by Seals. I know I have my opinions about all that stuff---but I used to be much more outspoken about politics, now I just keep to myself as I have realized it's an energy sapping, hair pulling, kind of business. Isaac and Micah have both changed so much I definitely have stuff to talk about for them. I could get deeper with things I have been mulling over and have wanted to write about for some time.
So I guess this is just me thinking about all the things I could write about. There really are so many. Stay tuned for some pretty good postings to come. Hiatus is over.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Micah's Neurologist Appointment
So way back when Micah was in the NICU they scheduled him an appointment with a neurologist for April---back then it seemed like forever away. Well forever is here so today was his appointment. I was kind of dreading it--nobody wants to go to a neurologist for their own kid. I was afraid of what they might say, especially since Micah seems so normal, I just didn't want to be hit with a surprise bomb if you know what I mean.
As always, I will back track a little. You might be wondering why he even has an appointment. When they are in NICU they do head ultrasounds on the babies frequently to check for brain bleeds, which is generally pretty common among early preemies because their brains are still immature. Micah had a Grade 1 brain bleed on the right side, which was basically the most minimal version of brain bleed you can have and I was told by the doctors that for his gestational age at birth it was basically like never even having a brain bleed. That was a relief. He had another ultrasound about 3-4 weeks later to see how the brain bleed was doing, and it had gone away. Another relief. What was very unsettling was the new news: he had cystic "PVL" and if I quote the NICU doctor "not what you want to see." I was sick to my stomach. They told me it could mean anything from Micah having no issues, minor learning disabilities to cerebral palsy and total mental retardation. One of the worst things about it was there was no way to know then, only time would tell. We were told things like the brain is "plastic" meaning it can rewire itself. I saw the scans and to me, a very much non-expert, it seemed like his cysts were pretty tiny so I hoped it was just a mild case giving him a better prognosis.
I educated myself and did the google-until-you-have-a-nervous-breakdown thing. It was horrible. I was always worried. I hyper analyzed anything about him. Some things happened to ease my fears, a) Developmental Eval came to see him around his due date and said he was advanced in many things b) he smiled around 7 weeks old (adjusted) and has been super smiley ever since c) he has reached nearly all of his developmental milestone nearly on time or early...in fact he is advanced in many areas. Not to mention he has ALWAYS been described as "alert", even when he was so very tiny in the NICU. Those things have reassured me so much. I was just afraid that maybe I was missing something major by being so optimistic.
Back to today's appointment. We showed up to a nice little waiting room, all decked out for kids and pretty cool actually. The nurse brought us in, weighed him, measured his head etc and got a few details from us about him. I knew I was in the right place because when she saw his purple Gentian Violet tongue she said "He's got a Chow tongue." Ah, a fellow dog person. ;) The doc came in and she was happy and friendly and totally fell in love with how adorable Micah is (how could you not).
She checked him out played with him a little and did all the little testy things evaluaters do to babies. Checked his reflexes, watch his eyes track, pulled him up by his hands, checked his grip, got him to smile, bear weight on his legs...stuff like that. She was very happy with him. He did not have high reflexes which is good since high reflexes can be a sign of high tone (if you are a preemie parent you know all this kind of stuff). The only issue we talked about, and we already knew, was that his left thumb tends to want to tuck in to his hand. The physical therapist saw that and told us to just massage his thumb. I had been doing that and he has been opening it easily, grabbing stuff, keeping his thumb out and holding his thumb outside of his fist like he does with his other hand. She said it's great that he is doing that. She called it a "soft sign" meaning it's nothing major, and that it is mild, as opposed to never wanting to open his hand and only going back to the same fisted position once you let go. Overall she was very pleased and said that she believes that he will be completely normal.
We also discussed his actual brain. We talked about the brain bleed and such and how she wasn't sure why he would have bilateral PVL (meaning he had small cysts on each side) if he had the brain bleed on just the one side. I brought up that he had an APGAR of 1/7 (Isaac was a 9/9) and that probably had to do with it. PVL is caused by a lack of oxyen to the brain...and since he was not born screaming and breathing, and had to be intubated I'm pretty sure that is when he would have had any damage done. I don't think the NICU doctors wanted to bring that up because it might make it look like it was their fault (I don't think it is). She agreed that the APGAR was probably why he had Bilateral PVL. Regardless, she says that it's apparent that he is very intelligent and doing well and normal which is the best you can hope for. He even has a higher head to body ratio, meaning he has a big noggin for his little body. She said that neurologists tend to make a big deal out of head to body ratio and head circumference because it usually predicts intellegence. She said it's not necessarily that a huge kid with a huge head, just the head size compared to body size. That was also reassuring.
She was so comforting, personable, and knowledgable. I wish she could be my pediatrician. Not only that but she spent over an hour with us, which was nice to not be rushed in and out of there. Oh, and she showed me a picture of her dog! Man I REALLY wish she could be our pedi.
Praise God for answering my many heartfelt prayers---and those from all of you around the world who were praying for Micah. He really is doing amazing and every day is such a blessing.
As always, I will back track a little. You might be wondering why he even has an appointment. When they are in NICU they do head ultrasounds on the babies frequently to check for brain bleeds, which is generally pretty common among early preemies because their brains are still immature. Micah had a Grade 1 brain bleed on the right side, which was basically the most minimal version of brain bleed you can have and I was told by the doctors that for his gestational age at birth it was basically like never even having a brain bleed. That was a relief. He had another ultrasound about 3-4 weeks later to see how the brain bleed was doing, and it had gone away. Another relief. What was very unsettling was the new news: he had cystic "PVL" and if I quote the NICU doctor "not what you want to see." I was sick to my stomach. They told me it could mean anything from Micah having no issues, minor learning disabilities to cerebral palsy and total mental retardation. One of the worst things about it was there was no way to know then, only time would tell. We were told things like the brain is "plastic" meaning it can rewire itself. I saw the scans and to me, a very much non-expert, it seemed like his cysts were pretty tiny so I hoped it was just a mild case giving him a better prognosis.
I educated myself and did the google-until-you-have-a-nervous-breakdown thing. It was horrible. I was always worried. I hyper analyzed anything about him. Some things happened to ease my fears, a) Developmental Eval came to see him around his due date and said he was advanced in many things b) he smiled around 7 weeks old (adjusted) and has been super smiley ever since c) he has reached nearly all of his developmental milestone nearly on time or early...in fact he is advanced in many areas. Not to mention he has ALWAYS been described as "alert", even when he was so very tiny in the NICU. Those things have reassured me so much. I was just afraid that maybe I was missing something major by being so optimistic.
Back to today's appointment. We showed up to a nice little waiting room, all decked out for kids and pretty cool actually. The nurse brought us in, weighed him, measured his head etc and got a few details from us about him. I knew I was in the right place because when she saw his purple Gentian Violet tongue she said "He's got a Chow tongue." Ah, a fellow dog person. ;) The doc came in and she was happy and friendly and totally fell in love with how adorable Micah is (how could you not).
She checked him out played with him a little and did all the little testy things evaluaters do to babies. Checked his reflexes, watch his eyes track, pulled him up by his hands, checked his grip, got him to smile, bear weight on his legs...stuff like that. She was very happy with him. He did not have high reflexes which is good since high reflexes can be a sign of high tone (if you are a preemie parent you know all this kind of stuff). The only issue we talked about, and we already knew, was that his left thumb tends to want to tuck in to his hand. The physical therapist saw that and told us to just massage his thumb. I had been doing that and he has been opening it easily, grabbing stuff, keeping his thumb out and holding his thumb outside of his fist like he does with his other hand. She said it's great that he is doing that. She called it a "soft sign" meaning it's nothing major, and that it is mild, as opposed to never wanting to open his hand and only going back to the same fisted position once you let go. Overall she was very pleased and said that she believes that he will be completely normal.
We also discussed his actual brain. We talked about the brain bleed and such and how she wasn't sure why he would have bilateral PVL (meaning he had small cysts on each side) if he had the brain bleed on just the one side. I brought up that he had an APGAR of 1/7 (Isaac was a 9/9) and that probably had to do with it. PVL is caused by a lack of oxyen to the brain...and since he was not born screaming and breathing, and had to be intubated I'm pretty sure that is when he would have had any damage done. I don't think the NICU doctors wanted to bring that up because it might make it look like it was their fault (I don't think it is). She agreed that the APGAR was probably why he had Bilateral PVL. Regardless, she says that it's apparent that he is very intelligent and doing well and normal which is the best you can hope for. He even has a higher head to body ratio, meaning he has a big noggin for his little body. She said that neurologists tend to make a big deal out of head to body ratio and head circumference because it usually predicts intellegence. She said it's not necessarily that a huge kid with a huge head, just the head size compared to body size. That was also reassuring.
She was so comforting, personable, and knowledgable. I wish she could be my pediatrician. Not only that but she spent over an hour with us, which was nice to not be rushed in and out of there. Oh, and she showed me a picture of her dog! Man I REALLY wish she could be our pedi.
Praise God for answering my many heartfelt prayers---and those from all of you around the world who were praying for Micah. He really is doing amazing and every day is such a blessing.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
H1N1 Vaccine To Blame?
Could it be a twin killer?
Shocking title I know, but I feel like this is very important. I don't really know what to do with this new bit of information. I can't say for sure if it was due to the shot, or if we had lost him before I even got it. I don't know. Not knowing is a killer. In more ways than one.
Ok. So to explain further, last night I was parousing on Facebook and one of my friends posted a link about the mercury in vaccines and how they could trigger autism. I had heard this a long time ago and then I had heard it was disproved. Now it seems like newer evidence is out there to re-prove it. Regardless, I never got far enough in the article to even read the research...because my eyes stopped dead in their tracks and my soull buckled to it's knees when I read this:
"Swine flu vaccines contain Polysorbate 80, an agent linked with infertility in mice, which may extend to infertility in humans. There are 3,587 reports from women who lost their babies very shortly after getting the H1N1 swine flu vaccine, causing many to question the safety of this vaccine."
I followed the link to the article and read it. I felt like my blood suddenly turned to concrete. I was petrified with shock, what if, confusion, revelation. A horrible, horrible revelation.
One of the doctors had thought Jeremiah had passed due to Twin to Twin Transfusion (TTTS), the doctor, who was a specialist, had never seen them in ultrasound before (those of you may know my Tricare Insurance/Referral Process story of woe, those that don't will have to wait for another blog on another day). I was pretty convinced that despite his medical opinion, it was not TTTS. At 22 weeks gestation we had the perfect ultrasound. Micah was perfect. Jeremiah was perfect. Fluid levels, blood flow. Heck they were both measuring almost exact... the doctor there noted how "rare" that is to be so similar. I asked her about TTTS, having read up on identicals sharing a placenta, and she said that if it was bad we would have seen it well before now. So having the new doctor who had only seen Jeremiah already long gone in ultrasound, isn't the best source of truth in my opinion. Jeremiah was just .5 inches shorter than Micah and weighed 2lbs, once Micah had lost all his fluid from birth he weighed 2lbs 6oz at the smallest. So it hadn't been that long. I don't believe that TTTS was the reason at all.
Anyways, after 22wks I moved to the states, dicked around with referrals and FINALLY (after battling, tooth, nail, and tears with Tricare) went to my first OB appt in the states. October 18th, 2010. I was 28 weeks pregnant with identical twin boys. I fought for more ultrasounds. I cried for more. But they were all booked. I should have gone to the doctors directly and pleaded...but I didn't. Anyways, back to my appt. I was getting pretty uncomfortable by now and that was normal. Everything at my appt was good, they both had strong heart beats in the 140s. Or so we think. The doctor highly recommended I go get the flu shot, which is paired with the H1N1 vaccine. I had never had or wanted the vaccine before. I refused to get it when I was pregnant with Isaac in Okinawa. They told me that I could die or lose my babies if I were to get Swine Flu, and being in the States I felt like it was more likely to get sick. So I went ahead and got the shot. I was ensured that it was safe for pregnant women. Heck, pregnant women are considered priority. I felt like I was making the best decision for the well being of my babies.
Or so I thought. 10 days later, to the day of my shot, I would be giving birth to my stillborn son. He could have been gone for approximately 1-2weeks. 10 days falls right in that mix. Yes we had two heartbeats on doppler on the 18th. But it could of been just one. After all, I spent 4 hours in L&D two days after the shot because of contractions (that were just braxton hicks) without them knowing there was only one heart beat. At 28 weeks it's hard to track one kid let alone two with monitors. Then I spent an entire night on the 27th, with MULTIPLE doctors, techs, and nurses trying to get both boys on the monitors at once. While using ultrasound to do so. They still had no Idea Jeremiah was gone. The only person to find that was a specialist with his big ole machine. The only way I knew, without ever knowing, was the pain in my right side ribs from Jeremiah's body pushed up, with little to no fluid left around him. All along I thought that was just him kicking the crap out of my ribs. So was he alive on the 18th, when I got the shot? It's hard to say. I can't remember when my ribs started hurting. I know we had lost him around then, because shortly after that appt, after my husband had came back from Okinawa to meet up with us, is when it all started to change. I got more miserable, more in pain and my stomach seemed to grow twice as big overnight. Everything went to hell. My skin was so taught is shone like a mirror. My stomach looked a little lopsided (from Micah's growing amniotic fluid levels-again-I didn't know this). I could not sleep laying down, and hardly sitting up. In a few days time I went from uncomfortably pregnant with twins to down right suffering in perpetual misery.
I have come to accept that things happen out of my control. But to feel like maybe it was a decision that I made to get the shot, even if my intentions were to protect them, that could of led to his death. Ugh. The thought sits in my stomach like rotten milk. I should have went with my gut instinct. I should have refused the shot like I had done time and time before.
Even still, I cannot change the past. I will not let this bring me down again. There are a lot of things I would change about how and what happened if I had the chance. Getting the shot would be one of them. I will not let this grab hold of me. I will not let the Enemy bring me down. I will however let myself deal with this new bit of information. I can't just ignore it. It hurts. Bad. But the one thing I can do is refuse to ever get a stupid shot like the flu shot again, especially while pregnant. One time is all it takes to change the world as I know it.
And the biggest issue for me now is...why do they not warn you about the fact that there are 3,600 reported cases of miscarriage and pregnancy loss associated with this vaccine? Isn't that something they should HAVE to warn you about? Be wise. If you are pregnant, I HIGHLY recommend you refuse to get the H1N1. It's not worth the risk.
source:
http://www.chicagonow.com/blogs/fighting-autism-and-winning/2010/09/cdc-allegedly-falsifies-reports-ignores-up-to-3587-miscarriages-from-h1n1-vaccine.html
Shocking title I know, but I feel like this is very important. I don't really know what to do with this new bit of information. I can't say for sure if it was due to the shot, or if we had lost him before I even got it. I don't know. Not knowing is a killer. In more ways than one.
Ok. So to explain further, last night I was parousing on Facebook and one of my friends posted a link about the mercury in vaccines and how they could trigger autism. I had heard this a long time ago and then I had heard it was disproved. Now it seems like newer evidence is out there to re-prove it. Regardless, I never got far enough in the article to even read the research...because my eyes stopped dead in their tracks and my soull buckled to it's knees when I read this:
"Swine flu vaccines contain Polysorbate 80, an agent linked with infertility in mice, which may extend to infertility in humans. There are 3,587 reports from women who lost their babies very shortly after getting the H1N1 swine flu vaccine, causing many to question the safety of this vaccine."
I followed the link to the article and read it. I felt like my blood suddenly turned to concrete. I was petrified with shock, what if, confusion, revelation. A horrible, horrible revelation.
One of the doctors had thought Jeremiah had passed due to Twin to Twin Transfusion (TTTS), the doctor, who was a specialist, had never seen them in ultrasound before (those of you may know my Tricare Insurance/Referral Process story of woe, those that don't will have to wait for another blog on another day). I was pretty convinced that despite his medical opinion, it was not TTTS. At 22 weeks gestation we had the perfect ultrasound. Micah was perfect. Jeremiah was perfect. Fluid levels, blood flow. Heck they were both measuring almost exact... the doctor there noted how "rare" that is to be so similar. I asked her about TTTS, having read up on identicals sharing a placenta, and she said that if it was bad we would have seen it well before now. So having the new doctor who had only seen Jeremiah already long gone in ultrasound, isn't the best source of truth in my opinion. Jeremiah was just .5 inches shorter than Micah and weighed 2lbs, once Micah had lost all his fluid from birth he weighed 2lbs 6oz at the smallest. So it hadn't been that long. I don't believe that TTTS was the reason at all.
Anyways, after 22wks I moved to the states, dicked around with referrals and FINALLY (after battling, tooth, nail, and tears with Tricare) went to my first OB appt in the states. October 18th, 2010. I was 28 weeks pregnant with identical twin boys. I fought for more ultrasounds. I cried for more. But they were all booked. I should have gone to the doctors directly and pleaded...but I didn't. Anyways, back to my appt. I was getting pretty uncomfortable by now and that was normal. Everything at my appt was good, they both had strong heart beats in the 140s. Or so we think. The doctor highly recommended I go get the flu shot, which is paired with the H1N1 vaccine. I had never had or wanted the vaccine before. I refused to get it when I was pregnant with Isaac in Okinawa. They told me that I could die or lose my babies if I were to get Swine Flu, and being in the States I felt like it was more likely to get sick. So I went ahead and got the shot. I was ensured that it was safe for pregnant women. Heck, pregnant women are considered priority. I felt like I was making the best decision for the well being of my babies.
Or so I thought. 10 days later, to the day of my shot, I would be giving birth to my stillborn son. He could have been gone for approximately 1-2weeks. 10 days falls right in that mix. Yes we had two heartbeats on doppler on the 18th. But it could of been just one. After all, I spent 4 hours in L&D two days after the shot because of contractions (that were just braxton hicks) without them knowing there was only one heart beat. At 28 weeks it's hard to track one kid let alone two with monitors. Then I spent an entire night on the 27th, with MULTIPLE doctors, techs, and nurses trying to get both boys on the monitors at once. While using ultrasound to do so. They still had no Idea Jeremiah was gone. The only person to find that was a specialist with his big ole machine. The only way I knew, without ever knowing, was the pain in my right side ribs from Jeremiah's body pushed up, with little to no fluid left around him. All along I thought that was just him kicking the crap out of my ribs. So was he alive on the 18th, when I got the shot? It's hard to say. I can't remember when my ribs started hurting. I know we had lost him around then, because shortly after that appt, after my husband had came back from Okinawa to meet up with us, is when it all started to change. I got more miserable, more in pain and my stomach seemed to grow twice as big overnight. Everything went to hell. My skin was so taught is shone like a mirror. My stomach looked a little lopsided (from Micah's growing amniotic fluid levels-again-I didn't know this). I could not sleep laying down, and hardly sitting up. In a few days time I went from uncomfortably pregnant with twins to down right suffering in perpetual misery.
I have come to accept that things happen out of my control. But to feel like maybe it was a decision that I made to get the shot, even if my intentions were to protect them, that could of led to his death. Ugh. The thought sits in my stomach like rotten milk. I should have went with my gut instinct. I should have refused the shot like I had done time and time before.
Even still, I cannot change the past. I will not let this bring me down again. There are a lot of things I would change about how and what happened if I had the chance. Getting the shot would be one of them. I will not let this grab hold of me. I will not let the Enemy bring me down. I will however let myself deal with this new bit of information. I can't just ignore it. It hurts. Bad. But the one thing I can do is refuse to ever get a stupid shot like the flu shot again, especially while pregnant. One time is all it takes to change the world as I know it.
And the biggest issue for me now is...why do they not warn you about the fact that there are 3,600 reported cases of miscarriage and pregnancy loss associated with this vaccine? Isn't that something they should HAVE to warn you about? Be wise. If you are pregnant, I HIGHLY recommend you refuse to get the H1N1. It's not worth the risk.
source:
http://www.chicagonow.com/blogs/fighting-autism-and-winning/2010/09/cdc-allegedly-falsifies-reports-ignores-up-to-3587-miscarriages-from-h1n1-vaccine.html
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Butterfly
Today was a good day as for as mom-ness goes. I was super tired this morning, probably worn out from all the cleaning I did yesterday, and since I must brag I'll tell you that I sanitized the entire down stairs bathroom, washed all the doorknobs and shined them, wiped down the doors and hinges, sanitized all switches, cleaned the kitchen, did all the dishes, swept the tile and mopped it, dusted the furniture, did 2 loads of laundry, cooked 2 meals, took the kids AND the dogs on a walk, vacuumed and CLEANED the carpet! Not only that but my husband and I managed to watch Inception while both Micah and Isaac took a nap. Nice! So that was all yesterday, and needless to say I was wiped out from all that stuff. And then when you don't get a good night's sleep because a baby is waking you up all night, it kinda doesn't help.
So starting out feeling like an old hag, you would think today would have been very "blah". But it wasn't. The hubby came home and I got to shower, well actually I took a bath. Then Micah came to join me and get a bath. That was fun. I'll say it's a lot easier to wash your baby when you are in the tub. We played and floated him around and he seemed to like it. I wondered a little if the feeling of being in warm water would bring flashback memories of being in my belly. Then of course that led to other sad thoughts but I just let it pass on by. So then we ran some errands, got Isaac some new shoes because his feet are growing. He wanted to try on hats at Old Navy because I put one on Micah. It was cute. Nice to be out as a family without having to worry too much about a crying baby (he never did) or RSV now that it's warmer.
So when we got home I unloaded Isaac and we came into the garage and right there on the rug was a gorgeous yellow butterfly. One of those big ones that everyone pictures when they think of a butterfly. I showed Isaac and first he goes to grab it but I pull him back to show him. He thought it was funny that it moved it's wings. He's never really seen a butterfly before...well seen one and realized what it was. You could tell it was still wet, like it had hatched from its cocoon in the garage somewhere and was airing out its wings. Those big beautiful wings seemed foreign to the butterfly, as it fluttered one side and then the other. It then walked along the rug...probably used to doing so during those caterpillar days. It's really quite amazing that such a beautiful and delicate being can come from such a funky blob of fur and stubby legs. I guess that can be used for a metephor for a lot of things in life. I'll let you pick yours.
So I figured the garage probably wasn't the ideal starting point for this little guy's life, so Isaac and I found a piece of cardboard to urge him to crawl on to. We walked him out to the grass and I set the cardboard down and he walked off, wings flapping a little in the breeze. Hopefully this way the sun and breeze will help his wings dry off. Isaac had a set of huge rubber bugs that his Mymy gave him, one of which was a big yellow and black butterfly similar to the one we found. I brought it to him so he can associate them together, so that he knows a real butterfly is not a fake plasticky thing but something real, alive, and delicate. Of course his 2 year old understanding of delicacy got about as far as attempting to wack the real butterfly with the fake one (don't worry, I saved him). So we backed up a little and then waved good bye to Mr. Butterfly. It was a sweet moment to watch my young son have a little bond with a butterfly, and to hear his sweet little voice say "bye bye bu-erfly". We shut the garage door and waved bye once more, Isaac wouldn't stop until the door was shut.
The cutest part I think, that touched my heart the most, was that he asked me two more times to go see the butterfly. Of course, I was sure that hours had gone by and butterfly must have gone by now, but we went out anyways. I'd rather him go see for himself and let me try to explain it then just let him keep wanting to see. Poor kid needed some closure. He looked around the grass for a little while and asked me where the "bu-erfly go?" I did my best to explain it, using my hands to be the butterfly flying a way. I don't think he got it so much as he just moved on to other things (laying in a bush). Such a cute little mind he has.
Hopefully we'll see more butterflies soon.
(P.S. I am curious if we might have accidently stowed some butterfly cocoons from Japan, and that maybe this was a Japanese butterfly? Is that possible? It looked awfully familiar to the ones they had there. Hah.)
So starting out feeling like an old hag, you would think today would have been very "blah". But it wasn't. The hubby came home and I got to shower, well actually I took a bath. Then Micah came to join me and get a bath. That was fun. I'll say it's a lot easier to wash your baby when you are in the tub. We played and floated him around and he seemed to like it. I wondered a little if the feeling of being in warm water would bring flashback memories of being in my belly. Then of course that led to other sad thoughts but I just let it pass on by. So then we ran some errands, got Isaac some new shoes because his feet are growing. He wanted to try on hats at Old Navy because I put one on Micah. It was cute. Nice to be out as a family without having to worry too much about a crying baby (he never did) or RSV now that it's warmer.
So when we got home I unloaded Isaac and we came into the garage and right there on the rug was a gorgeous yellow butterfly. One of those big ones that everyone pictures when they think of a butterfly. I showed Isaac and first he goes to grab it but I pull him back to show him. He thought it was funny that it moved it's wings. He's never really seen a butterfly before...well seen one and realized what it was. You could tell it was still wet, like it had hatched from its cocoon in the garage somewhere and was airing out its wings. Those big beautiful wings seemed foreign to the butterfly, as it fluttered one side and then the other. It then walked along the rug...probably used to doing so during those caterpillar days. It's really quite amazing that such a beautiful and delicate being can come from such a funky blob of fur and stubby legs. I guess that can be used for a metephor for a lot of things in life. I'll let you pick yours.
(not the actual butterfly but it looked kind of like this- more yellow) Darn. I should have taken a picture.
So I figured the garage probably wasn't the ideal starting point for this little guy's life, so Isaac and I found a piece of cardboard to urge him to crawl on to. We walked him out to the grass and I set the cardboard down and he walked off, wings flapping a little in the breeze. Hopefully this way the sun and breeze will help his wings dry off. Isaac had a set of huge rubber bugs that his Mymy gave him, one of which was a big yellow and black butterfly similar to the one we found. I brought it to him so he can associate them together, so that he knows a real butterfly is not a fake plasticky thing but something real, alive, and delicate. Of course his 2 year old understanding of delicacy got about as far as attempting to wack the real butterfly with the fake one (don't worry, I saved him). So we backed up a little and then waved good bye to Mr. Butterfly. It was a sweet moment to watch my young son have a little bond with a butterfly, and to hear his sweet little voice say "bye bye bu-erfly". We shut the garage door and waved bye once more, Isaac wouldn't stop until the door was shut.
The cutest part I think, that touched my heart the most, was that he asked me two more times to go see the butterfly. Of course, I was sure that hours had gone by and butterfly must have gone by now, but we went out anyways. I'd rather him go see for himself and let me try to explain it then just let him keep wanting to see. Poor kid needed some closure. He looked around the grass for a little while and asked me where the "bu-erfly go?" I did my best to explain it, using my hands to be the butterfly flying a way. I don't think he got it so much as he just moved on to other things (laying in a bush). Such a cute little mind he has.
Hopefully we'll see more butterflies soon.
(P.S. I am curious if we might have accidently stowed some butterfly cocoons from Japan, and that maybe this was a Japanese butterfly? Is that possible? It looked awfully familiar to the ones they had there. Hah.)
The One Question I Hate
I'm not going to lie. It's been off and on rough for me the last few weeks. Ever since Isaac's birthday was coming around the corner I realized that on the 28th, Micah would be 5 months old. Five whole months. More importantly it's been 5 whole months since I found out the awful, no good, very bad news: that his twin brother, our son, Jeremiah was gone. Sometimes I feel like that day was a very bad dream. I hate that Micah's birthday is blended with grief. I wish I could say it was one of the best days of my life. It wasn't. It was one of the worst and scariest. Maybe if I were to look at it positively I could say it was the strongest day of my life. The day I had to face such heartbreak and fear for the life of my surviving twin, born so very early. The day I had to be strong for my son, for my husband, for my family. I had to rally people together. To be happy for Micah. To have enough resolve to be able to go into that delivery room and birth my two sons, knowing full well that one was gone and the other was still so early...well I knew there was danger for him and for me.
I guess all those memories are flooding back. They are compounded by the unavoidable reminders of what could of been. That viral video going around with the twin boys talking to each other or doing karate (I haven't watched it, I'm just going by comments) is one example. Another are the friends who have twins that are experiencing everything there is to go with having twins. It just breaks my heart. For Micah. For me. For what should have been.
I really wish this was easy to move on from. I'm not walking around in self pitty all the time. But I still hurt. I can't help but look at Micah and see double. For that I will always be grateful, that they were identical, because then at the very least I can try to imagine just what Jeremiah would have looked like during his life here on earth.
And that leads me to my least favorite question, the one I've begun to hate. "How old is he?" I hear that everywhere we go. I always sigh, and say something along the lines of it being a complicated answer. He's 5 months but he should *almost* be 3 months. Most people don't understand even after I have told them that just because he was born then and is now 5 months does not mean that he should automatically be the size of an average 5 month old nor should he be developmentally like one. It means he should have been developing into a newborn for the first 10 weeks of his life, and the it all grows from there. And of course the worst part of the question is that it reminds me all over again about my story...his story---their story.
I wish I could kiss my Jeremiah's chubby little baby cheeks right now. I'm glad he's in a better place though.
I guess all those memories are flooding back. They are compounded by the unavoidable reminders of what could of been. That viral video going around with the twin boys talking to each other or doing karate (I haven't watched it, I'm just going by comments) is one example. Another are the friends who have twins that are experiencing everything there is to go with having twins. It just breaks my heart. For Micah. For me. For what should have been.
I really wish this was easy to move on from. I'm not walking around in self pitty all the time. But I still hurt. I can't help but look at Micah and see double. For that I will always be grateful, that they were identical, because then at the very least I can try to imagine just what Jeremiah would have looked like during his life here on earth.
And that leads me to my least favorite question, the one I've begun to hate. "How old is he?" I hear that everywhere we go. I always sigh, and say something along the lines of it being a complicated answer. He's 5 months but he should *almost* be 3 months. Most people don't understand even after I have told them that just because he was born then and is now 5 months does not mean that he should automatically be the size of an average 5 month old nor should he be developmentally like one. It means he should have been developing into a newborn for the first 10 weeks of his life, and the it all grows from there. And of course the worst part of the question is that it reminds me all over again about my story...his story---their story.
I wish I could kiss my Jeremiah's chubby little baby cheeks right now. I'm glad he's in a better place though.
Micah & Jeremiah holding hands
Monday, March 28, 2011
Birthday Boy Memories
Today was Isaac's 2nd Birthday! It seems like he had a whole birthday weekend since we celebrated on Saturday and a little on Sunday. Especially since he was born in Japan, his birthday was kind of yesterday if you want to get picky. ;) He was a good boy, and we've been having so much fun with him. He has tons of hot wheels cars now and car tracks and fun toys. Thankfully he didn't get too much otherwise I wouldn't know what to do. I swear we have too many toys as it is. And he's only 2.
Speaking of only being 2 I cannot believe how fast they grow. I try REALLY hard not to get so excited that he is growing and learning so fast, because it is really fun. I love how much stuff we can go and do with him and how he can interact, learn and just do with the world. Yet, time is not always our friend and a large part of me wants to hold on to every moment I have with him. He wont always be my young baby boy. He will grow up and God willing have a fulfilling life. I guess unfortunately I know that life is not always so simple and I fight a level of anxiety every so often. I just have to appreciate the time we have and try not to rush it. I want him to grow. I do. Part of me just wants to squeeze him so tight he stays this way forever. I'm fighting a mopy feeling from other fronts, so instead of letting all *that* get me down on his day, let me share a little something special. Probably my favorite moment of my life.
As a mom I have to also give myself some credit on this day. It was just 2 years ago that I gave birth to my first born son. I was overdue...big ole belly on a tiny frame. I had tried everything to get that darn baby out and despite walking around at 3 cm for 2 weeks this kiddo wasn't going to budge! I felt doomed to wait until my induction day that we reluctantly set for March 30th.
The night before we had invited people over play games, hoping a certain someone would decide to ruin those plans. Didn't quite work, but I WAS miserable. I had been sitting on a yoga ball and when I got up I could not put any weight on my right leg. My sciatic nerve was pinched so bad. After everyone left I got into a warm bath with the aid of my husband. Soaked a little and then got out and the hubby went to bed. I laid down on my bed, about 1:45 in the a.m. (hey, I was still very much a night owl and I still had the luxury of sleeping in since I was childless thus far--well I tried to sleep in as much as I could before I nearly wet the bed or starved to death.) My husband had just fallen asleep and I was browsing and posting on a mommy forumn on my iTouch. I had two tighening contractions in a row, just like braxton hicks. They were a little uncomfortable but I was used to that by then, after all I had been a walking contraction for a month at that point.
The 3rd tightening came and with it my son pushed against it and with that came a reverberating *POP POP* sound and feeling. Disturbed, I let out a "What the hell was that?" Just loud enough for my husband to say, "What?". I thought, and it felt like, Isaac had broken a bone in the womb. It was so loud, and felt so strong. I thought maybe my water had broken as I had read about an audible sound. But no water gushed. I mentioned that it could be my water to my husband who was about as coherent as a bag of dog food. I got out of bed to see, walked a few steps into the hall and WOOOOSH, out came practically all my water just flowing down my leg and unto the floor like it does in the movies. Despite wanting this baby out with all my might, I suddenly felt very very scared and intimidated by the task I knew was at hand. That baby had to come out some how. Unless I had a C-Section, which I was praying against, I was the only person that was going to be pushing that baby out...of MY nether-region! AH.
My husband perked up and we were both in disbelief. We got my mom who was staying with us and I called L&D. They told me to come in even though I was hoping to labor at home for a while. Fortunately I didn't but we'll get to that later. We loaded up the hospital bags, let the dogs out for a quick potty and got in the car. By that time my contractions were coming. Practically all my water had come out, my belly looked like I was maybe 6 months pregnant. Contractions more and more frequent...and then I start to shiver. Uncontrollably shivering, in a car, teeth chattering away, and having contractions was not a fun adventure. Luckily it was at night and no cars were to be seen. Still every bump was a doozy. I held onto that handle and breathed like nobodies business! I jjust went from 0 - Labor in 15 minutes!
My husband dropped off my mom and I at the Naval hospital front and the front desk people so helpfully pointed me in the right direction without offering a coupled-over preggo, with a towel between her legs, breathing heavy, and stopping every 5 steps for a contraction much help at all. Thanks for the wheel chair 18 year old Navy boys! Ahem. So we go to the elevator and I swear on my stretchmarks I had 3 contractions just on the ride to the 5th floor. At this point Gravity was not my friend. It hurt like the dickens and each new one was worse. I felt like bowling ball was sitting on my cervix, which happened to be not only on fire but also full of crampy crampiness. So fun. They walked me to a room to be monitored, gowned up (or down?) and tested to see if my water had really broke. Yep, pretty sure it did. My contractions were better on the bed but still rockin my world. All I wanted was epidural, epidural, FRIGGIN EPIDURAL!
So after an appointment or 5 with the bathroom I made it out and a nurse walked ahead of me to show me to my delivery room. It was fortunately at the end of the hall. I felt like I was walkin' "the mile". I stopped about every 30 seconds for a contraction as she rolled her eyes. My mom not so secretely wanted to slap her. Got to the bed...I got hooked up. Checked my cervix and I was at 5cm. This was about 4:30a.m. I want to say. My contractions were hard hard hard. They lasted about 1.5 minutes and were 30-50 seconds apart and yes you read that right. From that point it was kind of a blur. No really, I took off my glasses so I couldn't see hardly a thing. I rolled, I moaned, I cussed, I shed a tear or two. Then came in the God-send himself. My main man Trevor (Oh yes, I remembered his name and considered giving Isaac a new middle name) came in the room wearing a smiley face bandana. He was the anethesiologist bringing me my epidural. The epidural didn't hurt a bit, it was hunching over (pushing against my husband who was going delirious and pushing me up?) over my pregger belly having a billion contractions from hell. Cameron almost passed out and quickly hurried my mom over to hold me up. She did a more helpful job and they got it in asap. Instant bliss. I fell like a whole new woman!
We all decided to hunker down for what could be a long day, so rest was a must. About an hour or so of just laying there I was starting to get bothered that I felt like I really, REALLY had to go to the bathroom, especially during contractions. Heck, I didn't wanna poop on the table and with an epidural you just never know! I told my mom and we told a nurse and she got the midwife to come in. I hadn't even met her yet and she came real quick to check me. Barely a few seconds goes by and she pulls of her gloves and exclaims "You're done!" ??? "What?" "You're done. 10cm dilated, fully effaced and +2 station." Woooweee I was so not ready to go into labor. I was expecting endless hours of waiting...and um, some sleep first! At this point I had been awake for about 20 hrs!
They raised up the bed, we practice pushed, waited, let my body labor him dowon without me pushing etc. All in all it was about 5 good pushes, in which I mentioned somewhat out loud that "IT HURTS!!!" We still laugh about how I must of scared the heck out of other laboring moms in the area by letting that one slip. Heh. But I had to push through the pain. I somewhat regretted not tapping that epidural button just one time before pushing, but hey, I'd rather feel than push for 3 hours. I focused on the diamond pattern on my gown so as to not close my eyes and I pushed as hard as I could. Out came my boy and it was the most amazing experience. He say his hands reach out so strong, he cried, they put him on my tummy and rubbed him in blankets. He grabbed my finger (while wailing). It was just amazing. I think that memory--the first time I laid eyes on him, having his natural, unwashed, little baby body lay on the OUTSIDE of my belly for the very first time. He was healthy. 4.5hrs of labor from start to finish. 9/9 APGAR. Life was perfect. I'm glad God gave me that experience.
We spent 2 days + a few hrs extra in the hospital because my blood pressure was high during and after labor. It was what seemed like the longest 2 days of my life---waiting for the chance to take my baby boy HOME. And then now, it's been 2 years. 2 whole years. Time sure does fly. After all we have been through as of late I am so thankful for that experience, that miracle. I am thankful I went overdue. I am thankful I felt so much pain for such a short while. I am thankful I could have a screaming baby boy placed on my belly in his first moments of life. I am thankful that I was able to feel like 2 days in the hospital, with the baby in my room, was a long time. You learn to appreciate that kind of stuff. More than anything, I thank the Lord for giving me such an amazing person to be my son. Isaac means Laughter. He stays true to his name.
Speaking of only being 2 I cannot believe how fast they grow. I try REALLY hard not to get so excited that he is growing and learning so fast, because it is really fun. I love how much stuff we can go and do with him and how he can interact, learn and just do with the world. Yet, time is not always our friend and a large part of me wants to hold on to every moment I have with him. He wont always be my young baby boy. He will grow up and God willing have a fulfilling life. I guess unfortunately I know that life is not always so simple and I fight a level of anxiety every so often. I just have to appreciate the time we have and try not to rush it. I want him to grow. I do. Part of me just wants to squeeze him so tight he stays this way forever. I'm fighting a mopy feeling from other fronts, so instead of letting all *that* get me down on his day, let me share a little something special. Probably my favorite moment of my life.
As a mom I have to also give myself some credit on this day. It was just 2 years ago that I gave birth to my first born son. I was overdue...big ole belly on a tiny frame. I had tried everything to get that darn baby out and despite walking around at 3 cm for 2 weeks this kiddo wasn't going to budge! I felt doomed to wait until my induction day that we reluctantly set for March 30th.
The night before we had invited people over play games, hoping a certain someone would decide to ruin those plans. Didn't quite work, but I WAS miserable. I had been sitting on a yoga ball and when I got up I could not put any weight on my right leg. My sciatic nerve was pinched so bad. After everyone left I got into a warm bath with the aid of my husband. Soaked a little and then got out and the hubby went to bed. I laid down on my bed, about 1:45 in the a.m. (hey, I was still very much a night owl and I still had the luxury of sleeping in since I was childless thus far--well I tried to sleep in as much as I could before I nearly wet the bed or starved to death.) My husband had just fallen asleep and I was browsing and posting on a mommy forumn on my iTouch. I had two tighening contractions in a row, just like braxton hicks. They were a little uncomfortable but I was used to that by then, after all I had been a walking contraction for a month at that point.
The 3rd tightening came and with it my son pushed against it and with that came a reverberating *POP POP* sound and feeling. Disturbed, I let out a "What the hell was that?" Just loud enough for my husband to say, "What?". I thought, and it felt like, Isaac had broken a bone in the womb. It was so loud, and felt so strong. I thought maybe my water had broken as I had read about an audible sound. But no water gushed. I mentioned that it could be my water to my husband who was about as coherent as a bag of dog food. I got out of bed to see, walked a few steps into the hall and WOOOOSH, out came practically all my water just flowing down my leg and unto the floor like it does in the movies. Despite wanting this baby out with all my might, I suddenly felt very very scared and intimidated by the task I knew was at hand. That baby had to come out some how. Unless I had a C-Section, which I was praying against, I was the only person that was going to be pushing that baby out...of MY nether-region! AH.
My husband perked up and we were both in disbelief. We got my mom who was staying with us and I called L&D. They told me to come in even though I was hoping to labor at home for a while. Fortunately I didn't but we'll get to that later. We loaded up the hospital bags, let the dogs out for a quick potty and got in the car. By that time my contractions were coming. Practically all my water had come out, my belly looked like I was maybe 6 months pregnant. Contractions more and more frequent...and then I start to shiver. Uncontrollably shivering, in a car, teeth chattering away, and having contractions was not a fun adventure. Luckily it was at night and no cars were to be seen. Still every bump was a doozy. I held onto that handle and breathed like nobodies business! I jjust went from 0 - Labor in 15 minutes!
My husband dropped off my mom and I at the Naval hospital front and the front desk people so helpfully pointed me in the right direction without offering a coupled-over preggo, with a towel between her legs, breathing heavy, and stopping every 5 steps for a contraction much help at all. Thanks for the wheel chair 18 year old Navy boys! Ahem. So we go to the elevator and I swear on my stretchmarks I had 3 contractions just on the ride to the 5th floor. At this point Gravity was not my friend. It hurt like the dickens and each new one was worse. I felt like bowling ball was sitting on my cervix, which happened to be not only on fire but also full of crampy crampiness. So fun. They walked me to a room to be monitored, gowned up (or down?) and tested to see if my water had really broke. Yep, pretty sure it did. My contractions were better on the bed but still rockin my world. All I wanted was epidural, epidural, FRIGGIN EPIDURAL!
So after an appointment or 5 with the bathroom I made it out and a nurse walked ahead of me to show me to my delivery room. It was fortunately at the end of the hall. I felt like I was walkin' "the mile". I stopped about every 30 seconds for a contraction as she rolled her eyes. My mom not so secretely wanted to slap her. Got to the bed...I got hooked up. Checked my cervix and I was at 5cm. This was about 4:30a.m. I want to say. My contractions were hard hard hard. They lasted about 1.5 minutes and were 30-50 seconds apart and yes you read that right. From that point it was kind of a blur. No really, I took off my glasses so I couldn't see hardly a thing. I rolled, I moaned, I cussed, I shed a tear or two. Then came in the God-send himself. My main man Trevor (Oh yes, I remembered his name and considered giving Isaac a new middle name) came in the room wearing a smiley face bandana. He was the anethesiologist bringing me my epidural. The epidural didn't hurt a bit, it was hunching over (pushing against my husband who was going delirious and pushing me up?) over my pregger belly having a billion contractions from hell. Cameron almost passed out and quickly hurried my mom over to hold me up. She did a more helpful job and they got it in asap. Instant bliss. I fell like a whole new woman!
We all decided to hunker down for what could be a long day, so rest was a must. About an hour or so of just laying there I was starting to get bothered that I felt like I really, REALLY had to go to the bathroom, especially during contractions. Heck, I didn't wanna poop on the table and with an epidural you just never know! I told my mom and we told a nurse and she got the midwife to come in. I hadn't even met her yet and she came real quick to check me. Barely a few seconds goes by and she pulls of her gloves and exclaims "You're done!" ??? "What?" "You're done. 10cm dilated, fully effaced and +2 station." Woooweee I was so not ready to go into labor. I was expecting endless hours of waiting...and um, some sleep first! At this point I had been awake for about 20 hrs!
They raised up the bed, we practice pushed, waited, let my body labor him dowon without me pushing etc. All in all it was about 5 good pushes, in which I mentioned somewhat out loud that "IT HURTS!!!" We still laugh about how I must of scared the heck out of other laboring moms in the area by letting that one slip. Heh. But I had to push through the pain. I somewhat regretted not tapping that epidural button just one time before pushing, but hey, I'd rather feel than push for 3 hours. I focused on the diamond pattern on my gown so as to not close my eyes and I pushed as hard as I could. Out came my boy and it was the most amazing experience. He say his hands reach out so strong, he cried, they put him on my tummy and rubbed him in blankets. He grabbed my finger (while wailing). It was just amazing. I think that memory--the first time I laid eyes on him, having his natural, unwashed, little baby body lay on the OUTSIDE of my belly for the very first time. He was healthy. 4.5hrs of labor from start to finish. 9/9 APGAR. Life was perfect. I'm glad God gave me that experience.
We spent 2 days + a few hrs extra in the hospital because my blood pressure was high during and after labor. It was what seemed like the longest 2 days of my life---waiting for the chance to take my baby boy HOME. And then now, it's been 2 years. 2 whole years. Time sure does fly. After all we have been through as of late I am so thankful for that experience, that miracle. I am thankful I went overdue. I am thankful I felt so much pain for such a short while. I am thankful I could have a screaming baby boy placed on my belly in his first moments of life. I am thankful that I was able to feel like 2 days in the hospital, with the baby in my room, was a long time. You learn to appreciate that kind of stuff. More than anything, I thank the Lord for giving me such an amazing person to be my son. Isaac means Laughter. He stays true to his name.
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