I’ve been really bad about keeping up. I even have all these things I’ve been thinking about, week in and week out, and when I think to sit down and write a post, I just kind of…well…forget?
Anyway, things are good so far. Here’s the picture from our 12 week ultrasound (12.3)
It’s been a few weeks since then, but I still have to wait another 10 days to go to the doctor to hear his/her little heartbeat again and put my mind at ease. As of yesterday, I think I’m beginning to feel some little movements here and there, so that’s a good sign. Anything to let me know there’s still a little human in there – I’ll take it.
Morning sickness is pretty much gone now, but I’m still very tired and I’ve started getting these awful headaches (especially in the morning). I worry a little about my blood pressure (which was pretty high at my 9 week appointment but not as bad at my 12 week appointment), because I know hypertension can really screw with fetal growth and the placenta (some of the myriad of “last things I want”). Hopefully everything is ok.
It’s all I can do. I’ll never really fully believe it is going to happen until it does. And even then…I’ll have a brand new set of terrifying things to worry about. But until all of that, I just hope for the best. Hope everything is alright. Even if that means I can’t really allow myself to say “when the baby gets here” (it’s always “if”), I think being hopeful is a pretty good start.
I’d like to thank Sweet P for hanging in there with us this far. Though, now, he/she is pretty much on the hook to stay with us forever. Please? Here’s what the little guy/gal looks like today:
I am kind of amazed that this is happening at all. We saw little arm buds waving and a little heart pumping away at 175 bpm. Kind of took my breath away.
Three more weeks until I see you again, SP. As your dad would say, “you keep growin!” That’s an order!
Now I miss you more than I can take
and I will surely break
And every morning that I wake
God, it is the same
There’s nothing more to it,
I just get through it
Oh, there’s nothing more to it
I just get through it
– First Aid Kit, “To A Poet”
Happy 5 months, Mal. Miss you, buddy.
Here is a little infographic I found on Facebook that gives a little insight into what we lost our little guy to.
I find it helpful because there is so little info out there that isn’t lost in a sea of medical jargon on websites maintained by and written for doctors. I guess that’s just one of the effects of HIE happening so infrequently, not a whole lot of people are looking.
I look at this and…I don’t necessarily feel comforted by the explanation, but I’m glad there is a name for it. I’m glad there is at least something to call it, something to create awareness about. But what are we really creating awareness about? Just that it happens? Because there wasn’t really anything they could do for our son. He lost everything in those final moments before they took me to get an emergency c-section. There was no way to stop it, his cord was stuck and he lost everything. I suppose other children have milder symptoms and some can even fully recover using the cooling technique. Just not Mal.
It still baffles me that it all happened so quickly. Here one minute, gone the next. What a waste.
I know Sweet P is in no danger of that precise thing happening to him/her. I know that all of it can be avoided this time around, presuming everything else goes ok.
So there’s that, I guess.
No of course I’m not actually dying. I’m just being dramatic, but, man, this is really hard.
I have hardly any energy at all. The only bright side of that is I tend to go to bed early enough that I stopped having to set an alarm for the morning. I just tend to wake up when I’m supposed to, if not shortly before or after. Not having an alarm blaring to wake me up in the morning definitely helps, but it doesn’t fight the mid-morning-through-late-afternoon-or-really-most-of-the-day slump.
Of course, I want to be grateful for all of this. For all of this experience and what it could lead to. I want to be glad and hopeful and excited, but all I can think is “Eh, maybe when this part is over.” Maybe when I’m rounder and less sleepy. Maybe when I’m not constantly torn between wishing I felt better and being scared to death that something bad has happened on a day that I do feel better.
I have my 9 week appointment next week. Just one more milestone on the road to not feeling quite as uncertain or scared. I’ll be grateful for it, but I don’t know how much it will relieve me. I don’t know when that magic moment is that I’m just like “whew ok, I feel pretty confident now that everything will be ok.” It might only happen when I have a crying baby in my arms. Who knows, it might not even happen then. I keep telling myself that 20 weeks will be a good time to relax. That’s far enough along that any chance of miscarriage has pretty much passed but they can also tell if there are any serious problems.
So, just like 11.5 more weeks, huh? Haha, sure, ok.
You know what sucks?
Being happy about something and hating it at the same time.
Knowing your body is doing what it is supposed to and it’s also making you miserable.
Still being devastated about losing a child when you’re making a new one because life is too short to sit around and wait to be not-sad anymore.
Yes, of course, I’m happy to be making another child. Of course I want a baby. You know what I don’t want? To be pregnant all over again. But them’s just the breaks, I guess. I wish I could just speed this part up. I wish I could wake up tomorrow and summer is over and I’m big and happy and ready to have a baby. I think, before I got pregnant again, I thought that all would be well as soon as I had a little something in there. That was pretty naive.
This is going to take a while.
7 weeks, 3 days. 6 weeks, 6 days. 6 weeks, 4 days.
So here we are again. Yesterday, we saw the little heartbeat on the monitor and the doctor said it measured at about 120 bpm which is a really good rate. Sweet P also measured at around 6 weeks, 3 days, so she moved my due date out…
To December 21st.
That was Malcolm’s due date. If I didn’t know I was going to have a scheduled c-section at about 38 weeks, I’d probably be really sad. I don’t know why, I always new that trying again after three months would put me in that range, but the same due date…wow. Thankfully, if Sweet P decides (or his or her chromosomes) decide to stick around, we’ll get to meet him/her sooner.
But that’s a big “if,” I know. According to a miscarriage statistics site I found last year, a study found that the risk of miscarriage dropped from 15% (once gestational sac is visible – which it was last week) to about 9% when a heartbeat is confirmed at 6 weeks. According to the same study, if all is well at our 9 week visit on May 21st, the risk of miscarriage will drop to a measly 0.5%. Of course, anything can happen and I’m trying to prepare myself for all possibilities, but somehow these numbers ease my mind a little.
Woof. So confusing.
Last Wednesday, I went to the doctor and had what was going to be our confirmation ultrasound. Once she got to the baby, however, all she could really see was the yolk sac and what was maybe the beginning of the fetal pole. She said it looked like maybe I was less far along than we estimated (using the first day of my last period). Since I always want to know the worst case scenario, I also asked her if the ultrasound would look the same way if I had miscarried early on. She said it might, but we’ll know more next week.
We rescheduled for a week later (tomorrow morning) and I was sent on my way. At first I felt really scared and almost sad already, but then I started thinking back to when we were trying last month, and I remembered that I couldn’t get a very good read on when I ovulated. Of course, when you find out you’re pregnant, you do the online calculator thing and, based on the first day of the last period, you get your dates. Those dates suppose that you had an average luteal phase (that you ovulated about 14 days after your period started). If you ovulate later than that, your dates could be off. I did a little math based on, in retrospect, the day I think I actually ovulated, and it put me about four days behind the average estimate. When I looked up what an ultrasound would look like at five weeks, four or five days, it turns out it would look exactly like what I saw last Wednesday.
So I’ve been feeling better about all of that.
Also my morning sickness has officially kicked in. So I’m feeling better about the baby and worse in just about every other way possible. But…yay!(?)
Tomorrow morning, we’ll get our real confirmation. A beating heart is what I want to see most in the world. Keeping my fingers crossed that everything goes well and we’re really on our way to having another baby soon.
I’m feeling much better today. I posted this to facebook soon after I made my blog post and finished crying a lot:
All of the comments and likes honestly have helped me so much through the worst of what happened with Malcolm. It started the day after he was born when AP posted a picture of him and told our friends and family, via facebook, that Malcolm was here…but he was in trouble. The outpouring of love over the next days and weeks…I think it almost physically carried me. Until last night, I hadn’t posted anything about Malcolm on facebook since New Year’s Eve. It felt good to reach out last night, at a time when I was feeling bad again, and have the collective internet hug of many of my friends and loved ones.
And tonight starts a much-needed three day weekend. Oh heck yeah. Bring it.
So today I feel better. I am one step closer…one day closer to having another baby. Still feeling pretty good. If this time is anything like last time, I should start feeling like crap sometime next week. We’ll see, I guess!
My Malcolm would have been four months old today.
I’m five weeks and two days pregnant and right now, out of nowhere, I’m just completely devastated all over again. I know we got pregnant again pretty quickly (I’m sure many people wait years for their rainbow babies), but as excited as I am, it is just totally wrecking me how long we have to wait and that I have to go through all of this again.
I guess it’s not out of nowhere. A friend on facebook is nearing her due date and today she posted this:
“Just caught a glimpse of my (still, rapidly expanding) profile in the bathroom mirror and welled up somethin’ awful. A miraculous little boy will be mine in mere weeks”
I remember that feeling so acutely. I remember how big and excited I was four months ago and it just rips me apart. I know I’ll be there again, but it’s going to be a long road and right now it just feels so hard.