Summer winds

We've had exceptionally warm weather here in the Midwest. I hear the birds chirping in the early morning and see the sun rising on my way to work. Normally, the transition from winter to spring/summer was something I looked forward to, something I would eagerly anticipate every year. But lately, it's a reminder of what last year's spring/summer meant to me. It marked the beginning of my grief journey, the beginning of feeling the most immense pain of my life. It marks the death of Ethan.

I remember so clearly, the warm wind on my tear moistened cheeks, my swollen eyes, I looked like a boxer the day after a big match. I wanted to be away from it, away from the sunlight. I wanted to recluse in the solitude of my bedroom, but I couldn't. I had Jason to look after. He kept me going. He was also broken. After the funeral everyone returned to their lives, me I was just beginning my new life, the life of a mother of a dead baby.

Not was I just learning how to function in my new reality, I was also experiencing engorged breasts. My body apparently didn't know I had no baby to nurse. My boobs were hard as rocks. I had to wear nursery pads, I remember when my husband returned from the grocery store with the box of them, I broke down. The box had a chunky, smiling baby being held by his gleaming mother. I grabbed the box and threw it way, took out the pads and placed them in my sanitary napkin pile. I wanted nothing more than to nurse my baby, nurture my Ethan. I had the constant reminder of physical pain that indeed there was no baby, but the milk kept flowing as if trying to keep up with the tears I was shedding. I remember sobbing in the shower, this was my safe place to cry, and looking down at my breast release the milk. It was one of the worst reminders of what I should have been doing, nursing my child. I did look up on the Internet how to dry out your milk and would find all of these nursing mother websites. Eventually, I managed to read a couple of them and concluded that tightly bounded breast would slow down the milk production, I did, with a huge ace wrap I had my husband bind my breast. I also read along the way that frozen cabbage leaves applied to the breast would lessen the pain. I tried this as well, did it work? I'm not sure, but the coldness did soothe somewhat. After about 1 month, the milk did stop flowing. Although, I continued to leak for quite some time after that.

May sweeps came and went, I didn't have the TV shows I was used to watching put me in a trance. Everything was changing, school was out, kids were playing outside, the sun was brighter and our days were painfully long. Outside everybody was happy, smiling, lives continued. Yet, mine and that of our family halted to a complete stop. We were all lost. We didn't know what to do with ourselves. I remember feeling completely at a loss. My house was in shambles, I was barely able to take care of Jason's needs. I didn't want to cry in front of him, yet I was crying all day long. Eventually, my husband returned to work. And I was home with Jason, alone with him. I didn't have the energy to take him outside to play, I didn't want to see anybody. But, I had to do something. I had to take care of him. So, my days consisted of searching and reading blogs, I started my own deadbabymama blog. I let Jason do the unthinkable, vegetate in front of the TV. Then I slowly began to get a routine going again, I started going to the YMCA. This was my way of letting Jason play with other kids while in the kid watch area. And I began walking then running. This was the only thing that would release the pressure building up in my chest, I wanted to scream, I felt as if my head would soon burst. I would blast the music in my ears and run, run and run. I was sweating and the sweat would mask my tears. I would listen to all of the music that I'd listen to during my pregnancy, and I would think of Ethan and cry because he was no longer here, he was dead. We'd stay there 2 hours a day. And this is how I spent those painfully long days of summer.

As the summer winds begin to make an appearance once again, I fear going through the same kind of summer I had last year. I fear the milk engorged breasts with no baby to nurse, I fear the long, dreadful summer days. I fear the look of Jason's eyes looking into mine and asking, "Mommy why did our baby die?"

Baby showers, nurseries, labor ...

Everyone wants to ask me about these things.

Am I having a baby shower? NO

Have I picked out the nursery decor? Again, the answer is NO.

Where will I deliver, am I having an epidural? I will deliver at the same hospital where I delivered my other son. Where I delivered my dead son. Usually, that's enough to stop the pregnancy questions.

I know these are all part of the pregnancy interrogation, and they are not ill intentioned questions, but they bug me. I want to scream, "I'm freaking terrified, I'm afraid of this baby dying as well, I don't really know if this baby will live!" I had the baby shower last time, I had the nursery decor picked out and he still died. I know those things are not important. What's important, my sanity for starters. Controlling my gestational diabetes, monitoring my blood pressure, ask me about that.

The other day at work, one of the very pregnant respiratory therapists, came down and I cowered. I hid, I didn't want to see her nor did I want her to see my bump. I've been doing this a lot more, in public I hide my pregnant belly. Am I ashamed, no, I'm just trying to protect myself. I don't know if this makes sense, but I don't want people to see me pregnant again and ask me questions about this pregnancy, and if the unimaginable happens I don't want to explain why I don't have a living baby again. I know I sound crazy huh.

As my sister asked me a couple weeks ago, am I not happy. Well, of course I'm happy. I love this little girl so much. Of course I do she is my little girl, my little Lauren. Yes, I do get excited and actually let my mind go there, to the possibility that she will live. But, then my grief kicks in, the doubts, the fear all of it, it comes crashing down and I go back to my reality. I have already lost a son, he's dead and I'm not immune to the same thing happening again.

I am praying that this doesn't happen again. I am hopelessly in love with her. She is quite the kicker and mover. I am amazed with her movement. I love her, and love feeling her move inside. I have life again growing in my womb. But, I am scared, my womb proved to be a deadly tomb for Ethan. My body killed Ethan. I don't want it to happen again, actually that is an understatement I am begging my body, the universe, God to stop it from happening again. I am approaching 22 weeks this weekend, just 10 weeks before my world came crashing down on me last time. It is a constant countdown, 16-15 more weeks before I can be induced. But, will I make it? And Ethan's birthday is quickly approaching, May 23rd. It will be one year since I said Hello and Goodbye to Ethan. One year since I met him, held him, marveled at his beautiful face, his beautiful nose, his head full of black curls. There are times when I want to go back to that day, just to be able to hold him again. I wish I could go back to that day to take a picture of his feet, I saw them and I have footprints of his feet, but I never took a picture of his toes, his tiny feet.

The other day, I was able to talk about Ethan's birth without crying. I found myself wanting to tell Ethan's birth story. Someone made a comment about my pain tolerance and this impending birth and I stopped her in her tracks and reminded her that I have been through labor before. I labored to bring Ethan into this world, yes he was born, silently he was born into my awaiting arms. I've been through it before. I had given birth. Although, I didn't push him out, no he was taken from my womb, just the same way he was taken from us.

Why does it keep happening?

I get a call from my Mom yesterday, she told me my cousins wife delivered their son, he was stillborn. She was 36 weeks pregnant, uneventful pregnancy. She did not feel him move and went in to get checked and he had died. It was a cord accident. WHY????

We are first cousins, shouldn't they somehow be protected with statistics since it happened to me already. Of course not. We've all been there, the wrong side of the statistics. I hate when another baby dies. I wish Ethan would've been the last baby to die this way. It's horrible, and it happens all too frequently.

And what is the medical community doing about this? NOTHING. Every doctor I have spoken to, with a few exceptions, make it sound as if stillbirth is a thing of the past that happens sporadically. And I hate the phrase, "It was a fluke".

I just can't believe it. Our family has been struck again. Why???

I also had a mini freakout Saturday. She was moving... a lot. It scared me, it took me back to night before Ethan died. I checked her heartbeat and she was thumping nicely in the 150s. But, all the movement, it flooded my body with emotions I haven't felt recently. The grief came pouring in. Followed by the guilt. Could I have done something about it. Maybe if I had a doppler then, could I have detected a change in heart rate.

As if that wasn't enough, I thought what if all the doppler hearings are forcing her to move in such a way to get her cord tangled up into a true knot. Am I causing a true knot now? I was a mess. I'm just so scared. I'm scared of losing another baby. I don't know if I will survive. Then I think of little Jason, what will it do to him if this happens again. What will it do to my family?

Approaching 20 weeks...

And I am starting to get scared shitless. Tomorrow I will be 20 weeks, over the half way mark for me. I'm excited, yet extremely terrified of this baby dying. Although I have allowed myself to name this baby. My thought is, if something happens, I will need to name the baby anyway. I'm always afraid of testing fate again. I don't dare look at the baby aisle, on occasion I will browse online at baby stuff and then I jump back and think to myself I am getting way ahead of myself.

However, I am definitely looking very pregnant these days. I do marvel at my changing body once again, but only in private. Yet, now strangers are asking the ever present, question "Is this your first?" They all mean well I'm sure. But it stings so much, on the one hand, we have Jason. He's 6 years old, not biologically ours, but there is just no difference. Second, no this is not my first pregnancy, I also have a son, Ethan. Such a simple question, yet it elicits so many emotions.

As far as the pregnancy, all seems to be relatively well. I have been diagnosed with gestational diabetes again. But, it is diet controlled and I'm doing pretty well. Dr. J wanted to test me early since I had GD last time. My hypertension is under control. Even at 32 weeks pregnant with Ethan, I was running systolic blood pressures in the one teens. I haven't gained much weight this time around, only 5 lbs. I attribute it to my diabetic diet. NO FUN :( But, overall all seems well.

We had our 18 week extensive ultrasound, and all looks well. 4 chamber heart, 2 kidneys, 10 toes and 10 fingers. And the baby weighs 9 ounces already. My parents came to visit the night before to accompany us to the ultrasound. It meant so much to me. The night before, my Dad bought a dozen roses and gave them to me. He said they were not for me but for his GRANDDAUGHTER ! Well, he was absolutely right. We are having a GIRL!!! We have decided to name our little girl,
Lauren Daniella. Daniella after my Dad.

Quick update

Well, I just returned from my OB's office. I completed the 1 hour glucose tolerance test. And I received the results of my repeat antibodies test. They are still present, still nonspecific and my Dr's partner assured me they checked for all of the antibodies which could possible affect the baby and they are not there. YAY!!!!! She said sometimes they are transient antibodies and mean nothing to a pregnancy. She reassured me and told me not to worry. They will repeat the test at 28 weeks.

I'm relieved! Now I'm off to my scheduled massage appointment.

Please grant me serenity...

It's been a while since I've blogged, Jason is sick. I think he has the flu, it's definitely going around. I would rather see him jumping off the sofa then sleeping all day. We're on day 2, I hope he gets better soon.

On to other news, I am now a few days from being 16 weeks pregnant. We just recently told my parents the news and it's out at work as well. I had my OB appt. today. The heart rate was 160, I've gained 3lbs and all seemed to be going well. Then my OB told me my blood test revealed positive antibodies. It caught me off guard. Antibodies. WTF? She went on to explain that I have antibodies present on my red blood cells but not in sufficient quantity to be able to determine what specific antigen they are reacting to. She said at this point, the baby is fine. But she went ahead and we had a redrawn done. It took me a while to absorb all of this information. On the drive home, I realized that if she said the baby is fine RIGHT NOW, that could change if I continue to have these antibodies. I am Rh positive, and so is my husband. So there is no way the baby could be Rh negative. So, what else could it be. Then I googled it, and there is so many different antibodies. I had a mini freakout, but had to stop to take care of Jason.

So, for now. I am going to cross my fingers and pray that the repeat blood draw doesn't reveal anymore antibodies. It's so frustrating, just when I began to actually allow myself to feel hope. This happens. Although, Dr. J didn't seem to concerned. She said sometimes the blood work will reveal these antibodies and they mean nothing. I hope this is the case.

Cautiously optimistic

It's been a while since I last posted. I've been around, reading all of your blogs, basking in the happiness of fellow bloggers whom have just had their healthy babies. Congratulations! I am so happy on the arrival of your little bundle of joys. It gives me HOPE. Again, Congratulations!!!

And of course, I'm walking along with you, walking through the journey of infertility, injections, IUIs and IVF. I hold you all dear and close to my heart. Wishing you well, sending baby dust your way.

My pregnancy is going well so far. I am now 12ish weeks pregnant, past the "safety" mark. Is it ever safe? No, I think not, but I will pretend it is. I need to be in oblivion again. Only, I can't, I've traveled through that treacherous path before, I know there is never a safe time in pregnancy.

I had my first OB appointment last week. It went as well as could be expected. Of course, being there brought back all the painful memories of discovering that Ethan had died. But, I survived. I made it through the appointment without crying the entire time. Since it was my first appointment, I first met with the nurse, Michelle, she was great. She initially put me in the room where we could not hear his heartbeat, and I just lost it. She moved us into another room immediately, she was sympathetic and didn't make me repeat my whole history. That, in itself, is also very painful. Finally, I met with Dr. J, I just love her. She was elated to have us there. As was I, I can't imagine anybody else treating us. We heard the baby's heartbeat. I love that sound.

Which brings me to my confession, I bought a fetal doppler and absolutely love it. I am officially addicted to it. I am listening to the baby, first thing in the morning and before I go to bed. Wow. I just love it.

Back to my appointment, we did talk about the whole course of action for the pregnancy and she said most likely I would deliver early. She suggested maybe 36-37 weeks, depending on an amnio to determine lung maturity. But, no longer than 39 weeks. I have predisposing factors which can contribute to poor placental function. I have hypertension and lupus anticoagulant. She also said I'd have weekly ultrasounds and biweekly stress test and biophysical profiles. So, there you have it. I'm OK with this, I would feel better. At the end, I just want to hold a live baby in my arms.

This Friday I have my next appointment with the MFM doctor. Where I have elected to have the first trimester screening. I'm excited, and of course cautiously optimistic. I didn't do any of these test with Ethan, but I opted to have it just to get the detailed ultrasounds early on. Of course, they measure the nuchal fold. But, I know for sure, I will not do an amnio or CVS. If there is a risk of miscarrying, I will not take that chance. I've been on the other side of the statistics and don't want to be there again.

Now, I just have to visualize the ultrasound machine. I have to remember to breathe. I think I will need to have a pedicure or massage before the appointment. Just thinking of the ultrasound, I get panicked. I go back to May 21st, when it was confirmed that Ethan died. But, I will get through this, I will do it. I can do this. I have no choice.