The first six weeks of my babies' lives are such a blur to me. So I will try to reach back into the confines of my mind and recount what they were like.
The first week was spent in the hospital. Andrew was in the NICU, Matthew was with us, and I was recovering from my C-section. I surprised others by being so mobile, but I had to be in order to see Andrew. I already described why Andrew went to the NICU, so I won't recount that. My babies were so sweet. (They still are!)
That first day, I could not put Matthew down. I wanted to hold him forever. I sort-of got my wish, because every time I tried to put him down, he cried. He was ok as long as someone was holding him. He was big for a preemie, but still really small. He had a difficult time with breastfeeding at first and lost 12 oz pretty quickly. I remember trying to breastfeed him, him crying because he couldn't get it, and then I would start crying. He would see me crying and just start screaming. I tried to keep it together and would sing songs through my sobs. It was pretty pathetic. Eventually, we had to start finger feeding him because he was not getting enough from my breast. That is where you get a feeding tube, hook a syringe filled with milk to the tube, attach the tube to the finger and put your finger in his mouth so that when he is sucking on your finger, you are able to give him milk. It was very frustrating, but everyone kept reminding me that he is premature and the sucking reflex develops last, and his mouth is really small, so it is harder for him to latch on. Breastfeeding is hard because you are both learning how to do it. I was pumping like a mad woman, because I needed enough to feed Andrew and Matthew. I was very committed to breastfeeding, so that meant no bottles or binkies (at least for Matthew).
Because Andrew was in the NICU, I let the nurses give him a binkie. Well, they gave it to him, and I just didn't object, because I couldn't stand not being there to comfort him when he cried, so the least we could do is let him have something to suck on. He LOVED that binkie. When he was 3 days old, the binkie fell from his mouth, and he did this downward facing dog move to try and get it, where his face was on the mattress and he was nearly standing with his butt in the air. Paul and I laughed and commented that he is a very strong baby. It was really hard to see him in that incubator. I was allowed to hold him every day, except the second day. And amazingly, after I held him, he would get a little stronger. I was with him at least twice daily, and felt guilty for not being there more. But, when I would ask for a report, they would say that he started doing better and would tell me the time that he started getting better and it was always after I held him. I don't think they ever connected the two, but it made me feel good that he was doing well after I held him. He was just so sweet and wonderful to hold (albeit a little awkward due to all the tubes and IV's). They fed him with a feeding tube going down his throat, and eventually, around day 5, he was strong enough to eat from a bottle. On day 6, they let me try breastfeeding. His latch was good, but he would just suck a couple times and fall asleep. He got stronger every day.
I was doing ok with everything until I learned that I would be discharged without Andrew. That is when I broke down and started crying and couldn't stop. I cried so hard that I gave myself migraines. It was impossible and I really didn't think I could do it. They let me stay an extra day because my liver still wasn't where they wanted it to be. And I was discharged at night so that I could stay with him. I really had a difficult time. It was hard enough being down the hall from him- how could I go home without my baby?
Paul and I said that when the boys were together, Andrew would help Matthew eat and Matthew would be calmer and let us put him down. Ah, we were so naive. Andrew came home after 8 days. He was supposed to come home on day 7, but when we were on our way, we called to confirm, and they said that they were keeping him an extra day. I sobbed during our entire visit. But, our glorious homecoming finally came. We introduced the boys to each other, and took tons and tons of pictures. They seemed to like one another, and they were both ok to be put down. But not for long! Soon (like within a couple hours), neither baby would tolerate being put down. They both wanted, no, insisted on being held 100% of the time, or else they screamed!
And boy could they scream. They screamed for diaper changes, any time I went to the bathroom, for baths, if I went to get something to eat. It wasn't so bad when family was here for the first 3 weeks, but after that, it was really hard.
At 2 weeks, we went to their two week check up and I started bleeding heavily. I thought it was just part of my lochia, but there were puddles of blood on the floor of the pediatrician's office. I was really weak and wanted to go home, but Paul took me to the ER. And then he took the babies home. So I was alone there, annoyed, because I didn't want to be there. The docs and nurses kept commenting how calm I was. I didn't see what the big deal was. Well, apparently, part of the placenta was still in my uterus, so they did an emergency D&C. Wow, did that hurt! They kept me overnight, which killed me. I wanted to go home to see my babies! They had finally just gotten the hang of breastfeeding, and I wanted to be there! The next morning, I went home, but because of the antibiotics, I got a yeast infection. Did you know you could get that in your nipples? It felt like acid shooting out and I was screaming out whenever the boys latched on and wished for death. I really thought I was going to have to quit breastfeeding. It was just way too hard. I got diagnosed with the yeast infection, was treated, and things dramatically improved. Although it was still hard and painful, I was given hope that I could go on.
Because the boys refused to be put down, I lived the first 6 weeks in our recliner. We would snuggle up under a comforter and they would sleep and eat all day long, screaming for diaper changes and mommy potty breaks. I would get my food for the day ready near me so that I didn't have to get up and risk the boys crying. I learned how to doze sitting up. As crazy as it sounds, I kind of miss those days, because they were fine with just rocking (now, they insist on walking around!). I got a 2-3 hour break daily, usually from 3am-5am where Paul would hold them while I slept.
This was also the time that Matthew started his treatment for clubfeet. We drove to Hershey every Monday and he had casts put on. He hated that! Even though I was holding him, he screamed and screamed. I cried too. I couldn't stand listening to him in pain! It was almost too much to bear. I was also sad because, although he was still in preemie clothes, I had to put newborn sleepers on him to fit over his casts. There are all these clothes he never go to wear. Oh well! He got used to them for the most part, but he did scream every week while putting them on (and taking them off). Poor little guy. Andrew slept through it all. The docs always commented that she didn't know if we really did have another baby, because she never heard a peep from him.
Cute story: At times I put would the boys in the pack n' play together. They would scream usually until you picked them up, however, at times, they would start sucking on each other's heads or hands. It was ridiculously funny. You would hear sucking, and then usually one baby crying and find that someone was sucking on the other's head. So funny!
Well, I guess I remembered more than I thought I did. It was a hard time, but I guess you need the hard times to make you grateful for the good times. :) We did have a lot of sweet moments. The nice thing is that my favorite thing to do is look at them and hold them, so I got plenty of time to do that! And they are growing so fast- who knows if they will be cuddly when they get older and are on the move. So, although it was hard, I am grateful for all of our cuddly and snuggly times!
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Mommy Guilt
There is this phenomenon that I like to call Mommy Guilt. It is this weird thing where you feel guilty all the time for all sorts of different things. I think mommies are expected to be perfect and when we don't measure up, we feel guilty. It can be real or false guilt (real being things we should feel guilty for and false being things that we shouldn't feet guilty about). I think all people feel guilty for things, and sometimes with good reason, but it is 1,000 times worse when you are a mommy.
For example, during my second pregnancy, I took Ib profin when I had strep throat and I feel an overwhelming sense of guilt about it, because what if that was part of the reason I miscarried. Or maybe if I had gotten my strep treated sooner, I wouldn't have miscarried. In all actuality, I think I miscarried because I had low progesterone and an underactive thyroid (also things I feel guilty for). False guilt.
Because I was convinced that I was infertile, Paul and I decided to buy a house that needed a little work to it. We bought a house that was foreclosed on that needed a lot of work. Not major foundational things, but things like, painting, cleaning, the floors needed either carpeting or the hardwood floors needed redone, the kitchen needed cabinets, etc. We bought the house and I finally had something to occupy my mind instead of being depressed over my miscarriage and the inability to have children. Except the same week we closed on the house was the week we found out I was pregnant! So, we have this great house with all this work that needs done, and I am too exhausted to do any of it. So we had to get help from others to do these things. Help that friends generously gave us and help that we had to hire. I felt guilty for all these things, because I felt like I should be the one to do everything, and was upset that I was too tired to do anything. The boys are currently 3 months old, and there are still boxes that need to be unpacked.
It is amazing how soon the fatigue starts when you are pregnant. To top that off, I had to get 4 shots a week of progesterone to maintain my pregnancy. And boy did those shots hurt! And they made me even more tired. At work, I would make a list of things to do when I got home, but after I got home from the doctor's, I would collapse on the couch too tired to do anything. It was enough to muster the energy to go upstairs to go to the bathroom. But I felt guilty for not getting this stuff done in preparation for when the babies would come. However, if I had known the lack of sleep I would get as a new mother, I don't think I would have felt as guilty about laying on the couch and resting! I also felt guilty for not getting in all of my veggies, but they made me nauseous! And I didn't exercise throughout my pregnancy like I had planned. I could barely walk, but I still felt guilty for not exercising.
I had a difficult pregnancy. I was constantly nauseaus, and that didn't subside until my third trimester. Like I mentioned before, I had low progesterone, so I was getting 4 shots a week. They were painful and it was hard to walk afterwards. On top of that, I had Symphysis Pubis Dysfunction. This is where the ligaments of my pelvic region were too loose causing my pelvis to shift out of place. I was in excruciating pain all of the time. Lying down was the worst, as was getting out of bed. I would have to stand in place for a few minutes before I could even walk, and then it was with crying and, at times, screaming. It was an awful time. Yet, ridiculously, I felt guilty for being unable to do things in this state. I don't think it helped that people put guilt on me. People would ask if my nursery was set up and when I said no, would say things like "If I were having twins, I would make sure everything was set up" or "You really need to get on that." It was subtle and people probably didn't mean to make me feel guilty, but unfortunately, I did.
At 33 weeks, I started to dialate and my cervix was thinning out. At 34 weeks, I was put on bedrest. That was awful for me, because, like I said earlier, lying down was impossibly painful. At 35 weeks, I was put on hospital bedrest, and they made sure I was lying down. At home, I spent my days in my recliner, which was somewhat comfortable. Hospital bedrest was horrible. I was losing it. The reason I went into the hospital was because I developed pre-eclampsia, which is high blood pressure, liver failure, etc., and apparently really dangerous. I didn't realize the seriousness of it, and kept pleading with the docs to let me go home. They said I had to stay until I gave birth. I wasn't due for another 5 weeks. I didn't think I could do that. They kept a close eye on me, and did blood tests several times daily. Once my liver started failing more, they were going to do a C-section. Once I reached 36 weeks, I willed my liver to fail. I wanted to get worse so they would take the babies. (Well, I really wanted to go into labor naturally, but because Matthew was breech, they would not allow me to try for a natural birth.) So, finally, I took a turn for the worse.
Matthew was born 11/10/09 at 8:04am, was 5 lb 14 oz. Andrew was born 11/10/09 at 8:05am and was 6 lb 11 oz. The C-section was terrifying. I remember being unable to breathe, being nauseaus, and freaking out. Once I heard Matthew crying, everything was ok, and I calmed down. However, apparently Andrew swallowed some amniotic fluid and wasn't crying well. So they had to take him to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU). They paused long enough to touch his cheek to mine. And then he seemed to be doing better, so they took him to the recovery room with me. When the pediatrician came, he made the decision to send him to the NICU for the day. Here is the BIG guilt: I didn't ask to hold him before he left. I wanted to. I asked if I could hold one of them, and because they were taking Andrew away, they gave Matthew to me. I should have insisted on holding Andrew before he was taken away. Insisted on one minute to whisper that I loved him and would see him later. This is the guilt that I can't get rid of. I wonder if his stay would have been shorter had I held him. There is an amazing bond between mother and child and skin to skin contact, and I feel so guilty for not asking to hold him. I wonder if he would be less colicky if he hadn't spent 8 days in the NICU. Eight impossible days!
I wasn't allowed to see Andrew until I was able to get out of bed. I can tell you: I fought ridiculously hard to be able to get out of that bed. I did everything I could, and that evening, they finally let me go see him. They let me hold him skin to skin. Not very long, but I cherished those minutes (half hour, I think). They told me only 10 minutes, but let me hold him for longer. He was doing better the second day, but they wouldn't let me hold him, because his breathing was bad. He had chemical pneamonia, and later developed persistant pulminary hypertensive disorder. There were other things, but I can't remember them. I remember all the tubes coming out of him. And that IV they stuck in his head- ugh! Talk about heartbreak. I felt guilty anytime I wasn't with Andrew and guilty anytime I wasn't with Matthew. It was impossible. I had two babies to take care of and wanted to be with both of them 100% of the time, and yet, I constantly had to choose, and constantly felt guilty, no matter which child I was with. I know some of that was false guilt (ok, probably most), but some of it was real guilt too.
"Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit of life set me free from the law of sin and death." Romans 8:1-2. I know that I condemn myself way more than I should. I am working on it. I have a lot of issues! I need to forgive myself for not being perfect, not allow others to make me feel guilty for making mistakes, and take my guilt and insecurities to God. It's easier said than done, but I am working on it!
For example, during my second pregnancy, I took Ib profin when I had strep throat and I feel an overwhelming sense of guilt about it, because what if that was part of the reason I miscarried. Or maybe if I had gotten my strep treated sooner, I wouldn't have miscarried. In all actuality, I think I miscarried because I had low progesterone and an underactive thyroid (also things I feel guilty for). False guilt.
Because I was convinced that I was infertile, Paul and I decided to buy a house that needed a little work to it. We bought a house that was foreclosed on that needed a lot of work. Not major foundational things, but things like, painting, cleaning, the floors needed either carpeting or the hardwood floors needed redone, the kitchen needed cabinets, etc. We bought the house and I finally had something to occupy my mind instead of being depressed over my miscarriage and the inability to have children. Except the same week we closed on the house was the week we found out I was pregnant! So, we have this great house with all this work that needs done, and I am too exhausted to do any of it. So we had to get help from others to do these things. Help that friends generously gave us and help that we had to hire. I felt guilty for all these things, because I felt like I should be the one to do everything, and was upset that I was too tired to do anything. The boys are currently 3 months old, and there are still boxes that need to be unpacked.
It is amazing how soon the fatigue starts when you are pregnant. To top that off, I had to get 4 shots a week of progesterone to maintain my pregnancy. And boy did those shots hurt! And they made me even more tired. At work, I would make a list of things to do when I got home, but after I got home from the doctor's, I would collapse on the couch too tired to do anything. It was enough to muster the energy to go upstairs to go to the bathroom. But I felt guilty for not getting this stuff done in preparation for when the babies would come. However, if I had known the lack of sleep I would get as a new mother, I don't think I would have felt as guilty about laying on the couch and resting! I also felt guilty for not getting in all of my veggies, but they made me nauseous! And I didn't exercise throughout my pregnancy like I had planned. I could barely walk, but I still felt guilty for not exercising.
I had a difficult pregnancy. I was constantly nauseaus, and that didn't subside until my third trimester. Like I mentioned before, I had low progesterone, so I was getting 4 shots a week. They were painful and it was hard to walk afterwards. On top of that, I had Symphysis Pubis Dysfunction. This is where the ligaments of my pelvic region were too loose causing my pelvis to shift out of place. I was in excruciating pain all of the time. Lying down was the worst, as was getting out of bed. I would have to stand in place for a few minutes before I could even walk, and then it was with crying and, at times, screaming. It was an awful time. Yet, ridiculously, I felt guilty for being unable to do things in this state. I don't think it helped that people put guilt on me. People would ask if my nursery was set up and when I said no, would say things like "If I were having twins, I would make sure everything was set up" or "You really need to get on that." It was subtle and people probably didn't mean to make me feel guilty, but unfortunately, I did.
At 33 weeks, I started to dialate and my cervix was thinning out. At 34 weeks, I was put on bedrest. That was awful for me, because, like I said earlier, lying down was impossibly painful. At 35 weeks, I was put on hospital bedrest, and they made sure I was lying down. At home, I spent my days in my recliner, which was somewhat comfortable. Hospital bedrest was horrible. I was losing it. The reason I went into the hospital was because I developed pre-eclampsia, which is high blood pressure, liver failure, etc., and apparently really dangerous. I didn't realize the seriousness of it, and kept pleading with the docs to let me go home. They said I had to stay until I gave birth. I wasn't due for another 5 weeks. I didn't think I could do that. They kept a close eye on me, and did blood tests several times daily. Once my liver started failing more, they were going to do a C-section. Once I reached 36 weeks, I willed my liver to fail. I wanted to get worse so they would take the babies. (Well, I really wanted to go into labor naturally, but because Matthew was breech, they would not allow me to try for a natural birth.) So, finally, I took a turn for the worse.
Matthew was born 11/10/09 at 8:04am, was 5 lb 14 oz. Andrew was born 11/10/09 at 8:05am and was 6 lb 11 oz. The C-section was terrifying. I remember being unable to breathe, being nauseaus, and freaking out. Once I heard Matthew crying, everything was ok, and I calmed down. However, apparently Andrew swallowed some amniotic fluid and wasn't crying well. So they had to take him to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU). They paused long enough to touch his cheek to mine. And then he seemed to be doing better, so they took him to the recovery room with me. When the pediatrician came, he made the decision to send him to the NICU for the day. Here is the BIG guilt: I didn't ask to hold him before he left. I wanted to. I asked if I could hold one of them, and because they were taking Andrew away, they gave Matthew to me. I should have insisted on holding Andrew before he was taken away. Insisted on one minute to whisper that I loved him and would see him later. This is the guilt that I can't get rid of. I wonder if his stay would have been shorter had I held him. There is an amazing bond between mother and child and skin to skin contact, and I feel so guilty for not asking to hold him. I wonder if he would be less colicky if he hadn't spent 8 days in the NICU. Eight impossible days!
I wasn't allowed to see Andrew until I was able to get out of bed. I can tell you: I fought ridiculously hard to be able to get out of that bed. I did everything I could, and that evening, they finally let me go see him. They let me hold him skin to skin. Not very long, but I cherished those minutes (half hour, I think). They told me only 10 minutes, but let me hold him for longer. He was doing better the second day, but they wouldn't let me hold him, because his breathing was bad. He had chemical pneamonia, and later developed persistant pulminary hypertensive disorder. There were other things, but I can't remember them. I remember all the tubes coming out of him. And that IV they stuck in his head- ugh! Talk about heartbreak. I felt guilty anytime I wasn't with Andrew and guilty anytime I wasn't with Matthew. It was impossible. I had two babies to take care of and wanted to be with both of them 100% of the time, and yet, I constantly had to choose, and constantly felt guilty, no matter which child I was with. I know some of that was false guilt (ok, probably most), but some of it was real guilt too.
"Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit of life set me free from the law of sin and death." Romans 8:1-2. I know that I condemn myself way more than I should. I am working on it. I have a lot of issues! I need to forgive myself for not being perfect, not allow others to make me feel guilty for making mistakes, and take my guilt and insecurities to God. It's easier said than done, but I am working on it!
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Background Info
I think in order to understand me a little better and how much my family means to me, some background info is necessary. After all, everything makes sense in its context. Paul and I were married for three years when we decided to start trying to have a baby. It was more that we were no longer preventing a pregnancy than actively trying... well, on his part anyway. I wanted a baby in the worst way, so in June 2007, while we were on vacation, we decided to stop preventing. I, being the planner that I am, mapped out my cycle every month.
December 2007, I had a positive pregnancy test. I was so excited. I told Paul and my sister, and started planning out how I would tell everyone else. My plan was to wait until Christmas and I had all sorts of creative ways to tell our family and then close friends, and would of course wait until the second trimester before telling anyone else. Two days later, I had the worst "period" of my life. I miscarried. The term for such an early pregnancy is chemical pregnancy. Because I couldn't stand thinking that my first pregnancy was a miscarriage, I lied to myself and tried to convince myself that I wasn't actually pregnant. I started getting sharp pains and went to the doctor. They thought I had a miscarriage, too. And they sent me for tests to figure out my pain. It turns out I had a 10cm cyst on my right ovary. Ten centimeters! That is the size a woman has to be dialated in order to have a baby! They waited a few months to see if it would resolve itself, but it never did, and it caused horrible pain. It was hard to walk or to concentrate on anything else. I had to have surgery to remove it. It was scheduled for March 7, 2008.
The surgery was supposed to be routine- cut through the belly button, drain the cyst, and remove it. Unfortunately, I had some complications. I woke up from the surgery cathed and in intense pain. I knew something went wrong. I asked the nurse what happened, and she told me that they had to remove my ovary. My ovary! I needed that! The doctor explained that the cyst was wrapped around my ovary and fallopian tube and she could not find the source of the cyst. So she had to cut my stomach open (in the same place as a C- section) and removed both my ovary and fallopian tube. I was in such intense pain in my right side for months afterward, and she explained that they had to "pull hard." Ugh! She also discovered that I have endometriosis, which is where the lining of the uterus grows more cells than it should and can prevent pregnancy. So she told us if we were wanting to start a family, we better start sooner than later. So as soon as I was well enough, we started trying again.
I got pregnant that first month, and took the test the day after our 4th anniversary. We were so excited, and because Paul's brother was graduating from college that weekend, we were able to tell everyone in person. Everyone was thrilled. I had strep throat (at that point undiagnosed), and was miserable. My throat would swell shut, so I was taking Ib profin to help the swelling, and would only take it when I could no longer breathe. I only tell you this to let you in to my immense sense of guilt. We had our first doctor's appointment on June 4, 2008. It was long and thrilling. I was having some spotting, which worried me, but tried to tell myself that everything was fine. The midwife checked for the heartbeat and couldn't find it, so she sent me to the hospital for an in depth ultrasound. She started talking to me about miscarriage, but I couldn't listen to her. They held me after that ultrasound so the midwife could call me and tell me that there would be a miscarriage because their was a gestational sac, but the baby was not developing in it. She told me technical names, but I don't remember what she said, because I was breaking on the inside.
On June 20, 2008, I had the miscarriage. It was an impossible two and a half weeks. I was convinced that God was going to work a miracle out in me and that I would be ok. 100% convinced (maybe 99%). It was not to be. I was babysitting my neices when it started. I didn't know what to do. I called Paul at work and he came home (well, to my sister's house). I thought I was going to bleed to death. Sorry for the graphic detail, but I was filling a pad every five minutes for 4 hours. It was awful! The next day, I was numb, sore, and empty. It turns out I wasn't completely empty, because not all of the baby miscarried. It took another two weeks for the miscarriage to be complete. I was getting blood tests every couple days and was given medicine (by my request). I did not want another surgery. They almost went in and did a D&C on me, because not all the baby fragments were gone. But the day they were going to do that, was the day that everything was finally gone. And I really was empty.
I cannot begin to explain the mental damage that was done during that month. To know that you are carrying a dead child within you is indescribable. Dirty little secret time: I was glad I didn't miscarry all at once because I was still connected with that baby. And I think I lost my mind a little bit. I read every update that was sent to me via email from those baby websites. I had to know what developmental stage my baby would be in if I was still pregnant. Probably not the healthiest thing in the world, but that was my grief process.
I also went through a crisis of belief with my faith. I was so angry with God. It totally shattered my whole belief system. I had to come to a point where I was ok with expressing my emotions to God. Before this point, in my mind, God only loved you/was ok with you if you were perfect and I don't think I was ever real with God- not completely. It took a while for me to tell him that I was mad, and to express all of my negative emotions, and there was a lot! My relationship with God went to a whole new level, and I was ok with telling him that I didn't like him, yes, even hated him. I think I had to tell him honestly what I felt about Him before I could really love him. He loved me through all the negative- through my darkest hour.
So, we kept trying for a baby, but I was convinced that God hated me and that I would never have a baby. (Oh, my skewed view of God!) I had the miscarriage in June 2008, and by February 2009, I was frustrated. Up to this point, I was seeing a fertility specialist where I was tracking my cycle religiously. I went through all sorts of testing to find that I have low progesterone and a sluggish thyroid. Also, my estrogen levels were low. So I went on meds to correct all of that, along with Clomid to help stimulate ovulation. None of that was working, and so they did an ultrasound, and thought that I had fibroids. Which meant another surgery. But first, they wanted to do a minor surgery to make sure my tube was not blocked. It turns out it was blocked, and it was pretty painful unblocking it. But... the next month, I was pregnant again!
We know the end result of this pregnancy. I got pregnant with the twins. I was fearful the entire time that I would miscarry or something would happen. But, praise the Lord, I had them successfully. I will share that story another time. I am so excited to share my miracle babies with everyone!
December 2007, I had a positive pregnancy test. I was so excited. I told Paul and my sister, and started planning out how I would tell everyone else. My plan was to wait until Christmas and I had all sorts of creative ways to tell our family and then close friends, and would of course wait until the second trimester before telling anyone else. Two days later, I had the worst "period" of my life. I miscarried. The term for such an early pregnancy is chemical pregnancy. Because I couldn't stand thinking that my first pregnancy was a miscarriage, I lied to myself and tried to convince myself that I wasn't actually pregnant. I started getting sharp pains and went to the doctor. They thought I had a miscarriage, too. And they sent me for tests to figure out my pain. It turns out I had a 10cm cyst on my right ovary. Ten centimeters! That is the size a woman has to be dialated in order to have a baby! They waited a few months to see if it would resolve itself, but it never did, and it caused horrible pain. It was hard to walk or to concentrate on anything else. I had to have surgery to remove it. It was scheduled for March 7, 2008.
The surgery was supposed to be routine- cut through the belly button, drain the cyst, and remove it. Unfortunately, I had some complications. I woke up from the surgery cathed and in intense pain. I knew something went wrong. I asked the nurse what happened, and she told me that they had to remove my ovary. My ovary! I needed that! The doctor explained that the cyst was wrapped around my ovary and fallopian tube and she could not find the source of the cyst. So she had to cut my stomach open (in the same place as a C- section) and removed both my ovary and fallopian tube. I was in such intense pain in my right side for months afterward, and she explained that they had to "pull hard." Ugh! She also discovered that I have endometriosis, which is where the lining of the uterus grows more cells than it should and can prevent pregnancy. So she told us if we were wanting to start a family, we better start sooner than later. So as soon as I was well enough, we started trying again.
I got pregnant that first month, and took the test the day after our 4th anniversary. We were so excited, and because Paul's brother was graduating from college that weekend, we were able to tell everyone in person. Everyone was thrilled. I had strep throat (at that point undiagnosed), and was miserable. My throat would swell shut, so I was taking Ib profin to help the swelling, and would only take it when I could no longer breathe. I only tell you this to let you in to my immense sense of guilt. We had our first doctor's appointment on June 4, 2008. It was long and thrilling. I was having some spotting, which worried me, but tried to tell myself that everything was fine. The midwife checked for the heartbeat and couldn't find it, so she sent me to the hospital for an in depth ultrasound. She started talking to me about miscarriage, but I couldn't listen to her. They held me after that ultrasound so the midwife could call me and tell me that there would be a miscarriage because their was a gestational sac, but the baby was not developing in it. She told me technical names, but I don't remember what she said, because I was breaking on the inside.
On June 20, 2008, I had the miscarriage. It was an impossible two and a half weeks. I was convinced that God was going to work a miracle out in me and that I would be ok. 100% convinced (maybe 99%). It was not to be. I was babysitting my neices when it started. I didn't know what to do. I called Paul at work and he came home (well, to my sister's house). I thought I was going to bleed to death. Sorry for the graphic detail, but I was filling a pad every five minutes for 4 hours. It was awful! The next day, I was numb, sore, and empty. It turns out I wasn't completely empty, because not all of the baby miscarried. It took another two weeks for the miscarriage to be complete. I was getting blood tests every couple days and was given medicine (by my request). I did not want another surgery. They almost went in and did a D&C on me, because not all the baby fragments were gone. But the day they were going to do that, was the day that everything was finally gone. And I really was empty.
I cannot begin to explain the mental damage that was done during that month. To know that you are carrying a dead child within you is indescribable. Dirty little secret time: I was glad I didn't miscarry all at once because I was still connected with that baby. And I think I lost my mind a little bit. I read every update that was sent to me via email from those baby websites. I had to know what developmental stage my baby would be in if I was still pregnant. Probably not the healthiest thing in the world, but that was my grief process.
I also went through a crisis of belief with my faith. I was so angry with God. It totally shattered my whole belief system. I had to come to a point where I was ok with expressing my emotions to God. Before this point, in my mind, God only loved you/was ok with you if you were perfect and I don't think I was ever real with God- not completely. It took a while for me to tell him that I was mad, and to express all of my negative emotions, and there was a lot! My relationship with God went to a whole new level, and I was ok with telling him that I didn't like him, yes, even hated him. I think I had to tell him honestly what I felt about Him before I could really love him. He loved me through all the negative- through my darkest hour.
So, we kept trying for a baby, but I was convinced that God hated me and that I would never have a baby. (Oh, my skewed view of God!) I had the miscarriage in June 2008, and by February 2009, I was frustrated. Up to this point, I was seeing a fertility specialist where I was tracking my cycle religiously. I went through all sorts of testing to find that I have low progesterone and a sluggish thyroid. Also, my estrogen levels were low. So I went on meds to correct all of that, along with Clomid to help stimulate ovulation. None of that was working, and so they did an ultrasound, and thought that I had fibroids. Which meant another surgery. But first, they wanted to do a minor surgery to make sure my tube was not blocked. It turns out it was blocked, and it was pretty painful unblocking it. But... the next month, I was pregnant again!
We know the end result of this pregnancy. I got pregnant with the twins. I was fearful the entire time that I would miscarry or something would happen. But, praise the Lord, I had them successfully. I will share that story another time. I am so excited to share my miracle babies with everyone!
Saturday, February 13, 2010
New beginnings
I decided it was time to start my own blog. I am very excited about this and hope that I will be consistent in writing. Beginnings are hard, so forgive me as I stumble around here. I want to chronicle my life, specifically my twin sons new lives, and how we are able to manage that. I will share my story in bits and pieces here and there about how they came to be (not graphically, of course!) An intro:
My husband and I have been married for almost 6 years, and had our first children, twin sons Matthew and Andrew, in November 2009. Currently, they just turned 3 months old, and are my pride and joy. I decided to be a stay at home mommy for as long as we can afford to do so. There will be many sacrifices, but it is so worth it. I turned in my month's notice here at work and my last day to be a counselor will be March 7th. It is hard to leave my babies, even on this part time status, but I am counting down to the day! That is a brief snapshot of who I am. Please join me in my journey- there will be ups and downs, but that's life!
My husband and I have been married for almost 6 years, and had our first children, twin sons Matthew and Andrew, in November 2009. Currently, they just turned 3 months old, and are my pride and joy. I decided to be a stay at home mommy for as long as we can afford to do so. There will be many sacrifices, but it is so worth it. I turned in my month's notice here at work and my last day to be a counselor will be March 7th. It is hard to leave my babies, even on this part time status, but I am counting down to the day! That is a brief snapshot of who I am. Please join me in my journey- there will be ups and downs, but that's life!
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