A well-meaning stranger recommended the movie Birth As We Know It to Rebecca of Girl's Gone Child. When I read about dolphin midwives on her blog, I had to look this up.
Unless you're an OB/GYN or a midwife, this 10-minute promotional video is not safe for work.
Ok, folks, it's time to rope. it. in.
4:50 - "We come into this world wide open to give and receive love, and when that is our primal experience, our nervous system is hardwired for the undeniable rightness of being." Cut to video of a Cesarian birth. "If our early impressions are anything less than loving, then that anything imprints in our nervous system as a valid experience of love, regardless of how painful those experiences might have been. And throughout our life we will subconsciously recreate the conditions and feelings that were imprinted at birth and early childhood. Because in spite of all logic, that is our comfort zone. The dramatic journey from the womb out into the world, whatever form it takes, reinforces that imprint. In addition, our early impressions of life also have an enormous impact on our future capacity to experience intimacy and love."
You heard them. If your "birth experience" is anything less than a transcendent zen experience, preferably including orgasm, your baby will never have a successful intimate relationship. Never mind that a pretty significant portion of the children who are born via c-section would never have an opportunity to form an intimate relationship if they had not born via c-section, because they would have died before they had the chance.
In spite of all logic, indeed.
Folks, this kind of hogwash is what you get when you listen to the woman who sells lotion at the mall on the subject of medicine. (Is it just our mall that has thickly-accented women pushing lotion?)
I would love it if Dr. Amy would do an MST3K-style response video to that thing.
Look, I had three natural childbirths, not because of any hippy-dippy crap, but because the possible side-effects of the pain medication reached my personal threshold of "unacceptable risk." I figured that if I could get through it without meds, I should, because the pain meds carried risks. And honestly, the thought of a spinal headache or a big ol' needle in my back scared me more than the idea of natural birth. I also was blessed with really speedy labors, so I had the option. If I'd been in labor for a week and a half, I would've happily accepted the pain meds. I was screaming for an epidural in the elevator on the way to L&D when I was in labor with MG. Little did I know then that the screaming meant I was almost done. I thought I had 12 more hours to go.
Parenting is all about managing risk, really. It starts when you're pregnant, and whether or not you take that Category B medication that you really need, even though there's a chance that it poses unknown risk to the baby. And everyone's risk threshold is different. Everyone's pain threshold is different. But it's profoundly stupid and cruel to insinuate that someone's baby won't ever be able to LOVE if it's born via c-section.
Why can't the "natural childbirth advocates" just be honest? Why do they have to hitch their wagon to all this "newage" (rhymes with "sewage") crap? Why the guilt? Why the blame? Why the drama?
Claire might have died in utero if we hadn't induced, because I had intrahepatic cholestasis of pregnancy and that's just how it works. I also had pregnancy induced hypertension with all three of my kids, which could have killed us if we hadn't induced, too. I wouldn't have to go far to find a dozen friends who wouldn't have survived, or whose kids wouldn't have survived, a water birth in the sea with dolphin freaking midwives.
There is a time and a place for interventions, and that time and place needs to be determined by a woman and her caregiver. That's it. Let's take the competitiveness, and the drama, and most of all this pseudo-scientific pseudo-spiritual bullshit out of it. It's not helping anyone.
And quit traumatizing the poor dolphins.
Showing posts with label Pregnancy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pregnancy. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Monday, April 18, 2011
Baby Cakes
My friend Sarah shared a VERY cute idea last time I saw her, and my friends Jim and Karen used it this weekend.
Instead of having the ultrasound technician tell them the baby's gender during their 20 week ultrasound, they had her write it in an envelope and seal it. They kept the envelope for weeks, showing enormous restraint that I, personally, do not possess. Finally, Jim brought it over to my house on Thursday, and I went to the nearest bakery as quickly as possible to remove the temptation to peek. I instructed the bakery to make the filling between the layers of white cake pink for a girl and blue for a boy.
Then Saturday, BJ picked up the cake and again with the temptation! I thought of half a dozen ways to peek, but I didn't. Karen picked the cake up Saturday night when she dropped me off from my birthday celebration, and we waited some more (longest. weekend. ever...) until she cut it at her son's birthday party on Sunday afternoon. I had sent an e-mail to the guests instructing them to wear pink if they guessed it was a girl, and blue if they guessed it was a boy.
Karen and Jim have three wonderful little boys. And she's pregnant with... A GIRL!
The best part was watching and hearing everyone react to the news. Her oldest sons hugged each other and jumped up and down. You would've thought they won the lottery! And everyone cheered and cried and hugged and laughed. It was such a cool moment.
It almost makes me want to have a fourth so I can have a baby cake!
Hooray babies! Congratulations Jim and Karen!!!
Instead of having the ultrasound technician tell them the baby's gender during their 20 week ultrasound, they had her write it in an envelope and seal it. They kept the envelope for weeks, showing enormous restraint that I, personally, do not possess. Finally, Jim brought it over to my house on Thursday, and I went to the nearest bakery as quickly as possible to remove the temptation to peek. I instructed the bakery to make the filling between the layers of white cake pink for a girl and blue for a boy.
Then Saturday, BJ picked up the cake and again with the temptation! I thought of half a dozen ways to peek, but I didn't. Karen picked the cake up Saturday night when she dropped me off from my birthday celebration, and we waited some more (longest. weekend. ever...) until she cut it at her son's birthday party on Sunday afternoon. I had sent an e-mail to the guests instructing them to wear pink if they guessed it was a girl, and blue if they guessed it was a boy.
Karen and Jim have three wonderful little boys. And she's pregnant with... A GIRL!
The best part was watching and hearing everyone react to the news. Her oldest sons hugged each other and jumped up and down. You would've thought they won the lottery! And everyone cheered and cried and hugged and laughed. It was such a cool moment.
It almost makes me want to have a fourth so I can have a baby cake!
Hooray babies! Congratulations Jim and Karen!!!
Monday, January 24, 2011
Intrusive Thoughts, Revisited
I'm over at Postpartum Progress helping Katherine fight the good fight today. Check it out.
Have you ever had intrusive thoughts?
Have you ever had intrusive thoughts?
Monday, January 17, 2011
Clothes
Last fall I got a bunch of maternity clothes from my friend, Sarah, who grew up across the street from me. I've always known her, ever since I can remember, and it's totally weird that we're both mommies, now, and that we're sharing maternity clothes instead of tree houses. That is the magic of Facebook.
Anyway, she wrote the other day (pre-plague) and said that another friend of hers is pregnant, so could I please box up her maternity clothes and send them back to Grammaland so she can pass them on to her friend. Since Icompletely wore the red shirt with the runching to death totally lost track of what belonged to her and what belonged to me am such a generous person, I said that I'd add in all my own maternity clothes, and she could pass those on to her friend too. I have stuff that other friends sent me when I was pregnant with MG. The sisterhood of the traveling stretchy pants.
What I never saw coming was that I would have a big ol' ugly cry over getting rid of my maternity clothes for good.
We're done. Our family is complete. And even if I didn't think so, the odds of talking BJ into a fourth kid are between slim and none.
The childbearing years are so special - they're the years we're going to look back on when we're old. They're the hardest and the best in so many ways, and they're over. I mean, we're not throwing the baby out with the maternity clothes, but this is it. I never get to feel a baby kicking inside of me again. I never get to hear "it's a boy!" or "it's a girl!" again. The next time I hold a brand new, hours old baby that is literally a part of me, it'll be my grandchild.
So I stood there, looking at the clothes that I got so sick of over the past year, and I had a big old cry, and I felt really old.
I'm sure there will a point when knowing that we're Done will be a big relief, but right now it's a lot more bitter than sweet.
In other news, nursing tops are a total scam. I found a couple white t-shirts in the bin with my other non-maternity clothes that had small stains on the front... you know how white t-shirts are. Instead of throwing them out, I cut slits over the boobs. Now I can wear them under regular t-shirts and not flash the world when I nurse the baby. This is good, because the bin with the nursing tops and the nursing bras has gone missing, and because the commercially available nursing tops are like $25.00 a piece. The layered look is still in, right?
Anyone know how to convert regular bras into nursing bras?
Anyway, she wrote the other day (pre-plague) and said that another friend of hers is pregnant, so could I please box up her maternity clothes and send them back to Grammaland so she can pass them on to her friend. Since I
What I never saw coming was that I would have a big ol' ugly cry over getting rid of my maternity clothes for good.
We're done. Our family is complete. And even if I didn't think so, the odds of talking BJ into a fourth kid are between slim and none.
The childbearing years are so special - they're the years we're going to look back on when we're old. They're the hardest and the best in so many ways, and they're over. I mean, we're not throwing the baby out with the maternity clothes, but this is it. I never get to feel a baby kicking inside of me again. I never get to hear "it's a boy!" or "it's a girl!" again. The next time I hold a brand new, hours old baby that is literally a part of me, it'll be my grandchild.
So I stood there, looking at the clothes that I got so sick of over the past year, and I had a big old cry, and I felt really old.
I'm sure there will a point when knowing that we're Done will be a big relief, but right now it's a lot more bitter than sweet.
In other news, nursing tops are a total scam. I found a couple white t-shirts in the bin with my other non-maternity clothes that had small stains on the front... you know how white t-shirts are. Instead of throwing them out, I cut slits over the boobs. Now I can wear them under regular t-shirts and not flash the world when I nurse the baby. This is good, because the bin with the nursing tops and the nursing bras has gone missing, and because the commercially available nursing tops are like $25.00 a piece. The layered look is still in, right?
Anyone know how to convert regular bras into nursing bras?
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Wow!
So you might remember that I lost about 50 pounds prior to getting pregnant last year. Of course I couldn't diet when I was pregnant, but I kept my weight gain under careful control. I gained a total of 25 pounds, most of it at the end of my pregnancy.
Ever since I got home from the hospital I've been trying to screw up the courage to step on the scale and see how far I am from where I started. Since today is the beginning of a new year, I figured that it was as good a day as any to face my bathroom scale demons.
I am four pounds heavier than I was when I became pregnant. And to be honest, I can't really blame any of it on Jack - I blame the cookies and candy and pie and ham and turkey I've been eating for the last month!
Ever since I got home from the hospital I've been trying to screw up the courage to step on the scale and see how far I am from where I started. Since today is the beginning of a new year, I figured that it was as good a day as any to face my bathroom scale demons.
I am four pounds heavier than I was when I became pregnant. And to be honest, I can't really blame any of it on Jack - I blame the cookies and candy and pie and ham and turkey I've been eating for the last month!
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Jack's First Three Days in Words
Thursday I had a headache all day, and I felt like someone had taken all the air out of my tires. Around 4 pm I got up (for pretty much the first time all day) to fold some laundry. Half a load in I felt really bad, so I took my blood pressure. It was 158/92. I laid down and took it again ten minutes later, and it was still high, so I called BJ, my dad, and the midwife's office. The midwife sent me to the hospital for monitoring.
It took us a while to get everyone together. We finally arrived at the hospital around 6 pm. I honestly thought I was being a big dork, and that they'd send me home and tell me to quit bugging them on Thursdays. They got us to the L&D floor and into a labor room, which was a little surprising, since we'd had the tour and we knew that they had monitoring rooms up there. I got gowned, they started the IV and did all the tests, and they put me on monitors and started taking my BP regularly. It stayed high, even though I was laying down and calm and not doing anything it was still in the 150s over 90s. I'll admit that I was a bit relieved that I wasn't just being a hypochondriac, at that point. My midwife came in and we all decided to induce.
At that point BJ and I called my mom and sister and told them to head down. My dad was still with the kids, and he didn't have to work that night, so that worked out nicely. We called his parents and told them what was going on. It was all very surreal. We couldn't quite believe that we were having a baby that night!
They started the Pitocin at 10 pm. If you have the choice between Pitocin and Cytotec, take the Pitocin. The baby did not come shooting out of me like a midget out of a cannon the way Claire did (when I was induced with Cytotec). Things were much more calm and controlled. I was in labor for about 3-1/2 hours, total. The first 2 hours were very easy and manageable. We laughed and talked and joked and made guesses as to when the baby would be born and what his measurements would be. Things started to get real around midnight or so. I kind of went "inside myself," which is the best I can do to describe what it's like to give birth. I kept my eyes shut and concentrated on BJ's voice. I said "ok" a lot. I told everyone that this was a bad idea and we should go home and try again tomorrow. At one point the midwife was wiping off my cheeks, and I said, "I forgot to take off my mascara. I'll bet I look like the guy from KISS," and I stuck out my tongue.
I only pushed for about ten minutes. I distinctly remember pushing, and feeling something emerge, experiencing a great deal of relief, and thinking it was over. Well, I must have just delivered his head at that point, because BJ said, "I can see the head!" and I thought, "WHAT? Where's the rest of him? I thought I was DONE!" It made me so mad that I pushed him the rest of the way out on the next contraction.
My sister said she almost missed the birth because it was so quiet, she didn't realize that it was happening right then. It was very much a calmer birth than my birth with Claire. The midwife stayed with us the entire time, which was really nice. She didn't check me unless I asked to be checked. I asked her if I should push, and she said to do what my body told me to do. Labor makes me shake like crazy (probably from the adrenaline) so I didn't get to try standing up, but I was kind of seated upright in the bed, and they lowered the bottom half of the bed so they could catch the baby. Being upright with my feet on the lower part of the bed below me, as opposed to being on my back with my knees held up, really helped.
Jack weighed 7 pounds, 7 ounces, and was 20.25 inches long at birth. He's lost a bit of weight, of course. His face is all bruised from coming out so fast, but it's getting better. So far he has a little jaundice, but not much. We expected quite a bit with all the bruising. He's nursing like a champ.
I ended up having to stay in the hospital until today because my blood pressure wouldn't cooperate and come down, but we're home now. The girls are over the moon. I kind of hope the newness wears off a bit this week, because they're a little too enthusiastic - fighting over who gets to help me change dirty diapers and stuff. We're working on "safety tips" for how to take care of the baby. I got the idea from a book we have called "Officer Buckle and Gloria" - Officer Buckle gives safety tip speeches to schools, and Gloria is his police dog. The tips are things like, "Tip #52 - Never stand on a swivel chair!" So ours is "Safety Tip #1 - Never leave toys on the floor where someone could trip and drop baby." We hope that by including the kids in making the rules, and by making it fun, we'll make them more likely to be followed. We'll do some more Safety Tips tomorrow.
We had a little birthday party for Jack at home this afternoon, with cake and balloons. His sisters helped him blow out his little "0" candle. He slept through most of it.
My aunt Julie and her family stopped on their way home for a little while, too. We don't see them often, so that was really nice. They're coming back next week to celebrate Christmas with us, too.
Jack has slept all day, so he'll probably be up all night. I should definitely go rest while I can. I may be light on the text for the next few weeks, but I'll try to keep up with the pictures. Thanks so much for your well wishes on the previous posts, and all the awesome comments on Facebook! They mean so much to me.
It took us a while to get everyone together. We finally arrived at the hospital around 6 pm. I honestly thought I was being a big dork, and that they'd send me home and tell me to quit bugging them on Thursdays. They got us to the L&D floor and into a labor room, which was a little surprising, since we'd had the tour and we knew that they had monitoring rooms up there. I got gowned, they started the IV and did all the tests, and they put me on monitors and started taking my BP regularly. It stayed high, even though I was laying down and calm and not doing anything it was still in the 150s over 90s. I'll admit that I was a bit relieved that I wasn't just being a hypochondriac, at that point. My midwife came in and we all decided to induce.
At that point BJ and I called my mom and sister and told them to head down. My dad was still with the kids, and he didn't have to work that night, so that worked out nicely. We called his parents and told them what was going on. It was all very surreal. We couldn't quite believe that we were having a baby that night!
They started the Pitocin at 10 pm. If you have the choice between Pitocin and Cytotec, take the Pitocin. The baby did not come shooting out of me like a midget out of a cannon the way Claire did (when I was induced with Cytotec). Things were much more calm and controlled. I was in labor for about 3-1/2 hours, total. The first 2 hours were very easy and manageable. We laughed and talked and joked and made guesses as to when the baby would be born and what his measurements would be. Things started to get real around midnight or so. I kind of went "inside myself," which is the best I can do to describe what it's like to give birth. I kept my eyes shut and concentrated on BJ's voice. I said "ok" a lot. I told everyone that this was a bad idea and we should go home and try again tomorrow. At one point the midwife was wiping off my cheeks, and I said, "I forgot to take off my mascara. I'll bet I look like the guy from KISS," and I stuck out my tongue.
I only pushed for about ten minutes. I distinctly remember pushing, and feeling something emerge, experiencing a great deal of relief, and thinking it was over. Well, I must have just delivered his head at that point, because BJ said, "I can see the head!" and I thought, "WHAT? Where's the rest of him? I thought I was DONE!" It made me so mad that I pushed him the rest of the way out on the next contraction.
My sister said she almost missed the birth because it was so quiet, she didn't realize that it was happening right then. It was very much a calmer birth than my birth with Claire. The midwife stayed with us the entire time, which was really nice. She didn't check me unless I asked to be checked. I asked her if I should push, and she said to do what my body told me to do. Labor makes me shake like crazy (probably from the adrenaline) so I didn't get to try standing up, but I was kind of seated upright in the bed, and they lowered the bottom half of the bed so they could catch the baby. Being upright with my feet on the lower part of the bed below me, as opposed to being on my back with my knees held up, really helped.
Jack weighed 7 pounds, 7 ounces, and was 20.25 inches long at birth. He's lost a bit of weight, of course. His face is all bruised from coming out so fast, but it's getting better. So far he has a little jaundice, but not much. We expected quite a bit with all the bruising. He's nursing like a champ.
I ended up having to stay in the hospital until today because my blood pressure wouldn't cooperate and come down, but we're home now. The girls are over the moon. I kind of hope the newness wears off a bit this week, because they're a little too enthusiastic - fighting over who gets to help me change dirty diapers and stuff. We're working on "safety tips" for how to take care of the baby. I got the idea from a book we have called "Officer Buckle and Gloria" - Officer Buckle gives safety tip speeches to schools, and Gloria is his police dog. The tips are things like, "Tip #52 - Never stand on a swivel chair!" So ours is "Safety Tip #1 - Never leave toys on the floor where someone could trip and drop baby." We hope that by including the kids in making the rules, and by making it fun, we'll make them more likely to be followed. We'll do some more Safety Tips tomorrow.
We had a little birthday party for Jack at home this afternoon, with cake and balloons. His sisters helped him blow out his little "0" candle. He slept through most of it.
My aunt Julie and her family stopped on their way home for a little while, too. We don't see them often, so that was really nice. They're coming back next week to celebrate Christmas with us, too.
Jack has slept all day, so he'll probably be up all night. I should definitely go rest while I can. I may be light on the text for the next few weeks, but I'll try to keep up with the pictures. Thanks so much for your well wishes on the previous posts, and all the awesome comments on Facebook! They mean so much to me.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
New Christmas Song
To the tune of Baby It's Cold Outside
(Baby's voice - Mommy's voice)
I want to be born - Baby it's cold outside
So get on the horn - Baby it's cold outside
Gestation has been - Been hoping that you'd drop in
So very nice - But please don't fall out on the ice!
My mother will start to worry - Beautiful, what's your hurry?
My father will be pacing the floor - Listen to the ambulance roar
So really I'd better scurry - Beautiful, please don't hurry
Well maybe just one hour more - Get the bags, let's get out the door!
The neighbors might think - Baby, it's bad out there
I'm blue or I'm pink - No cabs to be had out there
I wish I knew how - Please God, send the snowplow now!
To slow things more - A blizzard is no good time to be born!
I ought to say no, no, no, sir - Contractions are getting closer
At least I'm gonna say that I tried - Why is it such a long ****ing ride?
I really can't stay - Baby don't come out
Baby it's cold outside
I simply must go - Baby, it's cold outside
The answer is no - Ooh baby, it's cold outside
This welcome has been - Not lucky the weather's grim
So nice and warm - Look out the window at that storm
My sisters will be suspicious - Road birth is against my wishes
My midwife will be there at the door - Wait till we get to the 5th floor
I know that labor is vicious - This birth could be more auspicious
Well maybe just a half an hour more - Never such a blizzard before.
I've got to come out - Oh, baby, you'll freeze out here
So Mommy don't shout - It's up to my knees out here
You've really been grand - Stay in, my child, I command
But don't you see - How can you do this thing to me?
There's bound to be talk tomorrow - Making my life long sorrow
If you have me on the hospital ride - If you caught pneumonia and died *
I really can't stay - So baby don't come out
Baby it's cold outside
*That's in the original song - I'm not being morbid. No one's going to die, even if there is a blizzard.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
It could be a long month...
My Uncle Doug called me today, for no particular reason, just cause he was thinking about me. He mentioned that he thought today might be The Big Day.
I didn't tell him that I had passed some mucus earlier in the day, because uncles don't want to hear about mucus (now that I think about it, you probably don't either... I promise that's the last time I'll mention it). I also didn't mention that I'd been having some interesting tightenings - not necessarily real contractions because they weren't painful, but they were making it hard to breathe. And I'd been super emotional all day. And my back hurt like crazy last night, and I made BJ rub it forever...
Hmmm...
Around 2:30 pm I started paying a bit more attention to these tightenings. I noticed that they were coming at even intervals - about every 12 minutes. I chatted to BJ, "ummmm... I think maybe you should come home..." He took a wait and see approach. When I was able to predict when it would happen within 2 minutes based on the timing of the last two, I said, "do you think you should come home?" "I'm already gathering my stuff," he said.
I called the midwife's office and described everything that had been happening. "Can you get here by 3:30?" they said. "Yes, I can make that happen..."
I called my friend Karen, but she didn't answer her phone, so I called our friends down the street and they agreed to take the kids for us. I started gathering my hospital bag, my make up bag, my "oh shit, we're having this baby on the highway" bag (which contains a blanket, a shower curtain, two towels, and two receiving blankets), the cord blood collection kit (we're donating our cord blood for Huntington's Disease research), and my purse. I even remembered the camera and the charger - there's a first time for everything! I grabbed my cell phone charger just as our neighbor arrived to get the girls and BJ got home a few minutes after that.
We called BJ's mom and my mom and sister from the road and told them to be on high alert. We made it to the midwife's office in excellent time, without a police escort and/or paramedics.
The midwife checked me.
No change since Tuesday.
Still at 3 cm and 80%.
I'm trying not to feel silly, because I did have several good reasons to think things might be happening, and because it's better to get checked and be sent home than to have the baby unassisted at home (actually, our friend down the street - the one who took the kids - is a postpartum nurse, so she's totally qualified to help me birth this baby if it comes down to it). It was an excellent dress rehearsal. I stayed remarkably calm in the face of what I thought might be imminent labor and a couple of things-that-didn't-go-according-to-plan. BJ stayed calm too, but he's always calm.
It was a good trial run. There's no reason to feel silly.
But it's going to be a long month.
I didn't tell him that I had passed some mucus earlier in the day, because uncles don't want to hear about mucus (now that I think about it, you probably don't either... I promise that's the last time I'll mention it). I also didn't mention that I'd been having some interesting tightenings - not necessarily real contractions because they weren't painful, but they were making it hard to breathe. And I'd been super emotional all day. And my back hurt like crazy last night, and I made BJ rub it forever...
Hmmm...
Around 2:30 pm I started paying a bit more attention to these tightenings. I noticed that they were coming at even intervals - about every 12 minutes. I chatted to BJ, "ummmm... I think maybe you should come home..." He took a wait and see approach. When I was able to predict when it would happen within 2 minutes based on the timing of the last two, I said, "do you think you should come home?" "I'm already gathering my stuff," he said.
I called the midwife's office and described everything that had been happening. "Can you get here by 3:30?" they said. "Yes, I can make that happen..."
I called my friend Karen, but she didn't answer her phone, so I called our friends down the street and they agreed to take the kids for us. I started gathering my hospital bag, my make up bag, my "oh shit, we're having this baby on the highway" bag (which contains a blanket, a shower curtain, two towels, and two receiving blankets), the cord blood collection kit (we're donating our cord blood for Huntington's Disease research), and my purse. I even remembered the camera and the charger - there's a first time for everything! I grabbed my cell phone charger just as our neighbor arrived to get the girls and BJ got home a few minutes after that.
We called BJ's mom and my mom and sister from the road and told them to be on high alert. We made it to the midwife's office in excellent time, without a police escort and/or paramedics.
The midwife checked me.
No change since Tuesday.
Still at 3 cm and 80%.
I'm trying not to feel silly, because I did have several good reasons to think things might be happening, and because it's better to get checked and be sent home than to have the baby unassisted at home (actually, our friend down the street - the one who took the kids - is a postpartum nurse, so she's totally qualified to help me birth this baby if it comes down to it). It was an excellent dress rehearsal. I stayed remarkably calm in the face of what I thought might be imminent labor and a couple of things-that-didn't-go-according-to-plan. BJ stayed calm too, but he's always calm.
It was a good trial run. There's no reason to feel silly.
But it's going to be a long month.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Baby, it's cold outside
 |
| via Wikimedia Commons |
The extended forecast for our area is calling for 5.5 inches of snow on Saturday, and an additional 1.5 inches of snow on Sunday.
HAHAHAHAHAHA!
Guess who just made an extra appointment to get checked late Friday.
Does anyone have any polar camping gear? Maybe I should just set up a tent in the parking lot of the hospital.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Grounded
36 weeks tomorrow. I went to see my midwife today. She did the Group B Strep test and checked me (why not, as long as I'm already in the stirrups?) and I'm 3 cm dilated and 80% effaced.
There go all my plans to go to out of town parties between now and baby.
If I had ever been in labor for more than 4 hours, I might take the chance, but since I have rocket powered babies, I'm going to be staying close to home. If it weren't so cold, I'd just camp out in the field next to the hospital.
I know that it's not predictive, especially in a 3rd pregnancy, of when I'll go into labor. I could totally walk around and not dilate any more than this for the next month... Or I could go into labor in 5 minutes. Not knowing is hard.
Anyone want to revise their guesstimate?
There go all my plans to go to out of town parties between now and baby.
If I had ever been in labor for more than 4 hours, I might take the chance, but since I have rocket powered babies, I'm going to be staying close to home. If it weren't so cold, I'd just camp out in the field next to the hospital.
I know that it's not predictive, especially in a 3rd pregnancy, of when I'll go into labor. I could totally walk around and not dilate any more than this for the next month... Or I could go into labor in 5 minutes. Not knowing is hard.
Anyone want to revise their guesstimate?
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Outing
Yesterday I managed to draw upon some reserve of energy that I didn't know existed (which was mostly composed of guilt), and I took the kids to the Children's Museum after school.
You should have seen me going down the holiday slide with Claire on my lap. I thought we were going to go careening into the cafeteria.
Mary Grace's favorite activity was "ice skating" in her socks on what looked like a big piece of whiteboard. Claire's was making dresses for our Barbies. Mine was sitting down. Often. Luckily it wasn't crowded at all, so I could position myself at the front of each room and let them roam around. They know better than to leave an area without me, which makes things a lot easier, too.
We managed to stay until 5:00. I was the last person down the slide. The kids went down first without me. Fortunately I looked funny enough that they stuck around to see if I'd be able to get back up at the bottom. I was able, but it wasn't graceful.
The first real snow of the year is falling now. The driving was terrible this morning. I guess no one expected it to stick. When BJ came home for lunch he got the Christmas tree out and assembled, and the girls and I are going to fluff up the branches so that we can decorate it when he gets home. I have a pot roast in the crock pot, which is good, because I'm not likely to have the energy to cook later.
I guess as long as I take advantage of the good days, I can give myself permission to crash on the tired days, right? I'm really ready to be all done with this pregnancy. 35 weeks today. Post your guesses for gender, height, weight, and most importantly BIRTHDAY in the comments!
You should have seen me going down the holiday slide with Claire on my lap. I thought we were going to go careening into the cafeteria.
Mary Grace's favorite activity was "ice skating" in her socks on what looked like a big piece of whiteboard. Claire's was making dresses for our Barbies. Mine was sitting down. Often. Luckily it wasn't crowded at all, so I could position myself at the front of each room and let them roam around. They know better than to leave an area without me, which makes things a lot easier, too.
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| We can totally paint the bunkbeds like this... |
The first real snow of the year is falling now. The driving was terrible this morning. I guess no one expected it to stick. When BJ came home for lunch he got the Christmas tree out and assembled, and the girls and I are going to fluff up the branches so that we can decorate it when he gets home. I have a pot roast in the crock pot, which is good, because I'm not likely to have the energy to cook later.
I guess as long as I take advantage of the good days, I can give myself permission to crash on the tired days, right? I'm really ready to be all done with this pregnancy. 35 weeks today. Post your guesses for gender, height, weight, and most importantly BIRTHDAY in the comments!
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Expectations
I went to the midwife on Monday, and everything's fine with the baby and me (heart rate: 144, measuring 34 centimeters at 34 weeks, my blood pressure was great, I gained another pound - total 17)... but I was so upset by something that I haven't been able to write about it until now. Actually, I spent most of Monday night and Tuesday morning in tears.
The OB who delivered the girls isn't practicing in our town right now. He left the group of physicians he was with, and had a covenant not to compete, so he can't practice here until April of next year. I considered driving about an hour to Illinois, where he is practicing, to continue to see him - he still takes my insurance - but I decided that it would be too inconvenient, especially with my fast labors.
So when we saw the midwife for the first time, I said, "Here's the deal - with my first I had preeclampsia, was on bedrest for a week, and delivered naturally at 39 weeks in 3 hours and 45 minutes. With my second I had preeclampsia again, I also had ICP, and I was induced at 36 weeks. My labor was only an hour and 9 minutes. In light of all that, and since ICP has a 60-90% chance of coming back, I want to be induced at 37 weeks. If you can't do that, or deal with all these complications as a midwife, I'll find someone who can." I wasn't hostile about it, I was just putting my preferences and expectations out there right up front.
She said, "Well, we don't know that the preeclampsia will come back - after all you've lost 50 pounds since then. And there's a 10-40% chance that the ICP won't come back. We normally induce for precipitous labor at 38 weeks."
"I can live with that," I said.
On Monday I said something about 38 weeks, and she said, "39 weeks." Apparently (according to BJ's cousin's wife who is an L&D nurse) the rules changed about two months ago. Of course I didn't know that at the time. I was too stunned to even question her much. I've gotten VERY comfortable with 38 weeks over the past 7 months, and I felt like she had pulled the rug right out from under me. Part of my disappointment was that I felt like she'd lied to me. That part went away when I found out that the guidelines had changed. (In fact, some insurance companies are refusing to pay for some inductions which they deem "too early," which just makes me want to spit nails).
Part of it was that 38 weeks is 12/22 - 39 is 12/29. It's the difference between being enormously pregnant and uncomfortable on Christmas and having a new baby at home on Christmas. It's the difference between having BJ home for 12 days after the baby's born, and having BJ home for 5 days after the baby's born. It's the difference between having my mom here for a while after the baby's born, and Mom going back to Florida. I'd gotten really, really invested in the idea of having the baby by Christmas. More than I realized, actually.
One of these days I'm going to learn that when I have expectations, I inevitably end up disappointed. I sometimes wish that I couldn't think in the future tense at all. I get these ideas in my head about how things are going to be, and then the reality is never what I had imagined, and even if the reality is better than what I imagined, I get all upset over the loss of the imagined reality.
But the main component of my 'tude about the change in plans is that I'm deeply, deeply afraid of having this baby at home. Remember all that anxiety I've been battling? It all came right back in spades. I cried a lot on Monday night. Mary Grace heard us talking and said, "Mommy, if I can come along (to the hospital) I can protect you and keep you from being afraid," and I felt horrible enough for worrying her that I was able to suck it up for a while. I had nightmares on Monday night, and lost a lot of sleep. Then Tuesday I cried some more. I didn't sleep well last night, either. The last two days have sucked.
Even though I wanted a homebirth with MG (BJ said, "No freaking way," though), the idea of a homebirth terrifies me now. (I also was adamantly against being induced with MG, and now I want to be induced. I'm like the Ziggy of childbirth). For one thing, we have new carpet and a new mattress. For another, what would we do with the kids? Or the dog?? For a third, who is going to clean it up? What if there's a blizzard and the EMTs can't get to our house?
The midwife's answer to all of this was to get a shower curtain (to protect the bed), and to visualize having the baby in a calm, controlled, normal length of time. I'm trying, but I really don't think I can visualize my way out of this. And a shower curtain isn't going to do diddly squat if the baby doesn't breathe (pneumothorax is a complication of precipitous labor - it means collapsed lung), or if I bleed to death, or if I have a cervical tear, or if something else tears, or if the baby is brain damaged, or any of the other bad things that can happen with precipitous labor that I'm not making up.
I feel marginally better today (mainly due to finding out that the midwife didn't lie when she said 38 weeks initially), but I might just be exhausted. I'm trying to convince myself that Claire's labor was so fast because they induced me with Cytotec, and that I shouldn't expect this labor to be that fast again if I go into labor naturally. I'm also trying to convince myself that the 4 hours between when they put in the Cytotec and when they broke my water "count" as labor, even though they didn't hurt and I've never thought of them as labor - I was mainly just hanging out in the hospital wondering if that twinge might have been a contraction. I can totally get to the hospital in 5 hours and 9 minutes, or 3 hours and 45 minutes. It's the less-than-an-hour scenario that scares me. I'm hoping that my friend Tammy, who dreams about babies with surprising accuracy, is right when she predicts that I'll go into labor on my own on 12/15 and have a boy (12/15 is 37 weeks - the leading edge of "term"). I'm trying to remember that I have a chance of going into labor before Christmas on my own, and if not, I'm trying to get excited about a different reality for Christmas this year - mainly not having to miss all the parties leading up to Christmas. After all, if she's not concerned enough to induce me, and if going to labor before 39 weeks on my own is so rare, then there's no reason for me to sit at home all month not having a baby. We'll just take our shower curtain with us.
I know this is a stupid reason to be upset. The baby is healthy. I've been healthier than anyone expected me to be throughout the pregnancy. I'm trying really, really hard to count my blessings. And I'm trying to let go of all my expectations.
The OB who delivered the girls isn't practicing in our town right now. He left the group of physicians he was with, and had a covenant not to compete, so he can't practice here until April of next year. I considered driving about an hour to Illinois, where he is practicing, to continue to see him - he still takes my insurance - but I decided that it would be too inconvenient, especially with my fast labors.
So when we saw the midwife for the first time, I said, "Here's the deal - with my first I had preeclampsia, was on bedrest for a week, and delivered naturally at 39 weeks in 3 hours and 45 minutes. With my second I had preeclampsia again, I also had ICP, and I was induced at 36 weeks. My labor was only an hour and 9 minutes. In light of all that, and since ICP has a 60-90% chance of coming back, I want to be induced at 37 weeks. If you can't do that, or deal with all these complications as a midwife, I'll find someone who can." I wasn't hostile about it, I was just putting my preferences and expectations out there right up front.
She said, "Well, we don't know that the preeclampsia will come back - after all you've lost 50 pounds since then. And there's a 10-40% chance that the ICP won't come back. We normally induce for precipitous labor at 38 weeks."
"I can live with that," I said.
On Monday I said something about 38 weeks, and she said, "39 weeks." Apparently (according to BJ's cousin's wife who is an L&D nurse) the rules changed about two months ago. Of course I didn't know that at the time. I was too stunned to even question her much. I've gotten VERY comfortable with 38 weeks over the past 7 months, and I felt like she had pulled the rug right out from under me. Part of my disappointment was that I felt like she'd lied to me. That part went away when I found out that the guidelines had changed. (In fact, some insurance companies are refusing to pay for some inductions which they deem "too early," which just makes me want to spit nails).
Part of it was that 38 weeks is 12/22 - 39 is 12/29. It's the difference between being enormously pregnant and uncomfortable on Christmas and having a new baby at home on Christmas. It's the difference between having BJ home for 12 days after the baby's born, and having BJ home for 5 days after the baby's born. It's the difference between having my mom here for a while after the baby's born, and Mom going back to Florida. I'd gotten really, really invested in the idea of having the baby by Christmas. More than I realized, actually.
One of these days I'm going to learn that when I have expectations, I inevitably end up disappointed. I sometimes wish that I couldn't think in the future tense at all. I get these ideas in my head about how things are going to be, and then the reality is never what I had imagined, and even if the reality is better than what I imagined, I get all upset over the loss of the imagined reality.
But the main component of my 'tude about the change in plans is that I'm deeply, deeply afraid of having this baby at home. Remember all that anxiety I've been battling? It all came right back in spades. I cried a lot on Monday night. Mary Grace heard us talking and said, "Mommy, if I can come along (to the hospital) I can protect you and keep you from being afraid," and I felt horrible enough for worrying her that I was able to suck it up for a while. I had nightmares on Monday night, and lost a lot of sleep. Then Tuesday I cried some more. I didn't sleep well last night, either. The last two days have sucked.
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| From comics.dp.cx |
The midwife's answer to all of this was to get a shower curtain (to protect the bed), and to visualize having the baby in a calm, controlled, normal length of time. I'm trying, but I really don't think I can visualize my way out of this. And a shower curtain isn't going to do diddly squat if the baby doesn't breathe (pneumothorax is a complication of precipitous labor - it means collapsed lung), or if I bleed to death, or if I have a cervical tear, or if something else tears, or if the baby is brain damaged, or any of the other bad things that can happen with precipitous labor that I'm not making up.
I feel marginally better today (mainly due to finding out that the midwife didn't lie when she said 38 weeks initially), but I might just be exhausted. I'm trying to convince myself that Claire's labor was so fast because they induced me with Cytotec, and that I shouldn't expect this labor to be that fast again if I go into labor naturally. I'm also trying to convince myself that the 4 hours between when they put in the Cytotec and when they broke my water "count" as labor, even though they didn't hurt and I've never thought of them as labor - I was mainly just hanging out in the hospital wondering if that twinge might have been a contraction. I can totally get to the hospital in 5 hours and 9 minutes, or 3 hours and 45 minutes. It's the less-than-an-hour scenario that scares me. I'm hoping that my friend Tammy, who dreams about babies with surprising accuracy, is right when she predicts that I'll go into labor on my own on 12/15 and have a boy (12/15 is 37 weeks - the leading edge of "term"). I'm trying to remember that I have a chance of going into labor before Christmas on my own, and if not, I'm trying to get excited about a different reality for Christmas this year - mainly not having to miss all the parties leading up to Christmas. After all, if she's not concerned enough to induce me, and if going to labor before 39 weeks on my own is so rare, then there's no reason for me to sit at home all month not having a baby. We'll just take our shower curtain with us.
I know this is a stupid reason to be upset. The baby is healthy. I've been healthier than anyone expected me to be throughout the pregnancy. I'm trying really, really hard to count my blessings. And I'm trying to let go of all my expectations.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Dogs and Pregnancy
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| "Ruh-roh!" |
I took her to the vet for her checkup and she actually bared her teeth at the vet! Those who know Max know that this never, ever happens. She will grump, particularly when the kids get too close and too bouncy, but she has never even threatened to bite anyone. Now, at the time the vet was trying to check her teeth, and she and the tech had backed Max into a corner, and Max couldn't see me anymore, but still... It was a very unusual behavior. The vet said that it was like Max was a completely different dog than she was a year ago at her last exam.
Hmmmm...
Then our vet told me that I was kicking out a ton of pheromones ("Oh, excuse me!" I replied, and she laughed) because of the pregnancy, and that Max is probably reacting to the pheromones I'm exuding.
Since then I've been watching her more closely, and sure enough - this dog is being weird.
I just wondered if any of you had stories about your pets behaving strangely during your pregnancy.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Fever
It's approaching 4 am. I've been awake off and on all night - mostly on since about 2:30. I hear a thud and then shuffling, unsteady footsteps on the floor upstairs. Someone's up, and something sounds wrong.
Seconds later, before I can even heave myself to my left side and get out of the bed, I hear crying. "Mommy," she says, "Mommy, I'm sick." She crawls into bed with me, warm as toast. Too warm. 101 warm.
Tylenol, of course, and some water. We make a cozy nest on the couch so that BJ can go back to sleep and we won't wake Claire.
"Shhhh... I'm here, I'll stay with you."
It's quiet, and I can feel her relax into me. Half an hour later, I feel the fever break, and hear her breathing change from a fast pant to the comfortable pace that indicates a normal body temperature. I relax a bit and try to get comfortable enough, half sitting, to sleep.
I close my eyes and think about how weird it is that I feel most like a "real mother" when my kids are sick - when I can offer them the unique comfort of my body - my cold hands on their warm foreheads, a gentle backrub, a cuddle. I wonder if it's weird that a part of me enjoys these moments, even as my heart breaks over their discomfort. I wonder if it's strange to be the tiniest bit grateful for the excuse to slow down, clear the calendar, and just be quietly together in our jammies watching cartoons and sipping tea for a day or two.
She shifts and moans a little in her sleep, and even though I know she won't hear me, I whisper, "It's ok, Mommy's here."
***
Baby update: At 32 weeks I've gained only 15 pounds (4 of those in the last week - time to lay off the cheese balls!). Blood pressure was awesome. Baby's heart rate was around 130. I had blood drawn a couple of days ago to check my liver, and the hepatic panel looked great. The bile salts test won't be back for a few more days. Everything looks awesome, and the anxiety is a lot better than it was before.
Seconds later, before I can even heave myself to my left side and get out of the bed, I hear crying. "Mommy," she says, "Mommy, I'm sick." She crawls into bed with me, warm as toast. Too warm. 101 warm.
Tylenol, of course, and some water. We make a cozy nest on the couch so that BJ can go back to sleep and we won't wake Claire.
"Shhhh... I'm here, I'll stay with you."
It's quiet, and I can feel her relax into me. Half an hour later, I feel the fever break, and hear her breathing change from a fast pant to the comfortable pace that indicates a normal body temperature. I relax a bit and try to get comfortable enough, half sitting, to sleep.
I close my eyes and think about how weird it is that I feel most like a "real mother" when my kids are sick - when I can offer them the unique comfort of my body - my cold hands on their warm foreheads, a gentle backrub, a cuddle. I wonder if it's weird that a part of me enjoys these moments, even as my heart breaks over their discomfort. I wonder if it's strange to be the tiniest bit grateful for the excuse to slow down, clear the calendar, and just be quietly together in our jammies watching cartoons and sipping tea for a day or two.
She shifts and moans a little in her sleep, and even though I know she won't hear me, I whisper, "It's ok, Mommy's here."
***
Baby update: At 32 weeks I've gained only 15 pounds (4 of those in the last week - time to lay off the cheese balls!). Blood pressure was awesome. Baby's heart rate was around 130. I had blood drawn a couple of days ago to check my liver, and the hepatic panel looked great. The bile salts test won't be back for a few more days. Everything looks awesome, and the anxiety is a lot better than it was before.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Slowing Down
Yesterday was absurdly busy. I worked in the morning while the kids were at school, as usual. While I was there I actually managed to wrap up a big ongoing nightmare, so that was nice. I picked up the girls, then we went back to the office for a bit, then out for lunch with BJ. We went to the drug store. We spent two hours at the university doing a language study, came home for 20 minutes, then BJ called and we decided to take the kids to Dave and Busters down in Indianapolis, because BJ likes the kids like video games.
By the time we got home, around 9:30 or 10 pm, I was pooped.
Poopedness notwithstanding, I was awake from 4 am until 6 or 6:30 this morning. I got up to use the restroom and couldn't get back to sleep. My stomach was crampy and I felt really sick. I actually walked around the house a bit thinking I might be in labor (!!!) before things settled down. (Note: the reason I walked around is because practice contractions will stop when you change position, while real contractions just laugh at you when you change positions in an effort to get them to stop. I knew that if I walked around and they quit, it was false labor, also known as indigestion). Women in the 3rd trimester should avoid nachos. Why hasn't anyone thought to put that into the pregnancy handbook?
I haven't done a whole lot of anything productive today. I suppose if I can count making breakfast, lunch, snack and dinner and cleaning them up, that's something. And I helped the kids with cleaning the playroom. I managed to get the rest of the non-baby stuff out of the baby's room (except for a couple of things that are too heavy - BJ will have to get those. He was working on the siding). I tried to chase down a stray dog that I hope was a boxer and not a pit bull (because the kids were playing outside, and if someone's going to get bitten I'd rather it be me - yes, I realize the flaw in that logic), but he got away. He ran off into the woods. That was about it for exercise. Otherwise, I spent most of the day on the couch with my feet up. I even took a short nap after lunch.
Even though I know that I'm supposed to be resting and conserving energy now, and I know that growing a person is hard work, I feel guilty. It's hard to let myself slow down. But I know that I needed the rest, especially after such a busy day yesterday and a long night. It's extremely frustrating to be awake half the night knowing that it's going to impede my ability to be functional the next day. It's frustrating to have to slow down when there's so much I want and need to get done (the baby's room, and OMFG CHRISTMAS!!!). Have I mentioned that I'm cooking Thanksgiving? Hahaha! We may have Chinese. Turkey Lo Mein, anyone? Stir fried cranberries? Kung Pao Sweet Potatoes?
I really do feel good compared with how I felt at this point in my previous pregnancies. I've had very little back pain and ligament pain (knock on wood). I have no swelling in my ankles and feet. I have a lot of heartburn, but Mary Grace and Claire are made of at least 50% Tums, and they turned out fine. It's really a wonder they didn't come out pink and chalky, and that they didn't dissolve during their first baths. None of my offspring ever have to worry about bone density, that's for sure. They got enough calcium prenatally to last until they're well over 100.
I'm trying not to be the whiny pregnant person. And I'm trying not to be a total slug. But it's 8:30 now, and no one's going to judge me if I go to bed, right?
By the time we got home, around 9:30 or 10 pm, I was pooped.
Poopedness notwithstanding, I was awake from 4 am until 6 or 6:30 this morning. I got up to use the restroom and couldn't get back to sleep. My stomach was crampy and I felt really sick. I actually walked around the house a bit thinking I might be in labor (!!!) before things settled down. (Note: the reason I walked around is because practice contractions will stop when you change position, while real contractions just laugh at you when you change positions in an effort to get them to stop. I knew that if I walked around and they quit, it was false labor, also known as indigestion). Women in the 3rd trimester should avoid nachos. Why hasn't anyone thought to put that into the pregnancy handbook?
I haven't done a whole lot of anything productive today. I suppose if I can count making breakfast, lunch, snack and dinner and cleaning them up, that's something. And I helped the kids with cleaning the playroom. I managed to get the rest of the non-baby stuff out of the baby's room (except for a couple of things that are too heavy - BJ will have to get those. He was working on the siding). I tried to chase down a stray dog that I hope was a boxer and not a pit bull (because the kids were playing outside, and if someone's going to get bitten I'd rather it be me - yes, I realize the flaw in that logic), but he got away. He ran off into the woods. That was about it for exercise. Otherwise, I spent most of the day on the couch with my feet up. I even took a short nap after lunch.
Even though I know that I'm supposed to be resting and conserving energy now, and I know that growing a person is hard work, I feel guilty. It's hard to let myself slow down. But I know that I needed the rest, especially after such a busy day yesterday and a long night. It's extremely frustrating to be awake half the night knowing that it's going to impede my ability to be functional the next day. It's frustrating to have to slow down when there's so much I want and need to get done (the baby's room, and OMFG CHRISTMAS!!!). Have I mentioned that I'm cooking Thanksgiving? Hahaha! We may have Chinese. Turkey Lo Mein, anyone? Stir fried cranberries? Kung Pao Sweet Potatoes?
I really do feel good compared with how I felt at this point in my previous pregnancies. I've had very little back pain and ligament pain (knock on wood). I have no swelling in my ankles and feet. I have a lot of heartburn, but Mary Grace and Claire are made of at least 50% Tums, and they turned out fine. It's really a wonder they didn't come out pink and chalky, and that they didn't dissolve during their first baths. None of my offspring ever have to worry about bone density, that's for sure. They got enough calcium prenatally to last until they're well over 100.
I'm trying not to be the whiny pregnant person. And I'm trying not to be a total slug. But it's 8:30 now, and no one's going to judge me if I go to bed, right?
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Still Waiting on that Other Shoe
When I was 31 weeks pregnant with Mary Grace, my blood pressure was 168/90. Thanks to Gmail, I can easily go back and look through the email I sent at the time. I took my blood pressure this morning, at 31 weeks pregnant with Gozer it was 116/78.
Every time I get a headache, every time I get dizzy, every time I see a spot I take my blood pressure. It's almost silly. And it hasn't been over 130/90 at any point throughout this pregnancy.
So why can't I relax and trust that it'll continue to stay healthy?
It's similar with the ICP. I went back through my email and found that I came down with that at 32 weeks pregnant with Claire. Guess who is having blood drawn next week to check on her liver.
If I get all the way to the end of this pregnancy and nothing goes wrong, I'm going to feel pretty silly for spending all of this time worrying.
I'm also going to feel very relieved and grateful.
Every time I get a headache, every time I get dizzy, every time I see a spot I take my blood pressure. It's almost silly. And it hasn't been over 130/90 at any point throughout this pregnancy.
So why can't I relax and trust that it'll continue to stay healthy?
It's similar with the ICP. I went back through my email and found that I came down with that at 32 weeks pregnant with Claire. Guess who is having blood drawn next week to check on her liver.
If I get all the way to the end of this pregnancy and nothing goes wrong, I'm going to feel pretty silly for spending all of this time worrying.
I'm also going to feel very relieved and grateful.
Friday, October 29, 2010
30 Week Baby Update
The only specific number I remember from yesterday's trip to the midwife is 1 - that's the number of pounds I gained, bringing my total up to 11. Woo hoo!
My blood pressure was great, baby's heart rate was great, I'm measuring right where I should be. Everything looks super.
We're going to re-run the liver panel and the bile salts test in 2 weeks. I came down with ICP with Claire at 32 weeks. You can imagine how much the anxiety level is increasing as we get closer to that milestone. I'm working on it.
This visit was fun. Mary Grace has been worrying about the baby and me, so I e-mailed my midwife and said, "Can I bring her to meet you?" and my awesome midwife said, "Let's reschedule your appointment for 1 pm so that I have more time to visit with her." Wow! So, we showed MG the little models of babies at various stages, and Sharon explained how the baby is stuck inside and isn't going to just "fall out" (in spite of the jokes Mommy makes), and we listened to the baby's heartbeat... She was so little when I was pregnant with Claire that she didn't really "get it." Claire's 3-1/2 now and she doesn't even really "get it," and MG was only 19 months old when Claire was born. It's neat to be able to include her this time, and to see her excitement. She can hardly wait to be a "double big sister."
Eight more weeks. Wow.
My blood pressure was great, baby's heart rate was great, I'm measuring right where I should be. Everything looks super.
We're going to re-run the liver panel and the bile salts test in 2 weeks. I came down with ICP with Claire at 32 weeks. You can imagine how much the anxiety level is increasing as we get closer to that milestone. I'm working on it.
This visit was fun. Mary Grace has been worrying about the baby and me, so I e-mailed my midwife and said, "Can I bring her to meet you?" and my awesome midwife said, "Let's reschedule your appointment for 1 pm so that I have more time to visit with her." Wow! So, we showed MG the little models of babies at various stages, and Sharon explained how the baby is stuck inside and isn't going to just "fall out" (in spite of the jokes Mommy makes), and we listened to the baby's heartbeat... She was so little when I was pregnant with Claire that she didn't really "get it." Claire's 3-1/2 now and she doesn't even really "get it," and MG was only 19 months old when Claire was born. It's neat to be able to include her this time, and to see her excitement. She can hardly wait to be a "double big sister."
Eight more weeks. Wow.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Jedi Mind Tricks with Dr. Dave
Yes, of course I'm in therapy. I'm not ashamed to admit it. I've done the whole "Oh, I'm so ashamed of my PAMD/PPD" thing before, and it was bad for everyone - my husband, my kids, my extended family, my friends... Not to mention that it was bad for me. This time I'm charging into it head first, with my face painted blue and a sword aloft, screaming, "FREEDOM!" like some pregnant Mel Gibson...
I'll give you a second to let that mental image sink in.
The thing I love about Dr. Dave is that we don't spend a lot of time with the whole "tell me about your childhood" shtick. Yes, I've told him enough about my background that he has a good sense of who I am and where I come from. But he doesn't bother with much of it. His approach to psychology is a lot more practical (not to mention faster!) and, in my experience, it really works.
If you're going through anxiety or depression, whether it's associated with pregnancy or not, I can't recommend Cognitive Behavioral Therapy enough. Basically, the premise is that your thoughts create your emotions - not the other way around. A lot of people think that they feel sad, and that's why they're having sad thoughts. In truth, though, you have the sad thoughts first, and those sad thoughts make you feel sadness.
Think about it. You could see a perfectly neutral thing - how about a suitcase? So you see this suitcase, and it reminds you of the trip you just took to your favorite place, and you have all these happy thoughts of all the fun you had, and consequently you start to feel happy. Meanwhile, I see the suitcase, and I think about the business trip BJ has coming up, and how lonely I'm going to be, and how much work it's going to be to take care of the kids by myself, and then I start worrying about going into labor while he's gone, or his plane crashing, and suddenly I'm sad and anxious. The suitcase was neutral in both cases - it was the thoughts that were happy or sad. Those thoughts caused the emotions we experienced.
The idea of CBT is that you can get in better thought habits - you can train yourself to neutralize the negative thoughts that we all have, and over time they become less and less powerful. It actually re-wires the neural pathways in the brain, which is pretty amazing when you think about it.
So how am I re-wiring my brain these days? Well, last week we decided that whenever I have an anxious thought (and sometimes they're not even fully-formed thoughts, sometimes it's just an "Oh shit!" feeling that hits me out of the blue, especially in the middle of the night, and I have to really think about what thought triggered it - thoughts are sneaky!), I deliberately say to myself, "Reducing my anxiety level is good for the baby, it's good for the labor and delivery, and it will improve my ability to make decisions." (I actually "hear" it in Dr. Dave's voice, which I find funny.) That phrase addresses some of the specific concerns that underlie what's been causing my anxiety - that I'll hurt the baby by freaking out all the time, that something bad will happen during labor, and that I won't make good decisions about the delivery (for example, whether or not to induce). I've been thinking that thought 4 - 6 times a day, sometimes more, and it's really helping. I'd say that alone reduced my anxiety from an 8 (on a scale of one to ten) to a 6 or 6-1/2.
I've also been doing some deep breathing. I have a tendency (especially as I get physically bigger) to breathe very shallowly. I'm getting a lot better about breathing into my abdomen, which is probably an awful lot better for the baby. It's also helping me to relax.
Another trick Dr. Dave taught me today was the Fade Technique. Let's say that BJ is on a business trip. Before, because I'm a nutjob, I would have a lot of anxiety about his flight. I would picture, like a horror movie, all the terrible things that could happen in excruciating detail. Then I'd get on FlightAware.com and I'd hold his plane in the air through the sheer force of my own will, only relaxing (a little) when he landed safely (after all, he still has to fly home). Well, from now on when I have those thoughts, I'm going to deliberately picture BJ on the plane, happy and safe, reading and drinking a Coke, maybe taking a nap, then landing safely, getting his luggage, and arriving at his hotel. For every one time I go all horror movie in my head, I'm going to imagine the happy outcome twice, in detail. Research shows that over time the horror movie will fade and it won't bother me anymore.
The third technique was the first one he taught me, back when MG was a baby and I saw him before. I had a lot of anxiety that I was going to ruin her, and that if I loved her the best way to protect her was to get as far away from her as possible because I'm such a horrible mother. Dr. Dave had me write down a list of what constitutes a "good mother." Big surprise, I was already doing everything on my list. So, I logic myself out of that, "I'm a bad mom!" thought, now, when it comes. It was hard at first, but it's gotten really easy now. Now when that voice says, "You're an awful mother!" it doesn't take any mental effort or energy at all for me to shout it down.
I do this obsessive anxious magical thinking crazy-making in several different ways, so we talked about some different ways I can apply these three techniques to some specific things I tend to worry about.
Dr. Dave told me about a longitudinal study (14 years?) that was done on normal, healthy people. They kept track of all the things they worried about. Over the course of the study, 98% of the things that they'd worried about never happened at all, and the 2% that did happen weren't as bad as the people had predicted. He said that people tend to overestimate the likelihood that something bad will happen, and at the same time they'll underestimate their own capacity to deal with it. "Oh yeah, I totally do that," I said.
So that's what I'm working on right now. We don't expect to get me to the point of having no anxiety at all - only sociopaths can claim that distinction, and I don't aspire to be one! There's a functional level of anxiety around 3 or 4 on a scale of one to ten, that's actually beneficial. It's an inverted U shape, with anxiety on the x-axis and performance or ability to function on the y-axis (see image below which I borrowed from this website). I was at an 8 before, as I mentioned. I'd say I'm down to a 6-1/2 now. We're aiming for that optimal 3 or 4.
I'm mainly writing this post for myself, as a record of what I've learned in therapy so that I can go back and re-read it over the coming weeks and months. There's an off chance that it might help someone else, too. If you're reading this, though, please know that I'm not a psychiatric professional myself, and this is written based on my own experiences and my own recollections from therapy, and that it is not meant to be advice of any kind, except maybe, "Find yourself a cognitive behavioral therapist!" if you're struggling. You don't have to suffer.
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| Baby on Board? |
The thing I love about Dr. Dave is that we don't spend a lot of time with the whole "tell me about your childhood" shtick. Yes, I've told him enough about my background that he has a good sense of who I am and where I come from. But he doesn't bother with much of it. His approach to psychology is a lot more practical (not to mention faster!) and, in my experience, it really works.
If you're going through anxiety or depression, whether it's associated with pregnancy or not, I can't recommend Cognitive Behavioral Therapy enough. Basically, the premise is that your thoughts create your emotions - not the other way around. A lot of people think that they feel sad, and that's why they're having sad thoughts. In truth, though, you have the sad thoughts first, and those sad thoughts make you feel sadness.
Think about it. You could see a perfectly neutral thing - how about a suitcase? So you see this suitcase, and it reminds you of the trip you just took to your favorite place, and you have all these happy thoughts of all the fun you had, and consequently you start to feel happy. Meanwhile, I see the suitcase, and I think about the business trip BJ has coming up, and how lonely I'm going to be, and how much work it's going to be to take care of the kids by myself, and then I start worrying about going into labor while he's gone, or his plane crashing, and suddenly I'm sad and anxious. The suitcase was neutral in both cases - it was the thoughts that were happy or sad. Those thoughts caused the emotions we experienced.
The idea of CBT is that you can get in better thought habits - you can train yourself to neutralize the negative thoughts that we all have, and over time they become less and less powerful. It actually re-wires the neural pathways in the brain, which is pretty amazing when you think about it.
So how am I re-wiring my brain these days? Well, last week we decided that whenever I have an anxious thought (and sometimes they're not even fully-formed thoughts, sometimes it's just an "Oh shit!" feeling that hits me out of the blue, especially in the middle of the night, and I have to really think about what thought triggered it - thoughts are sneaky!), I deliberately say to myself, "Reducing my anxiety level is good for the baby, it's good for the labor and delivery, and it will improve my ability to make decisions." (I actually "hear" it in Dr. Dave's voice, which I find funny.) That phrase addresses some of the specific concerns that underlie what's been causing my anxiety - that I'll hurt the baby by freaking out all the time, that something bad will happen during labor, and that I won't make good decisions about the delivery (for example, whether or not to induce). I've been thinking that thought 4 - 6 times a day, sometimes more, and it's really helping. I'd say that alone reduced my anxiety from an 8 (on a scale of one to ten) to a 6 or 6-1/2.
I've also been doing some deep breathing. I have a tendency (especially as I get physically bigger) to breathe very shallowly. I'm getting a lot better about breathing into my abdomen, which is probably an awful lot better for the baby. It's also helping me to relax.
Another trick Dr. Dave taught me today was the Fade Technique. Let's say that BJ is on a business trip. Before, because I'm a nutjob, I would have a lot of anxiety about his flight. I would picture, like a horror movie, all the terrible things that could happen in excruciating detail. Then I'd get on FlightAware.com and I'd hold his plane in the air through the sheer force of my own will, only relaxing (a little) when he landed safely (after all, he still has to fly home). Well, from now on when I have those thoughts, I'm going to deliberately picture BJ on the plane, happy and safe, reading and drinking a Coke, maybe taking a nap, then landing safely, getting his luggage, and arriving at his hotel. For every one time I go all horror movie in my head, I'm going to imagine the happy outcome twice, in detail. Research shows that over time the horror movie will fade and it won't bother me anymore.
The third technique was the first one he taught me, back when MG was a baby and I saw him before. I had a lot of anxiety that I was going to ruin her, and that if I loved her the best way to protect her was to get as far away from her as possible because I'm such a horrible mother. Dr. Dave had me write down a list of what constitutes a "good mother." Big surprise, I was already doing everything on my list. So, I logic myself out of that, "I'm a bad mom!" thought, now, when it comes. It was hard at first, but it's gotten really easy now. Now when that voice says, "You're an awful mother!" it doesn't take any mental effort or energy at all for me to shout it down.
I do this obsessive anxious magical thinking crazy-making in several different ways, so we talked about some different ways I can apply these three techniques to some specific things I tend to worry about.
Dr. Dave told me about a longitudinal study (14 years?) that was done on normal, healthy people. They kept track of all the things they worried about. Over the course of the study, 98% of the things that they'd worried about never happened at all, and the 2% that did happen weren't as bad as the people had predicted. He said that people tend to overestimate the likelihood that something bad will happen, and at the same time they'll underestimate their own capacity to deal with it. "Oh yeah, I totally do that," I said.
So that's what I'm working on right now. We don't expect to get me to the point of having no anxiety at all - only sociopaths can claim that distinction, and I don't aspire to be one! There's a functional level of anxiety around 3 or 4 on a scale of one to ten, that's actually beneficial. It's an inverted U shape, with anxiety on the x-axis and performance or ability to function on the y-axis (see image below which I borrowed from this website). I was at an 8 before, as I mentioned. I'd say I'm down to a 6-1/2 now. We're aiming for that optimal 3 or 4.
I'm mainly writing this post for myself, as a record of what I've learned in therapy so that I can go back and re-read it over the coming weeks and months. There's an off chance that it might help someone else, too. If you're reading this, though, please know that I'm not a psychiatric professional myself, and this is written based on my own experiences and my own recollections from therapy, and that it is not meant to be advice of any kind, except maybe, "Find yourself a cognitive behavioral therapist!" if you're struggling. You don't have to suffer.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Hanging in there
Hello, incredibly neglected blog readers.
I'm still here.
I'm still having a lot of anxiety, a lot of intrusive thoughts. I've spent a lot of time crying lately.
It's so stupid because I want this baby so much (we tried for a year!), and I love my family, and I'm so, so lucky... I don't know why I'm ruining it for myself.
It is what it is. It is not in my control. I don't choose this.
I'm spending a lot of time reading about anxiety, particularly anxiety during pregnancy and postpartum. I'm spending a lot of time doing breathing exercises. I'm doing housework, because when the house is a mess, the anxiety gets worse (in the form of "I'm a terrible mother, look at this house! What a failure I am!" etc.).
It's weird that at my most-crazy, my house is cleaner than ever, isn't it? I've made my bed every morning for over three weeks - I didn't ever do that before. (Part of it is because our bedroom is downstairs now, but still.)
I've realized that I was probably misdiagnosed last time - I think it has always been anxiety. I don't think it was ever classic postpartum depression. I could go into the reasons why, but to mentally tally them up so I could list them would be hard right now, so I won't. But I think this is the same as what happened when I was pregnant with Mary Grace. And it must just be part of how I do pregnancy. With Claire, I could focus it on her because I had ICP and there was a risk that she could die - so I had an appropriate outlet for my anxiety (not to mention 100 mg a day of Zoloft!). Now, because this pregnancy is healthy (and I'm so grateful that it is!) I don't have that appropriate channel or outlet. And as we get closer to the point at which it all went wrong with Claire (32 weeks) the anxiety gets worse. I'm waiting for the ICP shoe to drop, or the preeclampsia shoe to drop, and it's maddening.
I'm not sleeping well, or resting well during the day. I'm taking the kids out a lot less. Most afternoons we stay close to home. Thank goodness they have friends in the neighborhood, so they aren't completely bored out of their skulls. I'm going to try to take them to get new shoes this afternoon. We'll see.
The midwife and I are meeting every two weeks, now, in light of what's going on. She gave me her cell phone number today. I told her I'd try really hard not to call her at 3 am to ask stupid questions. She's so great, though, she probably wouldn't mind if I did.
This is temporary. I just have to keep breathing for the next 3 months, and then the first 6 months after the baby comes, and after that things will be fine again. I know they will. Things got fine again after Mary Grace was born, and I never thought they would. They'll be fine again by next summer, next fall at the latest. This is just a season. I'm managing it all so much better this time than I did when I had Mary Grace. I'm not being stubborn like I was then, when I refused to admit that I was struggling. I'm getting help to manage it. I'm leaning on BJ, and on my family and my friends. I'm learning new ways to cope with intrusive thoughts. I'm being proactive, and not waiting until I'm at my wit's end to react.
I'm doing everything I can.
I've only gained 5 pounds (at 26 weeks!). I'm measuring one week ahead (27 cm). My blood pressure is fine. I did the glucose tolerance test today (yuck!) and we drew a liver panel, too, to check on the ICP. I've got another blood draw tomorrow for bile salts, but for that one I need to fast, so we couldn't do them all at once. The baby, thank goodness, is healthy and strong, his or her heart rate was 140 today in spite of the massive dose of glucose. Everything would be going perfectly if I could just get out of my own head.
I'm still here.
I'm still having a lot of anxiety, a lot of intrusive thoughts. I've spent a lot of time crying lately.
It's so stupid because I want this baby so much (we tried for a year!), and I love my family, and I'm so, so lucky... I don't know why I'm ruining it for myself.
It is what it is. It is not in my control. I don't choose this.
I'm spending a lot of time reading about anxiety, particularly anxiety during pregnancy and postpartum. I'm spending a lot of time doing breathing exercises. I'm doing housework, because when the house is a mess, the anxiety gets worse (in the form of "I'm a terrible mother, look at this house! What a failure I am!" etc.).
It's weird that at my most-crazy, my house is cleaner than ever, isn't it? I've made my bed every morning for over three weeks - I didn't ever do that before. (Part of it is because our bedroom is downstairs now, but still.)
I've realized that I was probably misdiagnosed last time - I think it has always been anxiety. I don't think it was ever classic postpartum depression. I could go into the reasons why, but to mentally tally them up so I could list them would be hard right now, so I won't. But I think this is the same as what happened when I was pregnant with Mary Grace. And it must just be part of how I do pregnancy. With Claire, I could focus it on her because I had ICP and there was a risk that she could die - so I had an appropriate outlet for my anxiety (not to mention 100 mg a day of Zoloft!). Now, because this pregnancy is healthy (and I'm so grateful that it is!) I don't have that appropriate channel or outlet. And as we get closer to the point at which it all went wrong with Claire (32 weeks) the anxiety gets worse. I'm waiting for the ICP shoe to drop, or the preeclampsia shoe to drop, and it's maddening.
I'm not sleeping well, or resting well during the day. I'm taking the kids out a lot less. Most afternoons we stay close to home. Thank goodness they have friends in the neighborhood, so they aren't completely bored out of their skulls. I'm going to try to take them to get new shoes this afternoon. We'll see.
The midwife and I are meeting every two weeks, now, in light of what's going on. She gave me her cell phone number today. I told her I'd try really hard not to call her at 3 am to ask stupid questions. She's so great, though, she probably wouldn't mind if I did.
This is temporary. I just have to keep breathing for the next 3 months, and then the first 6 months after the baby comes, and after that things will be fine again. I know they will. Things got fine again after Mary Grace was born, and I never thought they would. They'll be fine again by next summer, next fall at the latest. This is just a season. I'm managing it all so much better this time than I did when I had Mary Grace. I'm not being stubborn like I was then, when I refused to admit that I was struggling. I'm getting help to manage it. I'm leaning on BJ, and on my family and my friends. I'm learning new ways to cope with intrusive thoughts. I'm being proactive, and not waiting until I'm at my wit's end to react.
I'm doing everything I can.
I've only gained 5 pounds (at 26 weeks!). I'm measuring one week ahead (27 cm). My blood pressure is fine. I did the glucose tolerance test today (yuck!) and we drew a liver panel, too, to check on the ICP. I've got another blood draw tomorrow for bile salts, but for that one I need to fast, so we couldn't do them all at once. The baby, thank goodness, is healthy and strong, his or her heart rate was 140 today in spite of the massive dose of glucose. Everything would be going perfectly if I could just get out of my own head.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
How Not To Say "I Was Wrong"
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| Nope, I don't see any compassion here. |
It is clear that she does not understand the difference between situational depression and clinical depression. It is clear that she has never suffered from clinical depression herself, nor has she any first hand experience with clinical depression in a loved one. It is further clear from her own website that she has no medical or psychiatric training whatsoever.
I have interacted with this woman in e-mail all day. I have urged her to educate herself, and she has repeatedly stated that in her opinion, there is no such thing as chemically-based depression, postpartum or otherwise. Nevermind that basically everyone in the medical field agrees that depression is caused by a chemical imbalance. Pat Brown thinks that if you've had a baby and you're depressed, it's all your own fault.
It is clear from my 12 hours of dealing with her that she profoundly lacks empathy and compassion. This just proves it (you have to click through - it's appalling, and I can't figure out how to post it here). She even bragged about that lovely little Facebook status update on Twitter!
You have to be a pretty sick, twisted bitch to bully pregnant women and new mothers - especially new mothers who are suffering from PPD. You have to have a heart made of ice to think that it's ok to trivialize the struggles of this vulnerable population, to discourage them from seeking help, to blame the victim. As I said in my initial letter to her - women suffering from PPD judge themselves enough, we don't need the judgment of people like her. She's just kicking women when they're down. That's reprehensible. Who does that?
I'm pretty sure that Cruella de Brown kicks kittens and skins puppies in her spare time. She probably also stops by the hospital to pinch all the newborns until they cry, too.
She's a professional bullshitter. That is all. She is not a doctor. She is not a psychiatrist. She is not an expert. The jury is still out on whether or not she is even human. Certainly I have never met a human being who lacked compassion so profoundly (but I live in the midwest, where people are generally nice and make sense). She goes on Nancy Grace and other shows like that and speculates - with no regard at all for the facts of any case that she's talking about. Why should we listen to her opinion when it comes to PPD? Answer: We shouldn't. And AOL News should be ashamed of themselves for listening to her in the first place.
Maybe she DOES have a mental illness. However, just like the mothers who harm their children, her mental illness does NOT excuse her behavior.
Here are the facts - postpartum depression is a debilitating mood disorder which has several possible causes. Some of those causes are hormonal (estrogen, progesterone, thyroid, oxytocin, and a host of other chemicals at work in the brain and body during and after pregnancy can cause disruption). Some of the causes are situational (sleep deprivation, lack of support, etc.)... (train of thought derailment... please stand by)
You know, I took a class in college that talked about personality and how it develops, and we talked about all the different theories - nature, nurture, evolutionary, biological, etc. and each day in class, the professor would repeat that this or that factor was "necessary, but not sufficient," meaning that it played a part in the story, but it wasn't the whole story. That phrase stuck with me. Whenever anyone has a black and white opinion about something, especially something as complicated as personality or disease or disorder, I always hear that prof's voice in my head, saying, "It is necessary, but it is not sufficient....."
Anyway, back to the facts... PPD IS treatable. The most effective treatment regimen combines therapy and medication. Many depression meds (including Zoloft, which saved me) are approved for use while breastfeeding, so don't let nursing stop you from seeking help if you need it. Depression isn't just "sadness." (Mine manifested itself in the form of anger, frustration, crippling anxiety, intrusive thoughts about harm coming to the baby {or doing the baby harm}, and a deep desire to get as far away from my family as possible before I "screwed them up." I knew, in some deep part of my brain that was still "me" that it didn't make any sense, but I couldn't stop myself from having those feelings and thoughts - even though I wanted so desperately to be happy and normal.)
If you even think for a moment that you might be experiencing something abnormal, please talk to your doctor right away. There are lots of shades of gray with PPD. You might have a mild case that can be "cured" with a little extra sleep and support, or maybe improvements in diet and exercise. You might need medication and therapy. You might need even more intervention. Some women, like Heather Armstrong of Dooce.com, are hospitalized, temporarily, until things are under control.
Please don't listen to the Pat Browns of the world who would shame you and blame you for feeling the way you do. Pat Brown does NOT know what she's talking about. Listen to all of us who have been there, and who have come out on the other side of it. It is not your fault. It is not your fault. It is not your fault.
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