This is why they tell you never say never.
My daughter, the Trekkie
"Seriously, Mama, relax...give me a little peace and quiet in here"
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
A Glimpse of Grace
In my former life, not only did I say that I would never pass around ultrasound pictures, I declared that I would never, ever stoop so low as to post those creepy 3-D babies.
This is why they tell you never say never.
Good news, it's a baby alright
This is why they tell you never say never.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
In the Middle of the Night
This weekend, I went home to do some nursery shopping with my mom. It was a fun girls weekend, and we got lots of cute fabric and ideas (I am sure there will be photos when the final product is ready for presentation).
Saturday night, I woke up not feeling right. A little chilled, headachy, the whole nine yards. I sat there trying to decide what to do for an hour or so. On one hand, well...I'm 30. On the other hand, I am 30...and pregnant, and freaked out that if I had a fever it could be passed to my baby, and realizing I did not know where my parents kept the tylenol or thermometer.
That is what led me to stand over my mother at 2:00 am whispering (well, it started as a whisper)... "Mama...Mama...Mama!"
Minutes later, I found myself back in bed. My temperature had been taken (normal), tylenol dispensed (doctor approved), and I was sipping on a fizzy drink (universal comfort drink). While I am sure that my mother thought she was well past the days of the 30 year old waking her in the dead of night saying she felt sick, she didn't bat an eyelash. I, in turn, was comforted enough to go back to sleep (I asked my mom if she was also able to go back to sleep...she said yes...eventually).
I started thinking about how I have always felt that way around my parents...they may not have known what to do in every situation, but their children would never have guessed. I have grown up comforted by the fact that no matter what, I was in capable hands. This year we have been in really tough situations. Even in the ones they couldn't fix, the presence of my parents gave me strength I would not have had otherwise. My biggest hope is that, whether she is 3 or 30, Gracie will be able to come to me in the middle of the night knowing no matter what the situation, her Mama (and Daddy) will help make it better.
Saturday night, I woke up not feeling right. A little chilled, headachy, the whole nine yards. I sat there trying to decide what to do for an hour or so. On one hand, well...I'm 30. On the other hand, I am 30...and pregnant, and freaked out that if I had a fever it could be passed to my baby, and realizing I did not know where my parents kept the tylenol or thermometer.
That is what led me to stand over my mother at 2:00 am whispering (well, it started as a whisper)... "Mama...Mama...Mama!"
Minutes later, I found myself back in bed. My temperature had been taken (normal), tylenol dispensed (doctor approved), and I was sipping on a fizzy drink (universal comfort drink). While I am sure that my mother thought she was well past the days of the 30 year old waking her in the dead of night saying she felt sick, she didn't bat an eyelash. I, in turn, was comforted enough to go back to sleep (I asked my mom if she was also able to go back to sleep...she said yes...eventually).
I started thinking about how I have always felt that way around my parents...they may not have known what to do in every situation, but their children would never have guessed. I have grown up comforted by the fact that no matter what, I was in capable hands. This year we have been in really tough situations. Even in the ones they couldn't fix, the presence of my parents gave me strength I would not have had otherwise. My biggest hope is that, whether she is 3 or 30, Gracie will be able to come to me in the middle of the night knowing no matter what the situation, her Mama (and Daddy) will help make it better.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Friday, September 16, 2011
Pregnancy PSA (not that anybody asked me)
Disclaimer...I have said and done all of the things I am about to say not to do, but I guess one thing you gain going through something like we've been through is perspective.
I've said before how hard it can be to know how to answer when someone asks if you have children, or now that I am showing (big time), if this is my first child. What Parke and I went through is (fortunately) very, very rare...but I know or know of SO many people who either have trouble getting pregnant, have experienced a miscarriage, have used an alternative method to get pregnant etc. etc.. . asking just about anything on the subject of pregnancy can stir up some pretty serious emotion.
We all know better than to ask a woman when she is due. I still shudder in horror and bust out laughing when I think about a friend of mine, who upon running into another woman she thought was expecting, reached out and touched the acquaintance's belly and asked when she was due. The woman responded that the baby was born about a month prior... so there my friend stood, WITH HER HAND ON THE WOMAN"S EMPTY (and apparently fairly swollen) STOMACH!!! What do you even do with that?
But sometimes even asking "So, when are you going to start having kids?" can cause a crying jag. Obsessing over "who does the baby look like?" can be a faux these days in case of in vitro or adoption. What number child is this for you can be a tough question for some after a miscarriage or loss. Or occasionally I will be a in a situation (shopping, eating out) where someone I will never see again asks if this is my first child. Sometimes I don't want to get into it so I will just say yes (always whispering a little apology up above)...but if the person won't let it go ("oh! you have no idea what you are in for!" or "Aren't you lucky to be having a little girl first!") by the time we are finished talking I am exhausted, kicking myself for lying, and near tears.
So bottom line, if you come across someone and have no idea what their current situation on child bearing may be, probably best just not to bring it up at all. If the person is either actively giving birth (or just mentioned that she was expecting), you can stick with the "Oh my gosh, you look fabulous...this child is so lucky to have such a beautiful, smart, fashion-savvy mother"...or something to that effect. Once the child arrives you can rest assured that anything along the lines of "cutest baby you have ever seen" will thrill every mother in the universe.
It shouldn't be this hard, in a perfect world none of this tiptoeing around would be necessary. But from
someone who knows what it feels like to brace yourself for a punch in the gut every time you meet somebody new...well, your kind and lighthearted comments will mean more than you know.
I've said before how hard it can be to know how to answer when someone asks if you have children, or now that I am showing (big time), if this is my first child. What Parke and I went through is (fortunately) very, very rare...but I know or know of SO many people who either have trouble getting pregnant, have experienced a miscarriage, have used an alternative method to get pregnant etc. etc.. . asking just about anything on the subject of pregnancy can stir up some pretty serious emotion.
We all know better than to ask a woman when she is due. I still shudder in horror and bust out laughing when I think about a friend of mine, who upon running into another woman she thought was expecting, reached out and touched the acquaintance's belly and asked when she was due. The woman responded that the baby was born about a month prior... so there my friend stood, WITH HER HAND ON THE WOMAN"S EMPTY (and apparently fairly swollen) STOMACH!!! What do you even do with that?
But sometimes even asking "So, when are you going to start having kids?" can cause a crying jag. Obsessing over "who does the baby look like?" can be a faux these days in case of in vitro or adoption. What number child is this for you can be a tough question for some after a miscarriage or loss. Or occasionally I will be a in a situation (shopping, eating out) where someone I will never see again asks if this is my first child. Sometimes I don't want to get into it so I will just say yes (always whispering a little apology up above)...but if the person won't let it go ("oh! you have no idea what you are in for!" or "Aren't you lucky to be having a little girl first!") by the time we are finished talking I am exhausted, kicking myself for lying, and near tears.
So bottom line, if you come across someone and have no idea what their current situation on child bearing may be, probably best just not to bring it up at all. If the person is either actively giving birth (or just mentioned that she was expecting), you can stick with the "Oh my gosh, you look fabulous...this child is so lucky to have such a beautiful, smart, fashion-savvy mother"...or something to that effect. Once the child arrives you can rest assured that anything along the lines of "cutest baby you have ever seen" will thrill every mother in the universe.
It shouldn't be this hard, in a perfect world none of this tiptoeing around would be necessary. But from
someone who knows what it feels like to brace yourself for a punch in the gut every time you meet somebody new...well, your kind and lighthearted comments will mean more than you know.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Thank you, Doctor
Today, I want to acknowledge how grateful I am for the doctors who have helped me through this pregnancy. Last Friday, I had my 24 week appointment. When the nurse went to measure my belly (technically, my "fundal height", but that word remind me of fungus so I will stick with belly), I was measuring 2 weeks behind. The nurse assured me that was completely normal. While I waited for my doctor to come in, I did some hardcore praying that she would do or say something that could stop the major freak-out currently in progress.
She came in, took one look at my face,asked me what was wrong and (after assuring me again that my measurement was completely normal, and that she was not worried at all) scheduled me to have an ultrasound within the hour. It was Friday afternoon at 4:00 and she knew nothing was wrong, she could have easily said "we'll keep an eye on it" and sent me on my way. She could have left me to worry and stress and cry. Instead, she told me that if there was EVER anything she could do to help my peace of mind, I just needed to ask. Gracie looked beautiful...she is a whopping 1 lb 6ozs and right on track in the 48th percentile. My (and probably especially Parke's) weekend was saved.
And that has been what my medical care has been like with this pregnancy. The doctor I saw for the first 12 weeks with Gracie, before I made the necessary change to my high risk practice, still checks on my ultrasounds and calls to give me extra encouragement after each one. One of the doctor's at my high-risk practice took the time to look me in the eye and say, "we're not going to let anything bad happen to you". I have worked with a genetic counselor who stood outside of the ultrasound room door, late to a meeting, just to make sure that my baby looked okay so that she could reassure me.
I met with my current doctor after I lost Rip and before I got pregnant with Gracie. She told me then that 95% of this pregnancy would be mental. She has taken the time to treat the mental right along with the physical.
I know these days doctors have to be careful about what they say, a potential lawsuit could be around any corner. That's what makes what these doctors have done even more special...they have taken the time to do things, maybe not in their job description, but things that may have made all of the difference to the health of me and my baby. For that, I need to say thank you.
She came in, took one look at my face,asked me what was wrong and (after assuring me again that my measurement was completely normal, and that she was not worried at all) scheduled me to have an ultrasound within the hour. It was Friday afternoon at 4:00 and she knew nothing was wrong, she could have easily said "we'll keep an eye on it" and sent me on my way. She could have left me to worry and stress and cry. Instead, she told me that if there was EVER anything she could do to help my peace of mind, I just needed to ask. Gracie looked beautiful...she is a whopping 1 lb 6ozs and right on track in the 48th percentile. My (and probably especially Parke's) weekend was saved.
And that has been what my medical care has been like with this pregnancy. The doctor I saw for the first 12 weeks with Gracie, before I made the necessary change to my high risk practice, still checks on my ultrasounds and calls to give me extra encouragement after each one. One of the doctor's at my high-risk practice took the time to look me in the eye and say, "we're not going to let anything bad happen to you". I have worked with a genetic counselor who stood outside of the ultrasound room door, late to a meeting, just to make sure that my baby looked okay so that she could reassure me.
I met with my current doctor after I lost Rip and before I got pregnant with Gracie. She told me then that 95% of this pregnancy would be mental. She has taken the time to treat the mental right along with the physical.
I know these days doctors have to be careful about what they say, a potential lawsuit could be around any corner. That's what makes what these doctors have done even more special...they have taken the time to do things, maybe not in their job description, but things that may have made all of the difference to the health of me and my baby. For that, I need to say thank you.
Monday, September 12, 2011
A little peace here, a little joy there
I, along with everyone else, watched a lot of 9/11 coverage this weekend. There are plenty of people much more profound than I to write about anything specifically to do with that day, and I will leave them to it. What struck me while watching all of the horrific and moving videos from that day now, ten years later, is how much more connected I felt.
The day the towers fell, I was alone in my college gym on the treadmill. It was just after the first tower was hit, and I watched in disbelief as another plane hit the second tower. That day, my twenty-year-old friends and I stayed glued to the coverage. We were afraid, we were upset, we were sad. But deep down it was happening to someone else. What we were watching on TV, at least for me, was still unreal. I went on with my life.
There is a period after a devastating loss where it is impossible to believe that anyone else has been through a loss as terrible as yours. In a way it's true, because that loss is yours. Last night, watching the videos of the towers fall, all that I could think about was that everyone that died that day was someone's Rip.
We attended a wedding this weekend, and while singing one of the hymns a verse stuck out to me. . ."Peace on earth and joy in heaven". I don't think it matters who you are or where you are in life, but after you experience profound loss this statement sums it up. I can't think of anything I want more than peace for those on earth, and to know that there is safety and joy for those in heaven. That is far from a new concept, but for me, the emotions behind it are different than they were ten years ago. Peace on earth and joy in heaven.
The day the towers fell, I was alone in my college gym on the treadmill. It was just after the first tower was hit, and I watched in disbelief as another plane hit the second tower. That day, my twenty-year-old friends and I stayed glued to the coverage. We were afraid, we were upset, we were sad. But deep down it was happening to someone else. What we were watching on TV, at least for me, was still unreal. I went on with my life.
There is a period after a devastating loss where it is impossible to believe that anyone else has been through a loss as terrible as yours. In a way it's true, because that loss is yours. Last night, watching the videos of the towers fall, all that I could think about was that everyone that died that day was someone's Rip.
We attended a wedding this weekend, and while singing one of the hymns a verse stuck out to me. . ."Peace on earth and joy in heaven". I don't think it matters who you are or where you are in life, but after you experience profound loss this statement sums it up. I can't think of anything I want more than peace for those on earth, and to know that there is safety and joy for those in heaven. That is far from a new concept, but for me, the emotions behind it are different than they were ten years ago. Peace on earth and joy in heaven.
Friday, September 9, 2011
In the Pink
Yesterday, someone mentioned to me that instead of always looking of the black and white, I should try to enjoy the "gray area" of my pregnancy...meaning I should try to keep it in the present instead of worrying about the past or trying to jump forward to the future. I agree, but as I've mentioned before, the gray area of anything doesn't sound like somewhere I want to be. So, in honor of Gracie, I will try to enjoy the "pink" of this pregnancy.
Before I got pregnant with Gracie, my doctor warned me that I would be a nervous wreck until I was home with my baby (and probably well after!) because we lost Rip after his birth...meaning there wouldn't really be a month or week that I could pass and believe everything was going to be okay.
This weekend, I will be 24 weeks. This is a BIG milestone...it means that, although nobody would ever want this to happen, if I were to go into labor today there is a decent chance that my baby would survive. My first instinct is to think of all of the things that could still go wrong...but the reality is, I am 24 weeks pregnant and everything is looking great. I feel good, Gracie is (well, I am) growing daily, the weather is beautiful, and we have a fun weekend planned. Things are pretty darn good "in the pink"...now I've just got to do my best to stay here.
Before I got pregnant with Gracie, my doctor warned me that I would be a nervous wreck until I was home with my baby (and probably well after!) because we lost Rip after his birth...meaning there wouldn't really be a month or week that I could pass and believe everything was going to be okay.
This weekend, I will be 24 weeks. This is a BIG milestone...it means that, although nobody would ever want this to happen, if I were to go into labor today there is a decent chance that my baby would survive. My first instinct is to think of all of the things that could still go wrong...but the reality is, I am 24 weeks pregnant and everything is looking great. I feel good, Gracie is (well, I am) growing daily, the weather is beautiful, and we have a fun weekend planned. Things are pretty darn good "in the pink"...now I've just got to do my best to stay here.
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