Misscariages are seen as so taboo, no one ever talks about it, they just bottle it up, cover it up or pretend it never happened. I decided to share my story. Yes, it graphic. Yes, It's upsetting, if you can't handle it, don't read it.
During our second year together, we found out we were pregnant. This was scary. I was very sick at the time, was undergoing a lot or medications, tests and what not, and this just seemed to throw everything off even further. I was in pain constantly and my Dr. constantly asked if I'd considered alternatives, or if I was sure I wanted to try to go through with it. I reassured them all, every single time, even when I was in the nasty, tie-up-back, itchy gowns for the millionth time, or going through the mri machine, that of course, I wanted to let this baby live.
Unfortunatly, just days after we'd picked out a name, (A lovely unisex one, because we were going to wait to find out what the baby was.) I went out to visit my mom, and that night, I woke up bloody. I called Lev bawling, asking what I should do, who to call, where to go. We were hours from any hospital and I felt like my body was draining me. I could barely walk. I felt the baby bump and I knew something had gone terribly wrong. But I talked to the baby like if I just encouraged it a little more, a little louder, (s)he'd make it for me. I woke my mom and she drove me to the hospital. I showed up bleeding more than I knew was ever going to be okay, if not for the baby, for myself. They did an exam, and said that the baby could very well just have lost a twin. That the baby had a heart beat. I felt a gush of releif. They just had two more tests to run before we could leave. This is where things get fuzzy. I remember Lev holding my hand as the dr.s walked in, us both smiling with relief that our baby was going to make it. I heard something, and then nothing. My ears felt like they were bleeding. I felt Lev's grip tighten up on my hand and he pt his other hand over the hand he was holding. I walked out and felt like nothing. I felt nothing. We came out to the lobby and my family looked at us, and Lev nodded no and handed me over to my father. He hugged me and I knew. I knew my little baby was dying. That even though she is alive now, she won't be soon. I was shuffled around the parking lot while my family decided which car to put me in to take me home. They were trying to arrange all the kids so that I wasn't in the car with any of them, when suddenly my stepmom suggested that maybe I'd want to be near a little kid, so that I can 'heal'. This went on for about 20 min. Finally, I was put in the front seat with my stepmom of the little red car. She glanced at me every 30 seconds, and finally said, "we're going to go get you some pads, some chinese and a few movies. Lev went with Dad for a bit and they'll be back soon. Dad's going to stay somewhere else and Lev and you can stay in the girls' room." I just stared out the window. Looking at all the people that were doing things my baby would never do. Looking at the rainbow from the rain the day before, thinking, "Riley will never know what it's like to play in the rain." And so many similar thoughts.
That night, the pains peaked, and Lev presented me with a jar while I was bleeding on the toilet, and informed that the dr wanted him to get me to collect the baby and put it into the jar, and take it into the office, to be studied. I was so disgusted with the thought, I thought I would throw up. Here was my baby, just trying to grow and live inside me, waiting to be loved and wanted like every other baby, and my body was rejecting it. My body was draining all the lining and amniotic fluid until the baby suffocated and died, and then it, too, would be 'passed'. I cried all night, I was in pain, but worse yet, my baby was dying. Women were biologically built to make and birth babies, but not me. I was built to conceive them, and then kill them. I wondered all night, when would it be dead. When would the heart beat stop. Would the heart beat stop before it came out?
Lev got me chinese and rented some movies to try to take my mind off of the whole process. But everytime I saw the characters' dillema's in the movies, I became irate. Who gives a shit if Miley Cyrus' boyfriend is the one who set the church on fire? MY BABY IS DYING. I wanted to die with the baby. I felt like I deserved to. I wanted to. I hoped I'd go to sleep and never wake up again. Lev held me through the night and some time around 5 am, I got up and went to the bathroom, the pains had gotten so bad and I'd soaked a bed, and suddenly the pain let up but I felt like I was going to be sick. I ran to the bathroom, and pulled down my pants.
There she was.
My tiny baby.
Still. Motionless.
I held her and cried for what felt like an eternity. I looked at the jar and wondered, what do I do with her now? I refused to jar her and let people pull her apart for science's sake. I cried for years. For an eternity. I wanted to make her better. I wanted to make her live. I knew I couldn't though, so I wanted even more to just die with her. To just close my eyes and leave, too.
Lev came for me after about 30 min and cleaned me up. He stripped the bed and handed me new clothes, we laid there for an hour or two, just thinking. Week later, we had at least gotten to where we could go into public and I could not have a panic attack. And a year later, I still cry sometimes thinking about it, but I've accepted it. If your going through a misscarriage, just know that it gets better. Not "all" better, but better.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Our Special Pregnancy
Some (or most) people have a doctor that was randomly picked, and maybe a pharmacist throughout their pregnancy, and attend maybe one or two classes, and fill out an album sometime during the third year, and run accross pregnancy photos. Then there's us. We found out at 17 weeks along that we were expecting, and never looked back. We had dreamt over the years what it would be like to have a baby. What kind of parents we'd be. But ultimately, we'd been told that my chances of pregnancy ever were slim, and even if I became pregnant that our chances of the pregnancy coming to term, with a healthy baby, were even slimmer. So while we'd wondered and day dreamed, it usually included an adoptive child, in our 30's or 40's. Little did we know, the November we decided to start planning for a move to a beach after we got schooling and funds out of the way, I was already carrying what would be our tiny daughter.
I, ironically, even had a breakdown where I became depressed for weeks about how I'd never experience pregnancy, never feel tiny kicks and jabs. That I'd never give Lev a tiny baby that looked like him. That I'd never hold his hand, and bear down and push a baby with his eyes, his hair, and his temperament into this world for him. That he'd never hold a soft, fragile, newborn and think, "I made this.". And so much more.
You might wonder, "What's wrong with that baby factory of yours, Amanda?", the answer is that from the very beginning, as young as 12 years old, I went in to see a doctor for intense abdominal pains and cramp-like pains that seemed to practically paralyze me. They took x-rays and examined me, and shortly there after told me that I had an unusual uterus shape and it caused things to run a little funky when i menstruated. This is normally no big deal, but I also had an odd pelvic bone. It was basically a collection of tiny things, that while insignificant to have otherwise, together would make things very hard and weird as far as periods, sex and babies went. They didn't say I couldn't have babies, but everytime I talked about being a mom later on after that, my parents looked at me like someone who didn't know they couldn't fly. I figured maybe I would need help, later on, like invitro or something similar. This all made things a little weird, but I never asked more about it and my parents barely skimmed the topic with as little detail as possible.
Then, in our second year together, we suffered a misscariage, you can read about that here. After that, we were told that since I'd miscarried later on, that it 'traumatized' the uterine walls and cervix. That we would be lucky if we ever were able to get pregnant again. I had decided that we'd just adopt, because I couldn't go through that again. Lev agreed, because millions of kids need homes, and it's "ecologically responsible".
I started feeling really sick, and gaining weight in February. (My period has never been normal or had a sched so that wasn't an indicator of anything.) Lev joked that we could be pregnant, but I figured I just having another health problem. After a week or so, though, Lev told me it was time to get a test. We went and got a test from the store up the street. I was too nervous to take it right then, so I went home. Two days later, I woke up really early, and decided to take it. It was positive. I didn't know how I'd tell Lev and regretted not waiting on him to take it. I was in a haze for a while, and finally about a week later, the day after Valentine's Day, we were watching a movie, and I just blurted out, "We're having a baby.". He just looked at me for a minute and we were quiet for what felt like hours. Finally, right before I left, he hugged me and said, "We'll get through this.".
We didn't know how far a long we were and didn't suspect any further than maybe 8 weeks. We went into Planned Parenthood for a confirmation, and were told my levels were crazy high and I might have multiples or be later than we thought. We then decided to get a little emotional support by getting a mentor at Pregnancy Care Center. (A fantastic place. If you have one near you, and are expecting, I highly reccomend signing up!) When we went in, we found out we would be getting an ultrasound. This was wonderful and terrible all at the same time. We felt like jumping for joy that we might get another chance to be parents of our own baby, but terrified that it'd end like the last pregnancy had. That the ultrasound would show no heartbeat. I laid down on the table, and asked that she begin before all the other people were allowed in. I wanted to be alone when I found out, if this baby was dead. She said okay and knowing my fear, sadly and slowly gelled my belly up and touched the monitor to my abdomen. She smiled immediatly. I was straining to see the tell-tale jelly bean that would be my baby. She set it down and asked if she could go get the rest of the family, and Lev now that we knew it had heart beat. I hadn't heard a thing, or saw anything, but assumed she'd know better. Lev was the first to come in, he walked up and looked me straight in the eyes and motioned towards my belly, I nodded yes. He perked up and asked what it looked like, I said I didn't have a clue, just that it's alive! She started up the machine and I saw an oddly shaped rounded off things, almost bean-shaped, and said, "Is that the baby?", she looked at me and said, "definitly.". My mom said, "Where's the head?", and the ultrasound tech said, "oh just a minute, I've got to find it first.". Me and Lev looked at eachother, how far a long was this baby?? She showed us a perfecty human-looking baby head. And Lev teared up. I asked of course how far I was, by now realizing it's not no 8 weeks! She measured the baby's leg bones and said 17 weeks, leaving us all in shock. We were baffled.
Later on, we were told she was 'too tiny' and after several pre-term labour scares, we realized that this baby was going to be a lot of work. She just wanted to be born early, she didn't want to gain weight, she got sick often. We spent many restless and worrisome nights listening to her little heart beat on the doppler we had bought after our first scare.
So, as mentioned earlier, while some couples do the album years after Baby's born, and 'run across' pregnancy photos, and have a random dr and that's it, we had the whole shabang. We knew this was going to be our only child, and how special this pregnancy is. We've taken pictures every week, we have a mentor, and a doula. We take every class we can, and religiously read pregnancy and birthing books.We chose our doctor for the number of healthy babies delivered, the reviews and how many years she's been in practice. We try to document every moment we get with this special person that is our daughter. We cherish every heart beat, every kick, and every week. We love our Little Foot.
I, ironically, even had a breakdown where I became depressed for weeks about how I'd never experience pregnancy, never feel tiny kicks and jabs. That I'd never give Lev a tiny baby that looked like him. That I'd never hold his hand, and bear down and push a baby with his eyes, his hair, and his temperament into this world for him. That he'd never hold a soft, fragile, newborn and think, "I made this.". And so much more.
You might wonder, "What's wrong with that baby factory of yours, Amanda?", the answer is that from the very beginning, as young as 12 years old, I went in to see a doctor for intense abdominal pains and cramp-like pains that seemed to practically paralyze me. They took x-rays and examined me, and shortly there after told me that I had an unusual uterus shape and it caused things to run a little funky when i menstruated. This is normally no big deal, but I also had an odd pelvic bone. It was basically a collection of tiny things, that while insignificant to have otherwise, together would make things very hard and weird as far as periods, sex and babies went. They didn't say I couldn't have babies, but everytime I talked about being a mom later on after that, my parents looked at me like someone who didn't know they couldn't fly. I figured maybe I would need help, later on, like invitro or something similar. This all made things a little weird, but I never asked more about it and my parents barely skimmed the topic with as little detail as possible.
Then, in our second year together, we suffered a misscariage, you can read about that here. After that, we were told that since I'd miscarried later on, that it 'traumatized' the uterine walls and cervix. That we would be lucky if we ever were able to get pregnant again. I had decided that we'd just adopt, because I couldn't go through that again. Lev agreed, because millions of kids need homes, and it's "ecologically responsible".
I started feeling really sick, and gaining weight in February. (My period has never been normal or had a sched so that wasn't an indicator of anything.) Lev joked that we could be pregnant, but I figured I just having another health problem. After a week or so, though, Lev told me it was time to get a test. We went and got a test from the store up the street. I was too nervous to take it right then, so I went home. Two days later, I woke up really early, and decided to take it. It was positive. I didn't know how I'd tell Lev and regretted not waiting on him to take it. I was in a haze for a while, and finally about a week later, the day after Valentine's Day, we were watching a movie, and I just blurted out, "We're having a baby.". He just looked at me for a minute and we were quiet for what felt like hours. Finally, right before I left, he hugged me and said, "We'll get through this.".
We didn't know how far a long we were and didn't suspect any further than maybe 8 weeks. We went into Planned Parenthood for a confirmation, and were told my levels were crazy high and I might have multiples or be later than we thought. We then decided to get a little emotional support by getting a mentor at Pregnancy Care Center. (A fantastic place. If you have one near you, and are expecting, I highly reccomend signing up!) When we went in, we found out we would be getting an ultrasound. This was wonderful and terrible all at the same time. We felt like jumping for joy that we might get another chance to be parents of our own baby, but terrified that it'd end like the last pregnancy had. That the ultrasound would show no heartbeat. I laid down on the table, and asked that she begin before all the other people were allowed in. I wanted to be alone when I found out, if this baby was dead. She said okay and knowing my fear, sadly and slowly gelled my belly up and touched the monitor to my abdomen. She smiled immediatly. I was straining to see the tell-tale jelly bean that would be my baby. She set it down and asked if she could go get the rest of the family, and Lev now that we knew it had heart beat. I hadn't heard a thing, or saw anything, but assumed she'd know better. Lev was the first to come in, he walked up and looked me straight in the eyes and motioned towards my belly, I nodded yes. He perked up and asked what it looked like, I said I didn't have a clue, just that it's alive! She started up the machine and I saw an oddly shaped rounded off things, almost bean-shaped, and said, "Is that the baby?", she looked at me and said, "definitly.". My mom said, "Where's the head?", and the ultrasound tech said, "oh just a minute, I've got to find it first.". Me and Lev looked at eachother, how far a long was this baby?? She showed us a perfecty human-looking baby head. And Lev teared up. I asked of course how far I was, by now realizing it's not no 8 weeks! She measured the baby's leg bones and said 17 weeks, leaving us all in shock. We were baffled.
Later on, we were told she was 'too tiny' and after several pre-term labour scares, we realized that this baby was going to be a lot of work. She just wanted to be born early, she didn't want to gain weight, she got sick often. We spent many restless and worrisome nights listening to her little heart beat on the doppler we had bought after our first scare.
So, as mentioned earlier, while some couples do the album years after Baby's born, and 'run across' pregnancy photos, and have a random dr and that's it, we had the whole shabang. We knew this was going to be our only child, and how special this pregnancy is. We've taken pictures every week, we have a mentor, and a doula. We take every class we can, and religiously read pregnancy and birthing books.We chose our doctor for the number of healthy babies delivered, the reviews and how many years she's been in practice. We try to document every moment we get with this special person that is our daughter. We cherish every heart beat, every kick, and every week. We love our Little Foot.
Father's Day 2012
This was Lev's first Father's Day, and of course, it was pretty exciting. We celebrated the Saturday before because his sister, Tab, had a birthday on Father's Day Sunday and we wanted to be able to celebrate with her, for her 19th. We didn't have much money, but I really wanted it to be special, and memorable. I had just done a lot of babysitting for a family member to earn some money for his Father's Day gift, but ended up getting paid a lot less than I had expected. It turned out just fine though, because I had just enough.
I had spent all month looking for the perfect gift, but nothing really seemed right. Lev doesn't wear ties, he doesn't like wearing watches, he doesn't grill, he doesn't build model anything, and he definitly doesn't fish, golf, hunt, or play sports. He also doesn't watch sports. You might wonder what on Earth he DOES do, and basically he's a total geek. He does video games, he does hacking, fixing electronics, tinkering with things, buying and trading small handheld electronics, etc. All of which I have nothing to buy for. I didn't have enough to buy him any kind of electronic, and even if I had, there isn't anything he hasn't already had, and discarded as something he'd hacked and had it out with. (With the exception of things that JUST came out, and as you can imagine, that's just wayyyy out of my price range!) I didn't know anything about hacks, or software, so buying anything like that was out of the question, and I he already had all the tools he needed, being an electrician's assistant as a job, and a tinkerer at home, his tools were pretty much a priority, not a gift, per say.
Needless to say, this left me with very few options on what I could get him. Then it hit me, just a few weeks before, I had mentioned how badly I wanted to eat at Red Lobster, and Lev agreed it sounded really good, and started talking about how he'd only eaten there once, when he was eight, and was dying to go again. Then as a second part, I heard him a few days before, talking about how badly he wanted to go see Avenger's, but knew we didn't have the money and settled for being excited about renting once it came out.
My plan was pretty simple from there, to take Lev to Red Lobster for dinner, then to see the Avengers movie. And i would keep it a surprise! This failed the week before Father's Day, for two big reasons. When I got paid a lot less than expected, I looked up how expensive movies were in 3D. (Lev hasn't seen a 3D movie since he was about 8, either!) And of course, when you live with some one, it's a little harder to keep secrets. He found out, needless to say!
We were pretty excited anyways! We left just in time to catch a good wait time and waited a a bit before dinner. We got a really nice waiter, that I think was super nice because I'm so pregnant, and he was talking about his wife just having had their new baby. We ordered crab linguini and Lev got steak! It was all fantastic and we finished just in time to make the movie! We went to go see Avengers, at the expensive, fancy, downtown theatre, in 3D. It was a really good movie, and afterwards we drove home listening to old love songs and staring at each other all goofy-grinned. I love him so much.
On a side note:
Lev's mom got him a very nice button up shirt and new pants, and offered to let me give them to him Sunday, since we were now broke, and I still hadn't given him an actual gift. I declined, feeling embarrassed and guilty. Lev's mom gave them to him Father's Day-day, and Lev loved them. I went to take a shower to get ready to leave for his sisters birthday dinner, and he came in and got in with me, and asked me if something was wrong. I confessed that I felt guilty about not giving him an actual gift, and that his sweet mother had offered what she did. His face didn't change a bit- he was smiling at me, ear to ear. He said, "But you did". I said, "how so", assuming he'd mention the movie. He looked down at my belly for a minute, put his hands on the sides of it, and said, "You made me a father.". He kneeled down and kissed my belly and put his ear to it. If I hadn't already before, that would've been the moment I knew he was going to make the best father for my daughter.
I had spent all month looking for the perfect gift, but nothing really seemed right. Lev doesn't wear ties, he doesn't like wearing watches, he doesn't grill, he doesn't build model anything, and he definitly doesn't fish, golf, hunt, or play sports. He also doesn't watch sports. You might wonder what on Earth he DOES do, and basically he's a total geek. He does video games, he does hacking, fixing electronics, tinkering with things, buying and trading small handheld electronics, etc. All of which I have nothing to buy for. I didn't have enough to buy him any kind of electronic, and even if I had, there isn't anything he hasn't already had, and discarded as something he'd hacked and had it out with. (With the exception of things that JUST came out, and as you can imagine, that's just wayyyy out of my price range!) I didn't know anything about hacks, or software, so buying anything like that was out of the question, and I he already had all the tools he needed, being an electrician's assistant as a job, and a tinkerer at home, his tools were pretty much a priority, not a gift, per say.
Needless to say, this left me with very few options on what I could get him. Then it hit me, just a few weeks before, I had mentioned how badly I wanted to eat at Red Lobster, and Lev agreed it sounded really good, and started talking about how he'd only eaten there once, when he was eight, and was dying to go again. Then as a second part, I heard him a few days before, talking about how badly he wanted to go see Avenger's, but knew we didn't have the money and settled for being excited about renting once it came out.
My plan was pretty simple from there, to take Lev to Red Lobster for dinner, then to see the Avengers movie. And i would keep it a surprise! This failed the week before Father's Day, for two big reasons. When I got paid a lot less than expected, I looked up how expensive movies were in 3D. (Lev hasn't seen a 3D movie since he was about 8, either!) And of course, when you live with some one, it's a little harder to keep secrets. He found out, needless to say!
We were pretty excited anyways! We left just in time to catch a good wait time and waited a a bit before dinner. We got a really nice waiter, that I think was super nice because I'm so pregnant, and he was talking about his wife just having had their new baby. We ordered crab linguini and Lev got steak! It was all fantastic and we finished just in time to make the movie! We went to go see Avengers, at the expensive, fancy, downtown theatre, in 3D. It was a really good movie, and afterwards we drove home listening to old love songs and staring at each other all goofy-grinned. I love him so much.
On a side note:
Lev's mom got him a very nice button up shirt and new pants, and offered to let me give them to him Sunday, since we were now broke, and I still hadn't given him an actual gift. I declined, feeling embarrassed and guilty. Lev's mom gave them to him Father's Day-day, and Lev loved them. I went to take a shower to get ready to leave for his sisters birthday dinner, and he came in and got in with me, and asked me if something was wrong. I confessed that I felt guilty about not giving him an actual gift, and that his sweet mother had offered what she did. His face didn't change a bit- he was smiling at me, ear to ear. He said, "But you did". I said, "how so", assuming he'd mention the movie. He looked down at my belly for a minute, put his hands on the sides of it, and said, "You made me a father.". He kneeled down and kissed my belly and put his ear to it. If I hadn't already before, that would've been the moment I knew he was going to make the best father for my daughter.
Friday, June 15, 2012
Pridefest 2012
This year Lev, Em and I will attend a Pridefest, hosted by GLO, in the downtown area of our hometown! We're all pretty stoked, but It goes from noon to 9 pm, all together. We don't think we'll be able to stay that long, with my current discomforts. There's going to be some performances I'm pretty excited to see, and a poem reading I'm sure I'll bawl through.
I can't wait for our Little One to get here so we can take her to events like this. I really think there is something so special about a child's mind. It's so un-tainted to begin with, so free and loving. In my opinion, it's best kept that way. I look forward to teaching her to accept and love every life style, every difference, and every thing that she possibly can. Teaching a child these things isn't necessary, I've found. Unless told otherwise, I've never met a child that thought badly of gay couples, gay people, or for that matter minorities and other 'debatable' topics. Children laugh inappropriately, of course, because it doesn't take a genius to figure out that two men can't have a baby, which can make a child question certain aspects and what not about the relationship, but I've never found a child that genuinely dissaproved of a same sex couple, that was not coached otherwise. While this could go on forever, and I could get down to the nitty gritty and write a novel about it, I have only ever heard ADULT words come out of a child's mouth when they disapprove of such a thing. And that's my opinion on that. The end.
I can't wait for our Little One to get here so we can take her to events like this. I really think there is something so special about a child's mind. It's so un-tainted to begin with, so free and loving. In my opinion, it's best kept that way. I look forward to teaching her to accept and love every life style, every difference, and every thing that she possibly can. Teaching a child these things isn't necessary, I've found. Unless told otherwise, I've never met a child that thought badly of gay couples, gay people, or for that matter minorities and other 'debatable' topics. Children laugh inappropriately, of course, because it doesn't take a genius to figure out that two men can't have a baby, which can make a child question certain aspects and what not about the relationship, but I've never found a child that genuinely dissaproved of a same sex couple, that was not coached otherwise. While this could go on forever, and I could get down to the nitty gritty and write a novel about it, I have only ever heard ADULT words come out of a child's mouth when they disapprove of such a thing. And that's my opinion on that. The end.
Our Little Foot
This pregnancy has been really hard for me, and I've had a lot of emotional up's and down's and I can honestly say I'm beginning to let go of some of the guilt that comes with these feelings. Anyone can tell you that it's okay to feel a certain way, and you can read all the articles you want, but in the end when you feel a certain way, and that certain way isn't exactly what you think you should be feeling, and it concerns your baby/child, you feel guilty. Or atleast I did.
When Little Foot was 17 weeks along, we found out we were pregnant. It was an unplanned pregnancy that we were far from prepared for. That didn't stop us from being happy and loving Little Foot to death, though! Everything seemed to happen so late for us. So even though everyone else typically knows they're pregnant for about 17-20 weeks before they find out, we got to find out just about 8 weeks after we knew we were pregnant. It still felt like an eternity. This is where things get tough though.
I had always wanted a boy. Always. I grew up in a house of 5 girls, one dad. Even my dog was a female. I had always wanted a son, ever since I was little. So naturally, when we found out we were pregnant, I wanted a boy, still. Not only did I want a boy, I knew it was a boy. I just did. We went shopping long before we knew the gender with whatever extra cash we had every week, and bought tiny socks, little hats, onsies, a bassinet. Mostly gender nuetral things that Lev picked out. I, on the other hand, knowing it was a boy, picked out blue things, things with puppies on it, things with cowboy designs. I even picked out a little blue polka dotted diaper bag. Lev reluctantly stood aside while I did these things, and only said, "A girl would be nice, too...". I reffered to the baby as 'he' and didn't put much time into finding a girl name. His name would be Zander. That was that.
At 20 weeks we were in a car accident and we had to go into the ER for a contraction blocker. We had been rear ended and I started throwing up my breakfast and stomach acids after wards, then the contractions began and it was clear we needed to go to the hospital. We were checked in and they decided to monitor me. They found contractions and said I was dehydrated. I was given contraction blocker, and an IV. More importantly, they wanted an ultrasound to see that Little Foot was all in one piece and that there was a working heart, and no broken bones. Being that we were just far along enough to find out what the gender was, we asked. The tech said she was not allowed to say, due to the fact we were in a 'crisis'. So we were left to decipher it on our own. The Tech found our little one, very still, but very alive. Lev's mother was in the room with us, and all but Lev agreed it was a boy. Lev said he saw girl parts, and it was a girl for sure. But with his mom on my side, I was yet again reassured that Little Foot was a boy.
The weeks following that I was excited for the gender scan at our doctors office, but I knew that it was a boy, so it didn't seem like it would change anything, other than having more pictures of our adorable son. That night I asked Lev a million and a half times how excited he was. Each time his answer was, "Very, very.". That morning we went in and I remember sitting for what seemed like an eternity waiting to be called back into the room. We were running late, because we wanted to thrift shop before, and had tried a new thrift store. We also had forgot the 32oz rule, and had run to Burger King to grab some water to make up for it, and when we had got there, I had barely gulped the last of the 32 oz of water. We looked through the Baby magazine that was next to us, and talked about how we thought the baby would look and how excited we were.
She called us back and the gel was put all over my belly, she started down by my bladder and got grumpy quick. She said, "Your bladder is practically empty. Did you forget?", given that I had to pee right then, I told her I hadn't forgot and that I had to pee, now. And she rolled her eyes. She didn't say much and lev finally asked, "So...what is it?", she looked up and said, "Well obviously it's a girl.". Lev's face lit up like you wouldn't believe and he looked like he'd just won the lottery. He had the cheesiest grin I've ever seen on when I looked over at him.
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I, on the other hand, was having hot flashes and sweating. This tech hadn't been doing this very long, had she? How could she get it wrong? I asked, "Are you sure?", and she grimaced at me and said, "Of course I am.". After which I had a million and a half things to say, like, "can we try again later?", "Is it a bad angle?", "Could we look again?". Eventually, it sank in and I got quiet. I went home and I went to the bed room. We sat in bed and Lev talked about all of the things we'd do with our little daughter and the things we'd buy her and how she'd look, but I sat there and sank further and further away from reality, feeling constantly like I was falling. Lev finally looked at me and said, "You aren't mad are you?". And I said, "of course not.". Because how do you tell someone you are unhappy about something like that?
Later that day I caved. I cried and cried. At first for maybe an hour or two at a time, until I found something to occupy myself with. Then days later I still found my self upset when we went shopping and Lev picked the floral version, or the pink version of whatever the item was. I found myself looking at her tiny socks and shoes and clothes, crying, feeling so upset. So dissapointed. So guilty.
To set things straight, it wasn't that I didn't love her. It wasn't that I didn't want her now that she was a girl, and i certaintly didn't want anything to happen to her. I just felt so many things at once had gone wrong. First of all, my intuition had been wrong. And I was so sure that I had told everyone what I thought. I felt like I had no intuition suddenly, and I was embarrassed that everyone would know I was wrong, including myself. THEN, there's always the simple fact that I had wanted a boy ever since I was little. I had never considered the chance that it could be a girl. AND of course, I felt horrible that I had a tiny helpless, innocent daughter just growing peacefully in my belly, like any other baby, just waiting to be loved and wanted, and held; and here I was upset about something she had no control over, couldn't help, and of course it is one of the large facts of her life. She had no favorite foods, no favorite places, no hobbies. She was a little fetus. There are only a few things you can know factually about about someone who is not born yet, and I was upset about one of them. I felt terrible.
In the end though, while I still really want a boy, I love my daughter with ALL my heart. I love how adorable she's going to look in her little cloth mary janes, and the way her little head bands will look. I love every hiccup and cherish every heartbeat. I love her so much more than I could ever hope to explain. I just want anyone to know that if your going through some similiar feelings, it's okay. You'll come around. Not to say some days I don't cry when I see tonka trucks and little boy's outfits, but the love and adoration I have for my daughter far outshines the want for a son. Don't feel bad. It'll be okay!
When Little Foot was 17 weeks along, we found out we were pregnant. It was an unplanned pregnancy that we were far from prepared for. That didn't stop us from being happy and loving Little Foot to death, though! Everything seemed to happen so late for us. So even though everyone else typically knows they're pregnant for about 17-20 weeks before they find out, we got to find out just about 8 weeks after we knew we were pregnant. It still felt like an eternity. This is where things get tough though.
I had always wanted a boy. Always. I grew up in a house of 5 girls, one dad. Even my dog was a female. I had always wanted a son, ever since I was little. So naturally, when we found out we were pregnant, I wanted a boy, still. Not only did I want a boy, I knew it was a boy. I just did. We went shopping long before we knew the gender with whatever extra cash we had every week, and bought tiny socks, little hats, onsies, a bassinet. Mostly gender nuetral things that Lev picked out. I, on the other hand, knowing it was a boy, picked out blue things, things with puppies on it, things with cowboy designs. I even picked out a little blue polka dotted diaper bag. Lev reluctantly stood aside while I did these things, and only said, "A girl would be nice, too...". I reffered to the baby as 'he' and didn't put much time into finding a girl name. His name would be Zander. That was that.
At 20 weeks we were in a car accident and we had to go into the ER for a contraction blocker. We had been rear ended and I started throwing up my breakfast and stomach acids after wards, then the contractions began and it was clear we needed to go to the hospital. We were checked in and they decided to monitor me. They found contractions and said I was dehydrated. I was given contraction blocker, and an IV. More importantly, they wanted an ultrasound to see that Little Foot was all in one piece and that there was a working heart, and no broken bones. Being that we were just far along enough to find out what the gender was, we asked. The tech said she was not allowed to say, due to the fact we were in a 'crisis'. So we were left to decipher it on our own. The Tech found our little one, very still, but very alive. Lev's mother was in the room with us, and all but Lev agreed it was a boy. Lev said he saw girl parts, and it was a girl for sure. But with his mom on my side, I was yet again reassured that Little Foot was a boy.
The weeks following that I was excited for the gender scan at our doctors office, but I knew that it was a boy, so it didn't seem like it would change anything, other than having more pictures of our adorable son. That night I asked Lev a million and a half times how excited he was. Each time his answer was, "Very, very.". That morning we went in and I remember sitting for what seemed like an eternity waiting to be called back into the room. We were running late, because we wanted to thrift shop before, and had tried a new thrift store. We also had forgot the 32oz rule, and had run to Burger King to grab some water to make up for it, and when we had got there, I had barely gulped the last of the 32 oz of water. We looked through the Baby magazine that was next to us, and talked about how we thought the baby would look and how excited we were.
She called us back and the gel was put all over my belly, she started down by my bladder and got grumpy quick. She said, "Your bladder is practically empty. Did you forget?", given that I had to pee right then, I told her I hadn't forgot and that I had to pee, now. And she rolled her eyes. She didn't say much and lev finally asked, "So...what is it?", she looked up and said, "Well obviously it's a girl.". Lev's face lit up like you wouldn't believe and he looked like he'd just won the lottery. He had the cheesiest grin I've ever seen on when I looked over at him.
I, on the other hand, was having hot flashes and sweating. This tech hadn't been doing this very long, had she? How could she get it wrong? I asked, "Are you sure?", and she grimaced at me and said, "Of course I am.". After which I had a million and a half things to say, like, "can we try again later?", "Is it a bad angle?", "Could we look again?". Eventually, it sank in and I got quiet. I went home and I went to the bed room. We sat in bed and Lev talked about all of the things we'd do with our little daughter and the things we'd buy her and how she'd look, but I sat there and sank further and further away from reality, feeling constantly like I was falling. Lev finally looked at me and said, "You aren't mad are you?". And I said, "of course not.". Because how do you tell someone you are unhappy about something like that?Later that day I caved. I cried and cried. At first for maybe an hour or two at a time, until I found something to occupy myself with. Then days later I still found my self upset when we went shopping and Lev picked the floral version, or the pink version of whatever the item was. I found myself looking at her tiny socks and shoes and clothes, crying, feeling so upset. So dissapointed. So guilty.
To set things straight, it wasn't that I didn't love her. It wasn't that I didn't want her now that she was a girl, and i certaintly didn't want anything to happen to her. I just felt so many things at once had gone wrong. First of all, my intuition had been wrong. And I was so sure that I had told everyone what I thought. I felt like I had no intuition suddenly, and I was embarrassed that everyone would know I was wrong, including myself. THEN, there's always the simple fact that I had wanted a boy ever since I was little. I had never considered the chance that it could be a girl. AND of course, I felt horrible that I had a tiny helpless, innocent daughter just growing peacefully in my belly, like any other baby, just waiting to be loved and wanted, and held; and here I was upset about something she had no control over, couldn't help, and of course it is one of the large facts of her life. She had no favorite foods, no favorite places, no hobbies. She was a little fetus. There are only a few things you can know factually about about someone who is not born yet, and I was upset about one of them. I felt terrible.In the end though, while I still really want a boy, I love my daughter with ALL my heart. I love how adorable she's going to look in her little cloth mary janes, and the way her little head bands will look. I love every hiccup and cherish every heartbeat. I love her so much more than I could ever hope to explain. I just want anyone to know that if your going through some similiar feelings, it's okay. You'll come around. Not to say some days I don't cry when I see tonka trucks and little boy's outfits, but the love and adoration I have for my daughter far outshines the want for a son. Don't feel bad. It'll be okay!
Letters To Little Foot #1
I am aware that we have an agreement that you may use my belly as your cozy abode/play fort and I will share all of my food and energy with you for approximately 40 weeks. You are a fantastic tenant and I couldn't imagine a cuter one- But here's the deal, your lease isn't up until 37 weeks, and yet you are standing by the doors with your bags packed at 31 weeks. I can see you're excited, and this is just fine. In fact, I'm pleased as punch that you are so giddy to see us all. Bladder, your neighbor, however, is not so thrilled. Here's the deal; Bladder has always been there. I mean, ALWAYS. He's isn't just renting, either, he bought his spot. Just like Stomach and Pelvis.
I know that Pelvis and you have had your differences. Pelvis is rigid and hard, and doesn't budge, while all you want is a little extra space and to dance around. Pelvis gets over it though, she doesn't hold grudges or anything. Infact, she might even do you a favor when it's time to check out.
Stomach is squishy and very giving. Unfortunatly, he's also very vengeful and impatient. He doesn't like to be touched or nudged. He's not touchy-feely, and while I know you just want to give everyone hugs and hand shakes, Stomach isn't into all of that jazz. Infact, if you try any of that, he just throws out all of our food. Hateful, right? Well I've got pills and sleeping positions for that and I can always eat around your sleeping schedule.
But Bladder. Bladder is a different story, Little foot. He really is. Bladder just holds all the liquid we didn't really need after all, until I go to the restroom. This is where you come in. Normally, Bladder wouldn't be dealing with this until 36 weeks, so while your giddiness is welcome, you are also agitating bladder quite a bit. Which makes Bladder mad, and then he just doesn't wait until I get to a restroom. And there's just nothing I can do about that, it's all on you.
Something to understand about Bladder, Stomach, and Pelvis is that you're the very first tenant to come along and take up this much space, and crowd everyone out, and then pack up and leave in 40 weeks! They've never done this! And I find you so amazing and special, that you'll probably be the only one. And the good news is, while Stomach, Bladder, and Pelvis have never done this before, and so they're a little impatient with you, you don't ever have to do this again, either! So If you could just calm down a tad until it's time to check out, you'll have all the wiggle room you need afterward, and everyone can do their job!
Love, The Pod
The Induction Dilemma
If you aren't already aware, seeing as this is my first post on this blog, I am about 7 3/4 months pregnant. This means birthing classes, doula meetings with our doula, prenatal yoga, researching a million and a half things, and of course, writing the birth plan. Something I hadn't anticipated, or even given any real concern, was induction. What if I needed to be induced?
I had taken into account the most minute details I could imagine, read about, and decide on. Down to whether or not our baby would get the Vitamin K shot, when her cord would be cut, exactly (and by medical name) what medications I would refuse, who would catch her, whether or not she'd have a pacifier in the first hours of life, what her diapers would be made of (fabric or plastic) and several other teensy tiny details I felt oh-so proud to have noticed, read up on, and decided on. However, I had in no way considered what I'd do, how I'd feel, or how I'd cope with an induction. When my friend, had the last of her three beautiful boys, I immediately pounced on the opportunity to hear her birth story and question her about every thing I could think of. She told me she had been induced, and I was floored. This was news to me. People with healthy, happy, and 'natural' pregnancies got induced?
I read everything I could on induction. When does it happen? Why? To whom? Where? All of the basics, of course. I realized something terrible on my quest for information. I was VERY upset to consider this could happen to me. That my due date could come....and go....and I'd still be saddled with Little Foot in my belly. That out of all those little box tops we saved, from different foods that we like with expiration dates all in August, (up to the 21st) not a one could be her birthday. Most of all, that I would be given drugs. Lots of them. I'd be given a cocktail of painful and intense drugs through a pole in my arm, to begin what I couldn't myself, like other mothers. That my body would no longer be in charge or calling the shots. That my chances for C-Section would go up dramatically. And heart breakingly, I could forgo an epidural (not likely since most induction are a little different as far as intensity and pain than a natural birth), but no matter how much pain I endure, and whether or not they put a needle in my spine, I could no longer say or feel that I'd had a natural birth.
[ For some people, an epidural is exactly what they want. THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH THAT. Birth is a very personal thing. I would like to feel it all and try to be 'empowered' by it and it just means a lot to me. I have however accepted that I do not want to be miserable when my daughter is born, and if I need an epidural to focus on getting her here, or to calm me, then so be it. I want to be happy, focused, and calm when labouring, and meeting her. My goal is to do that through relaxation techniques, massage, meditation and other non-medicinal methods. If I for whatever reason cannot achieve this, then an epidural is the best thing. I am aware that natural child birth is VERY painful, uncomfortable and tough, but that doesn't mean miserable. I still want to be happy, focused and somewhat calm. If I'm bawling and screaming and can't even think about the task at hand, much less work towards it, then there is no empowerment in that. ]
In the end, my doula comforted me with some papers showing that I still had options and different positions we could try, in the event of an induction, and even an epidural. I was grateful she had been there because I honest to goodness thought an induction meant an epidural, (Or c-section!!) and that meant no options. We've decided that if I go to 41 weeks, with no signs of dilation or effacement, we'll accept that we had waited for our Little Foot to decide to come out, and she just hadn't, and we would have to help her along. And that 'helping her along' didn't have to mean epi, and an epi didn't mean laying on my back.
We're all pretty satisfied with our decision and honestly, if you're facing the same problem, just know that nothing is definitive, strive for what you wanted, and if it's not possible, just know that without medical advancements and your decisions, you/your baby might not have made it 'naturally'. You are still a woman, a mother, and a strong person, no matter how you birth.
I had taken into account the most minute details I could imagine, read about, and decide on. Down to whether or not our baby would get the Vitamin K shot, when her cord would be cut, exactly (and by medical name) what medications I would refuse, who would catch her, whether or not she'd have a pacifier in the first hours of life, what her diapers would be made of (fabric or plastic) and several other teensy tiny details I felt oh-so proud to have noticed, read up on, and decided on. However, I had in no way considered what I'd do, how I'd feel, or how I'd cope with an induction. When my friend, had the last of her three beautiful boys, I immediately pounced on the opportunity to hear her birth story and question her about every thing I could think of. She told me she had been induced, and I was floored. This was news to me. People with healthy, happy, and 'natural' pregnancies got induced?
I read everything I could on induction. When does it happen? Why? To whom? Where? All of the basics, of course. I realized something terrible on my quest for information. I was VERY upset to consider this could happen to me. That my due date could come....and go....and I'd still be saddled with Little Foot in my belly. That out of all those little box tops we saved, from different foods that we like with expiration dates all in August, (up to the 21st) not a one could be her birthday. Most of all, that I would be given drugs. Lots of them. I'd be given a cocktail of painful and intense drugs through a pole in my arm, to begin what I couldn't myself, like other mothers. That my body would no longer be in charge or calling the shots. That my chances for C-Section would go up dramatically. And heart breakingly, I could forgo an epidural (not likely since most induction are a little different as far as intensity and pain than a natural birth), but no matter how much pain I endure, and whether or not they put a needle in my spine, I could no longer say or feel that I'd had a natural birth.
[ For some people, an epidural is exactly what they want. THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH THAT. Birth is a very personal thing. I would like to feel it all and try to be 'empowered' by it and it just means a lot to me. I have however accepted that I do not want to be miserable when my daughter is born, and if I need an epidural to focus on getting her here, or to calm me, then so be it. I want to be happy, focused, and calm when labouring, and meeting her. My goal is to do that through relaxation techniques, massage, meditation and other non-medicinal methods. If I for whatever reason cannot achieve this, then an epidural is the best thing. I am aware that natural child birth is VERY painful, uncomfortable and tough, but that doesn't mean miserable. I still want to be happy, focused and somewhat calm. If I'm bawling and screaming and can't even think about the task at hand, much less work towards it, then there is no empowerment in that. ]
In the end, my doula comforted me with some papers showing that I still had options and different positions we could try, in the event of an induction, and even an epidural. I was grateful she had been there because I honest to goodness thought an induction meant an epidural, (Or c-section!!) and that meant no options. We've decided that if I go to 41 weeks, with no signs of dilation or effacement, we'll accept that we had waited for our Little Foot to decide to come out, and she just hadn't, and we would have to help her along. And that 'helping her along' didn't have to mean epi, and an epi didn't mean laying on my back.
We're all pretty satisfied with our decision and honestly, if you're facing the same problem, just know that nothing is definitive, strive for what you wanted, and if it's not possible, just know that without medical advancements and your decisions, you/your baby might not have made it 'naturally'. You are still a woman, a mother, and a strong person, no matter how you birth.
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