Dreamers bask in the happy

I haven't been my usually happy positive self the past week.  Technically, I guess it's kind of justified.  I mean, Sam and I lost a baby last year the day before Thanksgiving.  We thought we were out of the woods this pregnancy. 

We made some changes this time around.  I have been getting shots every week for the last five weeks to prevent pre-term labor.  I've been seeing not one, but two doctors regularly.  I took all my vitamins.  I ate right.  I did everything I was supposed to.  And I managed to get pre-eclampsia anyway.

The pre-eclampsia has severely impacted the pregnancy.  Our little girl, who was measuring five days bigger than she should have a month ago, has since stopped growing.  The placenta isn't supplying enough nutrients...blame to pre-eclampsia.  Oh, and because of the placental issues, she stopped making amniotic fluid.  And that has made her entire survival something of a crap shoot.  At first, the doctor had no hope. 

Ah, but I did what I do.  I kept researching.  I kept exploring my options.  I had to understand everything.  Sam handles things a bit differently.  And between the two of us and the way we attack approach life together, we have made it through the first week of bed rest, the most hopeless time I've known. 

In fact, today, we're 23 weeks. 

It hasn't been smooth sailing.  After the bad news Thursday, I was back at the doctor on Friday.  I was given a Doppler to use over the holiday weekend.  And then I was back at the doctor on Tuesday, again on Thursday.  Oh, and I spent three hours in the hospital Wednesday evening making sure that the epigastric pain wasn't a sign my condition had taken a turn for the worse. 

So, yesterday...I finally had a good appointment.  Finally.

I know I had my hopes for what would happen.  I had done the research.  I had hoped that after the appointment next Thursday, I'd find out that we could start betamethasone shots to mature the baby's lungs and then deliver in the coming days. 

On the one hand, I want her to stay in as long as it is safe.  On the other, I am so ready for this to be over with.  I hate feeling sick and weak.  And more than anything, I want her being cared for by doctors and nurses, closely mointored.  I want to see her and touch her and know she's safe.  I'll do whatever it takes.  I'll do whatever they ask.

And the doctor confirmed that was the plan.  There will be two doctor appointments on Thursday.  Then one more on Friday to get the second betamethasone shot.  Depending on how things are going, I'll be on bed rest until she's delivered, or I could be hospitalized. 

We have a plan to make sure that they can do a c-section.  In case the pre-eclampsia is affecting my clotting ability, we are preparing for me to receive clotting factor and transfusions. 

Did you hear that?

That, my friends, is hope.  We have high hopes about everyone surviving.  I should be fine.  And most importantly, our baby should be fine.  I have no illusions that the next few months to a year are going to be easy.  On the contrary.  They will be incredibly challenging.  Oh, but we can survive anything together. 

That's what I love about being married to Sam, being in love with Sam, sharing my life with him.  We are a team.  We work through everything together.  We can do this.  Together.

And thank all of you for the love and support during this challenging time.  It has definitely helped me keep my hopes up.  Attitude is everything in these moments.

Dreamers cope with their neurosis

That's where I was at yesterday.

Some days are better than others.  And from the moment I woke on Wednesday, with no doctor appointment to attend, no Doppler to soothe my nerves, and the constant concern that the little one wasn't moving enough, I had trouble dragging myself out of bed.  I knew it was going to be a rough day.

I didn't feel like I was getting enough TLC or understanding from Sam.  It's not the same for him.  He looks at me and thinks that just because I'm okay, she's okay.  And that's not always the case.  I was doing just fine when we discovered that she was virtually out of amniotic fluid.

Sam: What's wrong?

It took me a bit to figure out what was truly bothering me.  I think part of it stems from the overwhelming feelings of hopelessness.  I had just about decided that I could handle this because all I needed to do was last one more week.  I had a plan in place.  And then the doctor I saw Tuesday, not my doctor, explained that because of the amniotic fluid issue, there might not be any lungs to work with.

And here we are getting the crib.  What if we get it and she doesn't live to use it?  What if I have to find a crib a new home and the clothes and odds and ends we have accumulated so far?  What if we never have a baby to fill that room?  Sam said he couldn't go through this again.  He didn't want to risk it...his heart, my life.  And I get it, but it makes me feel all the more desperate for a positive outcome this time.

And I tried to explain all of that to him.  He didn't hear me.  He doesn't want to consider the possibility that Kenna might not make it.  And while I don't either, I like to be prepared.  I like to know what I'm in for so I know what to fight for.

I want them to take heroic and extraordinary measures.  It's not because I want to give birth to some modern medical miracle.  It's because I want to have my little miracle, our daughter.  It's because I don't want to suffer any more loss.  It's because I don't know how much more I can take.

So, I'm not my sunny little self today.  And I'm not sure how the doctor appointment today will go.  And I'm hoping we make it another week.  And I'm hoping I find out there's hope.  All I need is a little something to cling to and carry me through.  Think of us please...

Dreamers find comfort in future dreams

My neighbor, Priscilla, came over with her three girls.  Her youngest is just shy of two months old.  We have dreams of raising our two girls together.  I imagine them in a few years, romping around in the yard together.

I comfort myself with that a lot.

Sure, I could be setting myself up for a big disappointment.  That's what happened last year with our son.  We had all these hopes and dreams, this big imagined future, and only twelve weeks after conception, it was all over.  He simply died in my womb and I was left to have and D&C.  We were left to mourn...on Thanksgiving.

And I don't want to go through that again.

I know none of how life plays out is based on our wants, our deep seeded desires to avoid negative experiences.  I believe that I will never have to face more than I can handle.  At the same time, I constantly discover that it's amazing how much I can handle.

Still, being negative isn't going to make anything better.  I try to stay positive and hope for the best possible outcome.  No matter what, I will be able to look back and know that I did everything possible to bring this little one into the world.  I will have no regrets.

I'm baking this baby with love.  And any child who is this loved and wanted should definitely stick around.  Please, stick around.  We have so much we want to share with you, so much love we want to lavish on you.  All the struggle will be worth it.

Dreamers learn to let it all go

I think this is the hardest part of bed rest.

I have to let Sam do everything.  Sure, on the one hand it sounds great in theory.  You may picture it as me being Cleopatra, waited on hand and foot, being fed grapes by some hot stud.  (Sam is very attractive.)

Ah, but reality isn't exactly like that.  Nope.  See, because that would mean asking to be taken care of.

I'm the nurturer.  I'm the caregiver.  I'm the one who does for him.

When he was in the hospital last January, I was the one picking up the nurses' slack, running to refill his water, getting him food, fluffing his pillow, all that and more.  He didn't have to ask.  I mostly knew what he wanted and I offered before it could feel like an imposition.  That's what I do.

In my experience, guys aren't built that way.

Sure, Sam will get up and offer to get me something while he's up.  He will make and share his ginormous glasses of chocolate milk.  That's pretty special.  And last night, there was a bath.  I waited for the water to cool drastically before I got in.  And I didn't stay in long, but since my hips have been killing me, I thought he was on track, it really might help.

These things we have down.  And he is great at keeping the dishwasher loaded, cleaning some.  It's not the same.  It's all the little detail things I take care of regularly that no one ever thinks about.  I don't want to have to ask him to water all the plants.  I don't want to ask him, but I'm going to have to unless I decide I'm suddenly comfortable going commando, that we need to do a load of laundry.  There are so many little things I see piling up.  And I have to let it all go.

Bed rest is a humbling experience.  It's also a learning experience.  It lets you know if you made the right choice in bed partners.

This time, I did.  He sticks around.  Sure, there are moments that he will visit with a neighbor across the road, or people will come over and they'll hang out and shoot at targets in the back yard.  He runs our errands.  When he had work, he goes.

At the same time, he's here.  He's present.  He's with me.  He understands how this bothers me, laying around on my left side all day.  He doesn't abandon me.  He talks me down when I get worried.

We've realized a few things about our relationship lately.  It's nice having someone who is enough.  We can travel just the two of us and not be bored.  We can be home just the two of us and not need others, but it is nice to have the monotony broken.  We have this teamwork thing down.  And we have a connection that is only more and more evident.

Sam: This is one of the many things I love about you, why we're together.  No one can hold a twig to you.

me: You mean because you can say something completely random and I know exactly what you're talking about?

Sam: Yeah.  Stuff like that.  You know me.  You get me like no one else does.

I do.  And everyone needs that.  So while there are things I'm learning to let go, we're both learning there are things to hang on to...each other.

Dreamers know how to snap out of it

We spent Christmas Eve worrying and with our life on pause.

It's no way to live.  And I think that's why when Christmas day arrived, Sam made an announcement that absolutely exploded us from our funk.

Sam: Enough.  We have spent enough time worrying.  If the baby's doing fine, you'll be on the couch.  If it's not fine, we'll be at the hospital.  No more worrying.  We need to live.

He was right.

So, I laid on my couch.  And I tried to laugh more and smile more and worry less.  It seems to be working.

I still have my moments where I get a little nervous, a little scared, but mostly...I feel better.  It is a bit of a state of mind.  So, mind over matter...I'm going to get better.

Determination.  That's what it is.

I keep waiting to swell, but I'm not.  Fingers crossed.  And the baby is moving like crazy as I write.  And I won't know about my blood pressure or protein until Tuesday, so I'm not going to worry about it.  Every day is a day that increases her chances of survival.  At the moment, I refuse to accept any other possibility.

For now, the funk has ended.  And when it returns...and even then only with good reason...I will have all the love and support I need to get through it.

Dreamers hold tight to hope

It's the night before Christmas.  We were supposed to be at Mawmaw's, but we can't go.  I need to be laying down on my left side all the time.  And the doctor said that if I couldn't just lay on the couch during the gathering, I should stay home.

Sam and I talked about it after I called his father to explain.  I didn't explain very well.  I didn't go into any detail because it all hurts too much.  Ah, but he got the jist of it.  We weren't coming.  He asked Sam if he was coming at least.  And Sam refused.

He won't leave me.

And this is one of the many reasons I love this man.  He knows he has to leave me to go to work.  He knows that he has to leave me to run errands that will keep us in groceries.  But he won't leave me alone on Christmas Eve.

I'm keeping busy, even on bed rest.  It's different from when I was pregnant with Rachel, but of course there were no laptops then.  And I think I pretty much just laid around and watched television.  Sam asked how things were different this time from the other pregnancies.

me: With Rachel, she was always safe.  With Keenan, the minute he was in distress I had an emergency c-section.  This time. it's different.

Sam: You're going to be fine.  I won't let you die.

Somehow I keep forgetting that the doctor is worried about me, too.  I feel fine...for the most part.  I know they keep checking my labs for signs that the pre-eclampsia is taking hold.  The doctor was worried about my blood pressure.  We are now calling my readings perfectly acceptable, since they are higher than normal, but still reasonably good.

She quizzed me on all the signs I need to be watching for.  She knows I know the signs of problems with the eclampsia.  And she quizzed me for signs that there were problems with the baby, too.  And sometimes, I wish I wasn't so smart.  Sometimes ignorance is bliss.

It takes so much more to be calm and happy and hopeful and confident when I know what's going on.  Still, I like to be informed and I wouldn't want it any other way.

But I'm doing my best to stay busy.  I'm doing my best to  stay happy.  I believe in the power of positive thinking.  I'll be thinking tonight of this book that my grandmother had.  I used to read it when I'd spend the night at her apartment.  The title escapes me.  And I'm not sure what happened to it after she and my grandfather passed away.  The entire book takes place on Christmas Eve and it tells the story of a number of people who are all lost and struggling in their own way.  There are Christmas miracles afoot and soon their worlds are all righted.  I just remember one line from it....and on that night, lost things are found again.

So on this night and all nights, I try to remember that anything is possible, miracles do happen, and not to lose hope.  Enjoy your families, feel the love, and never for one moment fail to appreciate the good all around you.  There are blessings everywhere.  Sometimes you just have to look a little harder to see them than others.  

Dreamers believe in miracles

We have to.  If good and unexpected things were impossible, what would there be to dream about.?

So, here's an update.

I spent much of Thursday at the doctors' offices.  Yes, both.

At 8:15am, I had a scheduled appointment with the high risk pregnancy doctor.  And it didn't go well.  There is no amniotic fluid to speak of.  It's too soon to deliver.  And we have to somehow make it a few more weeks before she has a shot at survival.

I did what all mothers do.  I had my cry, then I wiped my tears and put on my game face.  I researched our options.  I scoured the internet for answers.  I am desperate to not lose another baby.

If we do...Sam's giving up.  He doesn't want to try again.  And my heart will be broken.  Otherwise, life will continue as normal.

Then my OB/GYN called.  She wanted me to come in so we could talk.  She had spoken with the other doctor and was worried.

Thus my second visit to the doctor that day.  It was two trips uptown in one day, half an hour each direction, roughly two hours in a car.  And yet these visits have become my entire social life.  Sam said it was good that I had new friends.  I told him I was moving up in the world, since they are all doctors and nurses.  He laughed.

This second visit was serious.  We discussed our options.  Right now...there are none.  I have to make it to 24 weeks so that the baby has a chance.  And we're not sure that's going to happen.  She kept using the word 'stillbirth.'  She offered me a Doppler for use at home over the long weekend.  And she gave me her cell number.  That's never a good sign.

Ah, but I'm ready for my miracle.  I believe in the power of positive thinking.  And somehow, there will be a positive outcome.  Hope and faith.  I cling to them. 

For those of you who keep leaving such warm and loving comments on Facebook, you are very much appreciated.