Isabel was a much more laid back baby than her big sister. She easily fell into a 3 hour feeding schedule and slept! Once we figured out that she had the same milk allergy issues (now just lactose intolerance) she was a very happy baby, unless her diaper was being changed. We were thoroughly enjoying life with both our little girls.
After the experience of being away from my child for so long when she needed me so much, I didn't know if I could bring myself to risk doing it again anytime soon, especially with TWO that I'd be leaving to someone else's care. My husband and I decided we would wait to try again until both girls were big enough to do more for themselves. We chose to prevent pregnancy even before it was possible for me to get pregnant. We did not want a repeat performance.
When Isabel was 9 months old, I thought Aunt Flo had returned, although for a light and short visit. I was tired and run down from having so much to do and my oldest not sleeping well. I hadn't been feeling normal for quite a while when I realized that these were pregnancy symptoms... so I tested.
Pregnancy # 7: I could hardly believe that I saw a BFP! I tested again the next day, and again got the same result. I was in shock! I waited to call the doctor to get the progesterone supplements since it was already Friday afternoon and the office was closed until Monday. On Sunday, I spotted a little. By Monday morning, I was having a miscarriage. I called the Dr anyway and was told to come in to get some blood tests. The nurse insisted I was never pregnant (chemical pregnancy), but the blood tests showed the truth. I had indeed been pregnant. And later, I was told I wasn't the 5 weeks along I thought was, but was probably a whole month farther along. That strange visit from Aunt Flo was most likely implantation bleeding. Either way, I wasn't pregnant anymore and although I'm ashamed to say it, I was somewhat relieved.
All I could think about that weekend was that I was going to be stuck in bed for my entire pregnancy with two itty bitty girls and that I'd have to stop breastfeeding my baby long before I wanted. These were selfish thoughts and certainly would have given way to excitement and gratefulness to God once we had another baby to hold, but I had barely had a chance to digest the idea of being pregnant again. Condoms were clearly not doing the job, so we added a couple forms of non-hormonal birth control so we didn't have to go through that same roller coaster of emotions I was ashamed of. It would be a miracle if we got pregnant now.
Pregnancy #8: Isabel was nearly 15 months old and we were settling into a nice routine as a family. Then, a little after Thanksgiving, I wasn't feeling well. I knew that feeling well, having experienced it 7 times before. However, I didn't believe it. We were being extra careful to NOT get pregnant. I decided to take the last pregnancy test I had left over from the previous pregnancy just to ease my mind. Seeing a big fat negative (BFN) would do wonders for me and allow me to quiet the nagging worries in the back of my mind. However, the test showed a positive result.
I put the girls in the car and drove to Target. I purchased two more tests (different kinds). I really just couldn't believe the first test. When I got home I took both of those tests. Both came back with a BFP! I couldn't believe it. I told my husband that night when he got home, making him look at the tests to make sure I wasn't reading them incorrectly (I knew I hadn't read them wrong...I'm a pro by now). He did a lot to ease my fears. He reminded me that this was clearly God's will for us because despite all our efforts to prevent it, He allowed us to get pregnant. I called the Dr the next day and started those progesterone supplements that I'm still convinced I never needed.
I went in and got the obligatory blood tests every 2-3 days. My numbers were quadrupling rather than doubling. That could mean one of 3 things: nothing, that I was pregnant with multiples, or that I had a molar pregnancy. We chose to wait until the new year for our first ultrasound (might as well use it toward our insurance deductible of the new year because it would most likely be an expensive pregnancy if it lasted), all the while anticipating complications of some sort. We went to Florida for Christmas to spend a week with my husband's family. I was instructed to do nothing, lift nothing and rest. That, along with the fact that I was feeling VERY sick all the time induced us to share with my husband's family that I was, once again, expecting. We held out nearly the entire week we were there, but I was getting tired of the veiled criticism. The rude comments and dirty looks I received prior to the "announcement" all but disappeared.
This pregnancy was a lot like my very first one. I was violently ill at times. I couldn't brush my teeth without inducing vomiting. It was miserable. In January, we had our first ultrasound, and it put our minds at ease. I was still pregnant and with only one baby. It is possible that I had a multiple pregnancy and one just didn't form properly and was reabsorbed, but I knew that I probably couldn't carry twins so I was relieved and thrilled to just see the one little heartbeat of my little alien baby (yes, I think they look like aliens early on).
My pregnancy induced sickness STOPPED at 10 weeks, just like it did with my first pregnancy. I freaked out and couldn't help but compare it to my first miscarriage experience. I still hadn't experienced any spotting, which had been the one common thread between my two successful pregnancies and strangely, I found myself hoping to see blood as a good sign.
At 11 weeks, I had another ultrasound to see how the baby was doing and to check the length of my cervix. My Dr was trying to convince me to have a cerclage (sewing my cervix to keep it closed) as a precaution. Everything I read said that it did not make any difference in women who efface (thin out) like I did with Isabel. Rather, it is very successful when the woman is dilated or prone to dilation early. He even agreed to the validity of the studies I quoted. We had made up our minds to NOT get the cerclage because the risk of causing a miscarriage was too great for the unlikely benefit. However, our entire argument was thrown out the window when the ultrasound tech showed us that I was already 1 cm dilated and I wasn't even out of the first trimester! My head was reeling.
By the end of that appointment, I had surgery scheduled for the first day I could possibly go under anesthesia (at 13 weeks). I was beyond freaked out about having to have this surgery, but knew that it was quite possibly the only chance I had at making it far enough in pregnancy to deliver a baby that could survive outside the womb. The risks were worth it now. On February 6th, I went to the hospital and had the cerclage.
When I came out of the anesthesia, I spoke to nurses and the Dr. I was informed that I was at least 2.5 cm dilated at the time of the surgery. That is the point where they won't do the surgery anymore because the risks outweigh the benefits. The nurse told me that the Dr would normally send a patient home to strict bed rest and expect a late term miscarriage. Thankfully, my Dr knew that I would do anything to keep the baby, so he sewed me up anyway. I went home to strict bed rest for the first week and doing as little as possible for the next few. We were hoping that scar tissue would form around the stitches and create an even thicker/stronger hold. Until that happened, I wasn't to do anything that could jeopardize the integrity of the stitches. And I had to go in for weekly ultrasounds and AP-17 shots (those dreadfully thick, painful shots!).
I was unable to lift more than 1-2 pounds for the rest of my pregnancy (the pressure of lifting anything heavier could cause my stitches to pop). I couldn't even lift my pots and pans! Cooking became very difficult, as did taking care of two little girls who needed Mama. There was a reason God gave us good climbers... and it wasn't to aggravate me! The girls, especially Madeleine, were able to get things for themselves. Isabel was still unable to climb in and out of her rear-facing car seat so we were essentially stuck at home all the time. But it was all worth it. Cleaning was out of the question! It is sad that the only time I want to clean is when I can't! My house was a disaster, but my previous stint of bed rest eased the pain of living that way considerably.
At my 15 week ultrasound, I noticed little boy parts on the screen. The ultrasound tech isn't supposed to confirm gender that early, but it was undeniable. If I could see it with a quick glance, it had to be true. It didn't hurt that I just KNEW it was a boy. This pregnancy had been so different from the girls' pregnancies (I have a theory that I may share with you at some point, but not now). I had a closet full of baby boy clothes I had already purchased on clearance racks once I decided this one was a keeper. The fact that more than one Dr was convinced that all 5 of my miscarriages were boys and that I couldn't carry a boy did not keep me from thinking it. I know enough about genetics to know that even if I had a very rare genetic condition that affected my ability to carry a boy, I still knew that there was a small chance that I could have a healthy boy. And we had no proof of anything wrong genetically, anyway. We were thrilled! While a little girl would have been wonderful (We had all the clothes for another August girl!), having a boy would be lots of fun! And I was looking forward to seeing my husband teach our son how to be a wonderful, godly man like himself. But now I'm off on a rabbit trail...
It didn't take long for those weekly shots and ultrasounds to become routine. And then the contractions started. I was sure they were just Braxton Hicks contractions (no pain, just the tightening of my uterus), but I had to be put on a monitor at the office anyway because we couldn't afford to take any chances. The monitors picked up the occasional contraction (which of course I could not feel) and I was given an extra progesterone shot and sent home to strict bed rest until my next ultrasound. At my next ultrasound, all looked good (NO CHANGE! I LOVE those words!) so I was allowed to do my "normal," extremely restricted activities at home. Not too much walking, no lifting, etc., etc.. I knew the drill.
By the next ultrasound, I was also taking medication every 6 hours to keep contractions away. There is no way to know if any of the medications were working because I was continuing to have those troublesome contractions. But, had I not been taking all those precautions (limited activity, shots, meds, etc.), it is possible I would have gone into full blown labor very early on, so I took them. I was watched very closely and the Dr never felt comfortable letting me off the strict restrictions he put me on right after the surgery. I was very good and God gave me the grace to have a fairly good attitude about it all this time. I counted down to every milestone...
21 weeks is the point where the youngest baby ever to survive was born. 23 weeks is the general consensus as to point of viability. 24 weeks was supposed to be my LAST ultrasound of my pregnancy! Each of those came and went. I was even reluctantly allowed to go to my sister-in-law's wedding in Atlanta over Memorial Day weekend if I got an extra shot right before I left. I continued to have the occasional ultrasound as contractions picked up, but nothing too alarming. I hit 28 weeks (3rd trimester!!!) and it was all "gravy" after that point according to the Dr. I set my sight at full term at that point. This pregnancy seemed like smooth sailing compared to the one I lived in the hospital!
I knew from the beginning that I would not be able to make it to 40 weeks, but I wanted to get as close as possible. The Dr was aiming for July 17th as a delivery date because that was the absolute latest he was willing to remove my cerclage. That was 36 weeks (my due date was August 14th). Because my cerclage was not preventative (it was considered a rescue cerclage because I was already dilated), his experience told him that when he removed the stitches, I would almost certainly go into labor. The risk in waiting to remove the stitches was that I could go into labor spontaneously and my cervix would be torn off and I'd bleed to death before an ambulance could be called to get me to the hospital. I could die and so could my baby. He didn't want to take that risk. Had I not been dilated at the time of the surgery, he may have been willing to remove my cerclage and send me home with antibiotics (to prevent infection) to go into labor on my own, but with my history, he was not willing to take that risk either.
However, as I got closer to delivery, I continued to talk to him about a later date, for the sake of my baby. I didn't want to have a baby in the NICU because he was born before his lungs were ready for air. The closer I got to the end with absolutely no change (my favorite words at my weekly cervical checks), the more leverage I had to convince my Dr. I talked him into 11 more days (37 weeks, 4 days), which according to another Dr in the practice, was amazing. He never budged! I also tried to convince the Dr to remove my cerclage without inducing labor. However, that request fell on deaf ears for reasons above.
When I went in for my 37 week appointment, I was having a lot more contractions and had increased my dosage for the anti-contraction medication to 5-6 times daily. I was also getting shots more frequently. It was time to schedule the cerclage removal/induction. I was ready, too, despite really wanting to make it to August. I didn't want to risk leaving my husband to care for 4 kids (my 12 year old nephew came to live with us just 18 days before the induction) by himself because I was stubborn and refused to listen to the expert. We scheduled it for Tuesday, July 28th.
My husband's parents came for dinner the night before and stayed the night so my mother-in-law could care for the three older kids while I was at the hospital. We had to be at the hospital at 6 am to get prepped for the cerclage removal. I was told I needed to have an epidural because the cerclage removal is very painful. I didn't argue because I knew they would threaten me with a C-section because of my history. They wanted to be able to control my labor after the cerclage was removed. Besides, I planned on getting my tubes tied after the birth anyway, and they could use that epidural rather than giving me more anesthesia. It took a long time to get everything ready (IV, monitors, etc.) and we had to wait for the anesthetist. But finally, that needle was put in my spine and I got the epidural. My toes tingled after a few minutes, and the Dr came in to remove the cerclage.
At almost 7:30 am, my Dr checked to see if I was numb. I wasn't. My toes tingled, but that was it. He proceeded to remove my cerclage anyway because he thought that tingling toes meant I was numb higher up since I wasn't feeling any pain. Let's just say that a cerclage removal HURTS! When I saw how thick the thread used to keep my cervix closed was (it looked like a thin rope), I understood why it hurt so much. It was cut and pulled out in one piece, leaving a nice rope burn on my cervix (at least it felt like it). The Dr checked my cervix and left me to labor...
The contractions didn't start. After that kind of trauma to the cervix, everyone expected me to be sent into labor immediately. I was already 5 cm dilated and 80-85% effaced (those contractions earlier in my pregnancy obviously did something). With the scar tissue from my cerclage, I couldn't efface much more. After a few minutes, they decided to break my water to induce labor. I still didn't go into labor. This was just unbelievable! Before long, they pumped me with pitocin (the chemical that mimics oxytocin, the hormone that causes your uterus to contract in a natural birth). It was at this point I knew that the epidural was doing NOTHING!
When my husband and I went to our childbirth classes with my first successful pregnancy, the midwife that taught the class was anti-pain medication. She had one exception...if pitocin is used, she said, "beg for an epidural BEFORE it is started." She was right. The nurse started the pitocin very aggressively as per the Dr's orders. We were trying to make this delivery be antibiotic free, but waiting for a long time after the cerclage removal and broken water would mean I'd need some. I think the Dr and nurses thought I was exaggerating when I told them the cerclage removal really hurt, until the nurse preparing the table for delivery noticed I couldn't breathe during the contractions. The tears in my eyes and frightened look on my husband probably got the point across pretty clearly. It didn't matter how much we pumped that little button for more epidural medicine. There was no relief. She turned off the pitocin and called for the nurses (they all left when my labor didn't start after breaking my water) and the Dr. Our son was born minutes later, with just a few pushes.
Charlie was born at 8:45 am. He was a healthy 6 lbs, 12 oz. and 19.5 inches long with brown hair and deep blue eyes. I tore a little thanks to all that scar tissue so I had to get sewn up again. This time, the Dr used a local anesthetic because it was obvious to everyone that the epidural did not take. I was just glad that was all over and that I was able to hold my sweet little baby boy. I got to hold him first this time. My husband held both of the girls before me, but he waited until I got a few snuggles in and fed him in case I was taken in directly to get my tubes tied, which was the plan.
The plan was changed, however. The O.R.s were in use with emergency C-sections. My Dr really wanted me to get it done that day rather than the usual day after so they would have more time to monitor me in the hospital. They moved me to a post partum room and I waited to be scheduled for the surgery. While I waited, I sent emails and posted pictures of my adorable little man on Facebook. I went to the general surgery floor early that afternoon, before my mother-in-law could bring the kids but after I fed Charlie again. Because the epidural did not work during the delivery, they were unable to use it for the tubal ligation. I chose to have a spinal instead. It was safer. Unfortunately, after the surgery was over, I struggled to come out of the anesthesia. I was awake, but I couldn't move anything below my chest for a very long time. I sat in the recovery area (large room with lots of beds and nurses where you go until you come out of the anesthesia satisfactorily) for what seemed like forever. There was a nurse shift change while I was there. Both nurses assigned to me, and the anesthesiologist were men. I kept begging to be moved to my room so I could nurse Charlie (it had been 3 hours already and I wanted to establish breastfeeding early and not supplement at all), but they were not sympathetic. It wasn't until I broke down in tears and promised I'd come back up if I didn't get enough feeling back to wiggle my toes within an hour that they reluctantly agreed. Afterall, it was an outpatient surgery but I was an inpatient. There would be a nurse checking my vitals or the baby's every 20 minutes. I wouldn't be alone at all.
My bed was wheeled back to my room. When I arrived, the kids were there with my mother-in-law. I had missed them meeting and holding Charlie for the first time. I was very disappointed to miss their excited expressions. I wasn't supposed to have been gone for 4 hours, but I was. They were excited to tell me about it though, and I got to see the pictures my husband took (not nearly as many as I would have taken, but at least he got some). I was finally able to wiggle my toes just before my hour was up and that was good news. I got to stay in my room and chat with some unexpected visitors who came to swoon over the cutest baby boy ever born!
I was up walking around a lot, trying to work out all the kinks that come with surgery. My incision was in my belly button and it hurt. The lactation specialist came in without identifying herself and rudely tried to adjust the baby while he was nursing. She really caused a lot of pain to my incision site and I let her have it. She didn't come back. The next time I saw a lactation specialist was when my husband's aunt came in the morning we left the hospital. She came to swoon over Charlie before she made it through her rounds on the floor. And then we were discharged. It was exciting to be able to finally go home and be with my family.
We were able to go to church to show him off that Sunday and saw all but 2 of my husband's siblings in his first week of life. He met all of his cousins on that side too, which was wondeful. The kids had a very exciting week. Once the cousins were back in Florida, things settled down a bit. And we all tried to get some much needed rest, just in time for my nephew to start school. Our lives had changed a lot in just a short time. We are still adjusting to being a family of six, but we are trusting the One true Lord. And we are grateful for all the precious gifts He's placed in our lives. We hope that the Lord will bless us with more children. We will be looking into adoption more seriously in a year or two. And, if He wanted to, He could prove that He is the God of miracles by making me get pregnant again and have another successful pregnancy. I wouldn't mind that too much...unless it meant I'd be stuck in bed or the hospital without my sweet little babies around me. Of course, we don't expect that to happen, but would be grateful anyway.
I view all my children as blessings. When people ask me how many children I have, I want to tell them I have 9. Three by birth, 5 in heaven, and one entrusted to me by my sister. However, people don't get it so I usually just say, "Three plus a nephew who lives with me.". They can't understand because they've never experienced a miscarriage of a baby they dearly loved even before they knew s/he was going to be born. But God knows. And He provides us (my husband and me) with the strength to go on after so much loss. And He is the One in whom we place all our hope for more children in the future. And each time a date on the calendar induces a twinge of sadness (miscarriage dates, due dates of those babies we never got to meet, etc.), we are reminded of His goodness. We will miss our babies in heaven as long as we are on earth. But we look forward to the day when we will get to meet our Savior and be with the babies we have always loved and always will. Until then, we trust God because He is sovereign and good. He never promised us that we would not suffer in this life. We endure only by His grace and thank Him for it continually. And because He has blessed us so greatly we share our story. Our living children will grow up knowing that they have 5 more siblings already with the Lord. And we hope that they will have compassion for people who have experienced loss through miscarriage in a way few do.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
What could be more simple (cont.)...
Now that we knew that I could have a healthy child and a full term pregnancy (what was that Dr thinking telling me that I wouldn't make it 28 weeks? I felt like I was 11 weeks overdue when Madeleine was finally born one week before her due date), my worries subsided. I thought I must have a luteal phase defect because that progesterone worked! We thoroughly enjoyed our high needs girl (Even as an infant, she would take only two 20 minute naps a day... and that is if I held her! She wouldn't sleep during the day at all if she was lying down!) and decided to stop trying to prevent getting pregnant as soon as Aunt Flo (euphemism for my period) made a return visit after a long absence (I really like the long absences!).
Pregnancy #4: I got pregnant the first month...again! We weren't even trying to get pregnant, we were just not trying to prevent it anymore. I, once again, just knew I was pregnant (I tested 4 days before Aunt Flo was supposed to visit) and got a BFP. I called the Dr and got a Rx for Prometrium again. We were very excited! The dread of pregnancy I felt with my 3rd pregnancy was completely gone after having a successful pregnancy. My back was feeling so much better (it helps to not have little feet pushing on the rib cage from the inside) so I was convinced I was going to have a much better pregnancy. I went into the Dr and got all the blood work done. Everything looked good, although my progesterone levels were low. There was no worry, though, because I was already on the progesterone supplements! We were confident that this would be another keeper, but we chose not to tell anyone until we got through the first trimester.
But we didn't make it... at 6.5 weeks, I started spotting. I wasn't all that worried because I never spotted with my miscarriages but I bled clots while pregnant with Madeleine! A few days later, I had a full blown miscarriage and the blood tests confirmed it. That was the day before we headed to South Carolina to watch my husband's little sister get married. It was horrible timing but we went and told nobody. We put smiles on our faces and pretended to be happy because we didn't want to ruin the joyful occasion! It was a beautiful wedding. We were very sad that baby #4 did not live long enough for us to hold, joining his/her siblings in heaven too soon, but our 3rd miscarriage was much easier to handle emotionally than our second. Having a living child really helped. She was evidence I could have children, so we still had hope.
We decided it was time to look into adoption more seriously. We had always planned on adopting at least 2 children (it was in the plan BEFORE we started dating), and it seemed like a good time to get the process rolling. As we pursued the adoption route, we continued to try for another biological child as well.
Pregnancy #5: Because I didn't have to have surgery this time, we were told it was fine to try again after Aunt Flo visited. We once again got pregnant the first month! I knew I could have another successful pregnancy and I was determined to enjoy it this time! Getting pregnant was extremely easy for us. However, STAYING pregnant was not as simple. At 6 weeks, I started spotting again, and this time I knew there was nothing I could do despite taking the progesterone supplements. Miscarriage # 4 occurred on October 9th, 2006. An hour later, I got a phone call telling me that my sister-in-law had just given birth to her 3rd baby. Again, extremely bad timing. Surprisingly, my 4th miscarriage was MUCH easier to deal with emotionally than any of the previous ones. But, we decided it was time to find out the cause to all of these miscarriages.
I scheduled the invasive tests the Dr wanted to perform. I did a lot of research about the tests the Dr scheduled for me. I chose to NOT do the test she wanted to do first. It would require I be put under anesthesia and they would put a radioactive dye in me and then take several x-rays and an ultrasound. It was to see if my uterus or fallopian tubes were deformed. However, it made no sense to me to do that test. I got pregnant very easily. People with those kinds of problems struggle with infertility (at least what I considered infertility--not being able to get pregnant at all). It wasn't worth the risk to me. I opted out against the advice of the Dr. I did have the endometrial biopsy she recommended, however. I could stay awake for that and it would tell us if I had a luteal phase defect, which is what she assumed was my problem and the reason I was on the progesterone for the first trimester of every pregnancy (starting with #3). I had to have the test done the day before Aunt Flo arrived. It was uncomfortable having a core sample removed from my cervix (I don't recommend it! It turns out that you have to have this test several times over a course of a year to get a definitive diagnosis if it comes back positive!), but I was glad that we were going to get the answers we needed. Unfortunately, the results came back NORMAL! How is that possible? I didn't need the progesterone after all and it looked more and more like my only successful pregnancy was a fluke...
My husband was in the process of changing jobs, which would take us out of the state of Virginia, so we put adoption on the back burner so we didn't have to start all over again with the home study and paperwork (different states have different rules). We planned on jumping back into that process as soon as we sold our house and were settled into life back in South Carolina. However, we were delightfully surprised to find out...
Pregnancy #6: We got pregnant again right away. I tested a full 5 days before Aunt Flo's scheduled visit and saw a BFP on January 1st, 2007. I took a second test the next day just to be sure. I called the Dr and went in for a blood test too. I was taking no chances this time and didn't want to start the progesterone again if it wasn't going to last. The biopsy said I didn't need it, but the Dr thought it was prudent to take it as a precaution because my progesterone levels were so low while pregnant with Madeleine. A 5th miscarriage in 6 pregnancies was not something we wanted, so I took it. This pregnancy was going smoothly! I was sick all day (like usual) and I lost 10 pounds when I stopped nursing Madeleine (they made me stop when it looked like this one was a keeper because of my history). They weren't concerned with my weight loss this time, but they were watching me VERY closely. I went in EVERY week.
We moved back to South Carolina on February 2nd and I couldn't get into a Dr (I had gone to a midwife before when we lived here, but they wouldn't touch me with a 10 ft pole with my history!) for 5 more weeks! It was kind of nice to get a break, especially since I had to go so often before. The only problem was that I started spotting the week before we moved (I went to my OB before I left VA a few times) and continued for the next 14 weeks. I wasn't terribly worried about it because I spotted much more heavily and even bled clots with Madeleine, but it would have been nice to be checked out a time or two just to be sure. I was also put on moderate bed rest from the beginning because my ribs were still twisted and because of my history. I was to take NO chances and under no circumstances was I to lift anything more than a few pounds with the exception of my 16 pound 18 month old. That ruled out packing and unpacking, cleaning and anything else super strenuous. It was a little awkward to not be able to do anything, especially when others were around. We told them it was due to my back (it was true, but not the big reason) because we weren't ready to share our big news with the world. We had had too many disappointments and couldn't handle those well-intentioned insensitive remarks just yet.
I finally went to the new Dr at 13 weeks. This practice had a bunch of doctors (and you had to see them all!) along with a dozen CNMs (although I wasn't allowed to see the CNMs). I saw the same Dr the first 3 times I went. In addition to regular appointments (every 2 weeks for me), I had to have a trans vaginal u/s every 4 weeks because they wanted to watch my cervix. I didn't see any reason for this and was quite sick of paying through the nose for those u/s's as well as wasting hours at the office every time (I've never been to a worse practice regarding timeliness...I was usually the first appointment but would still wait 2-3 hours and my Dr was never on call!). The one good thing was getting to see my little girl on that TV screen fairly often. Each time they did an u/s, my cervix was long (4.8 cm-- normal is 4 cm) and I was fine. I only had to do one more at almost 22 weeks and then they would leave me alone for the rest of the pregnancy! I was so excited! I was looking forward to getting to enjoy my pregnancy! And only 4 more weeks of all day sickness ahead!
But that u/s showed that my cervix had shortened by half! I was only 2.3 cm at that point (50% effaced) and that was dangerous. The jerk of a Dr I saw that day recommended an emergency cerclage but I didn't want one due to the enormous risk of causing labor to start, and these Drs weren't qualified do it. I was sent home and put on STRICT bed rest. A nurse was sent to my house weekly to give me a shot of progesterone (AP-17) in my hip and I had to strap on a monitor and call in my results twice a day. The Dr wouldn't check to see if anything had changed or if the bed rest was helping. They didn't want me in the car to see the Dr except for my every other week appointment. And although the monitor was picking up occasional contractions (I felt NONE of them), they seemed unconcerned to say the least.
Four weeks on bed rest with a toddler at home and being unable to care for her was driving me crazy! One day of bed rest was miserable, but 4 weeks was excruciatingly painful and downright depressing (my experience on bed rest will have to come at a later date)! My husband's aunt helped us a lot with child care and housework. People from my church volunteered and made meals and occasionally came to help take care of Madeleine at my house, but being volunteers, they were difficult to recruit and unreliable. I was forced to do more than I should, although I basically did nothing. I didn't lift my daughter (we were thankful for a good climber), and we spent a lot of time in a recliner or on the couch. The shots were extremely painful for an entire week (the progesterone was in caster oil--super thick and burns when it goes in!)...just in time for the next one. I didn't mind the shots though, as long as they were helping! Not doing anything was the real killer.
I begged the Dr to give me an u/s to check my cervix just so I knew that my doing nothing (and neglecting my little girl--although she was finally getting used to all the changes and revolving door of helpers) was actually working. I needed the peace of mind. I didn't want to lose another one and certainly not after I let my guard down! Two weeks later, I finally got that u/s. First, I drank that nasty glucola to test for gestational diabetes, then I got the u/s. The u/s tech got extremely quiet. My cervix was .3 cm (yes, 3 mm!). I was effectively 100% effaced! My husband and I were sent to the Dr's office (I actually liked this one) for consultation. He sent me immediately to the hospital next door for monitoring as a precaution. I wasn't feeling any contractions and the monitor I had been hooked up to for the past 6 weeks barely picked up a dozen in that entire time! They nearly missed taking my blood for that glucose test at the hospital because of all the frantic movement of the on-call Dr and the nurses (I made sure they took it though, because I DID NOT want to drink that thing again!). After a short time, my husband went home to pick up Madeleine. We left her at home with a lady from our church and her 3 kids so she could play. Those long Drs appointments were hard on an active little girl! It was the first time we left her with someone else, and now he had to go get her and bring her to the hospital.
I was given a steroid shot while he was gone to advance the lung development of the baby. This was serious.When my husband returned with our daughter, I was handed a few pages of my medical records (my file is a couple inches thick) and we were told to go straight to the other hospital in town for a consultation with "the best high risk OB in the state of South Carolina." My case was far beyond what that practice could handle. "Take no detours and go in through the emergency room entrance," we were told. The ER had valet parking! They were waiting for me with a wheelchair. I was taken up to L&D and strapped to a number of monitors. The wonderful nurses were in and out checking on me as it was a VERY busy day in L&D. The high risk OB came in and basically told me I was having the baby very soon and they were going to try to hold me off for a few days because every day inside a mother's womb is 3 less days in the NICU. I was admitted to the hospital, given a catheter and not allowed to even sit up to eat let alone get out of bed!
I was in shock, as was my husband. We were convinced that there would be nothing wrong at the appointment in the beginning of May, but I was put on bed rest. We were hoping it was helping to do nothing for 6 weeks and get those terrible weekly shots, but I ended up hospitalized in June! I had never been separated from my little girl for more than an hour or two before that day, and suddenly she wasn't allowed to come see me. In L&D, children weren't allowed to visit, but after a day, my new Dr put orders in so the nurses would let my husband bring her to see me for an hour a day. I was in bad shape emotionally. I think the Dr put in those orders so I wouldn't sink further emotionally into full blown depression. I could handle being stuck in bed, even in the hospital, but I really struggled being separated from Madeleine. And the fear of giving birth any minute to a baby that was barely 28 weeks in gestation didn't help matters.
I was having contractions every 4 minutes on the hospital monitors. I felt NOTHING. The IV put in my arm had several bags hanging from it -- saline in case I was dehydrated, magnesium sulfate to stop the contractions, and several antibiotics in case the preterm labor was caused by an asymptomatic infection. I hadn't eaten or had anything to drink since 8 pm the night before (you have to fast for that glucola test and they wouldn't let me eat or drink anything at the first hospital in case I had to have emergency surgery) so I was STARVING and feeling quite ill from all those medications on an empty stomach. A nurse brought me a sandwich and water at 5:30 pm from the nurses' stash because dinner isn't brought to L&D on a regular schedule (it ended up getting there at 8 pm--cold).
The contractions stopped after several hours on the magnesium sulfate. A Dr with a terrible bed side manner came down from the NICU in the middle of the night to tell me the prognosis of a baby born at 28 weeks gestation. She woke me up to scare me to death. I was groggy and unable to process anything she told me (it didn't help that her accent was so thick that even if I had been fully awake I would have had to concentrate to understand her English--the downside of foreign doctors, I suppose). She was only about 8 hours late in coming. If she had come when they told me she would, my husband would have been there to ask questions too. It was just a horrible experience to say the least.
I barely slept that night. The bed was uncomfortable (those L&D pull apart beds aren't meant to be slept in), my mind wouldn't shut down, and the nurses were in and out taking my vitals and checking the monitors every 20 minutes. The IV kept beeping and no one could get it to stop (until they got a new machine). The Dr came in at 5 am to check on me and put in the orders for me to be able to see my little girl. I got a second steroid shot (they are supposed to be given 48 hours apart, but apparently they didn't think I had 48 hours). I continued to get the antibiotics and saline and a bazillion other medications orally. The vampires came in every 4 hours to draw blood. Thankfully, I got to see my husband and Madeleine for a short time. He had to take the day off (he didn't go in the day before either because of my appointment and what it turned into) but his new boss was very understanding and gave him a lot of flexibility. I hung out in bed all day and had a visitor or two (our pastor and the cleaning lady). It was super quiet because I was no longer an emergency situation. The nurses came in to give me meds and take my vitals and bring me cold food. At least my pastor brought me a chocolate shake! That was the best therapy I got all day (aside from seeing my two favorite people in the whole world for a little bit).
I tried to stay upbeat. It was hard, but I didn't really have anymore tears left in me. I basically cried all night. The Dr came back that afternoon with a second Dr so he could introduce me to the one that was on call that weekend. I was told that I would probably be able to go home the next day or Sunday to be on the safe side, but I would have to literally DO NOTHING except get up to pee. I'd have to have lots of reliable help. I focused on that good news and it got me through the next day. However, the on-call Dr, whom I really liked--great bed side manner--told me that I could be there for weeks. That hit me like a ton of bricks! Of course, he wasn't my admitting Dr, but he did see the results of all my blood work for the day and what the monitors picked up. Maybe something was happening again? I was on an emotional roller coaster ride and I desperately wanted off.
After 4 days on an IV and catheter, they decided to let me get up to pee. You have no idea how liberating it was to be able to walk the 8 feet to the bathroom! I even got to take a shower (I was allowed one 5 minute shower a week while on bed rest at home... I got one a day at the hospital once that catheter was out!) and I was thanking God for small strides. I had hoped to be able to go home the day I got the catheter out, but was not discharged. On Monday, my new Dr (the one we went to see for a consultation and instead admitted me) gave me more hope of getting out soon. I was miserably uncomfortable in L&D and the visiting hours, although relaxed for me, were extremely strict. The egg crate pad they put on the mattress helped a little, but the bed was no place to live and I'd been there for 5 days! As soon as a room opened up on the ante partum floor, I was moved.
The room in L&D was HUGE and I was all alone all day long every day (with the exception of a short visit from my husband and daughter, the cleaning lady and a nurse or two). The room they moved me to was an 8 ft by 8 ft room that felt more like a prison cell. But, I had a window I could see out of (and could see the parking lot if I was up to go to the bathroom--I'd watch for my family to visit) and much friendlier nurses. And meals came on a schedule so they were actually warm when it was time to eat them. Best of all, Madeleine could come see me as much as we were able to get her there! Also, the bed was considerably more comfortable.
It appeared that I was going to be in the hospital a couple of weeks (they really wanted to get me to 30 weeks) so my husband moved in with his parents across town so my mother-in-law could take care of Madeleine while he was at work. His boss had been so good to us, but they needed him at work and we needed him to work because it wasn't going to be cheap to live in the hospital. My mother-in-law brought Madeleine to see me everyday for about an hour. This was about as long as she could handle being in that tiny little room. We continued to try to keep her on her schedule as much as possible, but now her routine included an outing to see Mama every day. She endured being seperated from me much better than I did being seperated from her! My wonderful husband took long lunches so I could see him for about 20 minutes a day. He had to go straight to his parents' home every night from work to eat and put Madeleine to bed so I wasn't able to see him any more than that. He brought Madeleine to see me on the weekends for longer periods of time--once in the morning and again in the afternoon after her nap. But it still wasn't long enough.
Every few days, I'd get that IV stuck back in my arm for more antibiotics (I took oral ones too). My blood work showed a high white cell count, which indicates infection, but none of the antibiotics seemed to work. I had urine and blood cultures. Nothing showed a cause for that elevation. The vampires were greeted every morning at 4 am with, "Which vein are you going to suck dry today?" They would always chuckle a little. Apparently, I was the only one on the floor who was even nice to them. The nurses started coming to my room and sitting down for a few minutes when they had a little down time and tell me about the other patients on the floor. I had been there longer than everyone, and people were coming and going left and right. I could hear temper tantrums of some of the other patients through the walls (in their defense, it was an extremely stressful situation and most were in more precarious situations than myself). 30 weeks came and went. The Dr kept pushing back the date of discharge. I asked if I could go home EVERY day!
After several rounds of several different kinds, the Dr decided to just monitor me closely and take me off the antibiotics since they weren't working and I didn't want to keep pumping the drugs into the baby. I had blood drawn daily and my temperature was taken every 4 hours around the clock. After a couple of days, my white count dropped back into the normal range! My body was reacting to all the antibiotics I was given upon admission (they didn't take blood first so they were unable to compare numbers)...I didn't have an infection. Apparently, greater than 80% of preterm labor is caused by an infection, so without any other obvious causes, he assumed it must be an infection! I didn't have to go back on an IV again after that. And my hands and arms were finally given the chance to heal. IV's are supposed to be changed every 3 days, but my veins were burning up and they had to change mine every 36 hours. I had a lot of holes in me (but only a couple of scars).
As the days passed and I inched toward a "safe" time to deliver, the Drs came in with a much more optimistic outlook. I saw them everyday, sometimes twice as they did rounds, but I never got the answer I wanted to hear when I asked if I could go home. 30 weeks turned into 32, then 33... I felt like I had been in the hospital FOREVER! I knew the food service workers, the cleaning ladies, the nurses (even the substitutes), and their children by name and birthdates. I watched tons of TV (I saw every single episode of Little House on the Prairie including all the movies while in the hospital) and crocheted baby blankets until the carpel tunnel I was experiencing became too much to bear. I was so used to daily cervical checks that I probably could have done them myself if I could reach. I came to accept that I would be living in the hospital until I was able to go home with my baby girl...
On my 5th Anniversary, the lady who had been in the hospital almost as long as me gave birth to quintuplets (yes, FIVE babies) at 27 weeks gestation. The nurses who helped with the delivery (there were dozens, I'm told) came in and brought me pictures of the babies to look at before the mother was even awake yet. She didn't know me, but I felt like I knew her! I had prayed for her and her babies many times and it was wonderful that all five seemed to be strong (all five are doing well and turned 2 in July). My husband came to see me after he put Madeleine to bed, bringing me dinner and watching a movie with me. It was nice to get to spend a little bit of time with him, although it isn't exactly how I would have liked to have spent our anniversary. The next day was Saturday so I was going to get to spend more time with him and Madeleine.
I was 33+ weeks along and I finally stopped asking the Dr to let me go home. I had been strapping the monitors on myself and reading the data for the nurses for weeks and I could tell them which medication and what dosage I was supposed to take and when. 38 days in the hospital seemed like forever, but I was determined to make it for at least 3 more weeks and hit full term! When the Dr came in that morning, he asked me if I would be as good at home as I was in the hospital... and he wrote the discharge orders! I was FREE!!!! Woohoo! I had to stay in bed and do NOTHING, but I could do that at home! I had to call if any little twinge occurred, but I could sleep in a real bed! And be with my little girl and husband! It turns out that the only reason he let me go home was because his post partum patients were all getting infections and he didn't want me to get it and deliver early. He had been discussing with me the benefits of inducing early rather than keep me strapped to the bed and risk complications, but I wanted to make it as long as possible! And now I got to go home!
I spent the next 3 weeks on the couch or in the recliner at home. Bed rest BEFORE hospitalization seemed so horrible, but bed rest AFTER hospitalization was a walk in the park! I just concentrated on August 21st... my get-out-of-bed date! I continued to take my medications to keep me from having contractions, even setting the alarm so I didn't miss a dose. I took the aspirin (to prevent blood clots after being sedintary for so long)and all the other pills I had to take. I didn't have to see the Dr for 1.5 weeks! I know he missed seeing me after 38 straight days. At 36 weeks, they checked me to see if anything was happening "down there." I was .5 cm dilated, and of course nearly 100% effaced. Basically, I was ready to have the baby whenever she decided to come. But I gladly went home to be in bed, just counting down the days until I could be human and go somewhere!
When August 21st came, I was THRILLED! But, the Dr wanted me to stay in bed and on my medication. Now this was just being greedy and CRUEL! Seriously! After all those months in bed (and almost 6 weeks in the hospital), the least they could do was let me get up when I hit full term! We comprimised and I was able to get up and take it easy as long as I continued to take my meds. I could live with that. Besides, I wanted some time to get ready for the baby. I hadn't been able to do that yet. At 38 weeks and 1 day, I went back to the Dr. I was still .5 cm dilated and nearly 100% effaced..."no change." I came to LOVE those words in the hospital and I was glad to get some more time up and doing more outside of the recliner and bed.
However, the Dr looked at me and said, "I think we should induce." Huh? After all these weeks of trying to get to full term and the fact that he wanted to keep me in bed even longer and made me keep taking the medications he wanted to artificially choose my baby's birthday? I wasn't ready yet. But after he explained that because of my birth experience with Madeleine and the "ripeness" of my cervix, he didn't feel we would make it to the hospital if we waited for me to go into labor and that would not be a good thing. I still wasn't feeling contractions and that made the above scenario even more likely. The last thing we wanted was to have a birth assisted only by my 2 year old or on the side of the highway. We agreed to come back in the morning when we could arrange for my mother-in-law to watch Madeleine.
We had to be at the hospital at 5:30 am for induction. We got there a little early, so we stopped at the ante partum floor to see the nurses I had come to know so well. They were excited to see me coming in at 38 weeks and 2 days (full term!) and were glad to see me up and walking around. I got situated in my L&D room, strapping on the monitors myself. My nurses before and after the shift change were familiar as they had both subbed on the ante partum floor a few times while I was there. They put in an IV and started the antibiotics (precaution with my history) and wanted to get at least 2 doses in before my baby was delivered. The Dr thought it would be a quick induction...6-8 hours or so of labor. They checked my cervix before the epidural. I was 5 cm! And I still hadn't felt a contraction. It seems like I would certainly have had that baby at home if I waited to feel something.
I got the epidural at 7:30 (1.5 hours after the antibiotics started). The Dr broke my water to start the induction. He said he'd come back to check on me at lunch time to "get things started" with Pitocin. He was thinking a brunch baby would be optimistic. At 9 am, the pressure was very strong so the nurse decided to check my cervix. I was 10 cm! The Dr was called and Isabel was born at 9:09 am on push number 3--an hour before I could get that second dose of antibiotics. Thankfully, there turned out to be no need for them. Isabel was a very healthy 6 lbs, 13.9 oz (they wouldn't round up) and 17 inches long. She had curly brown hair and dark grey eyes.
The labor and birth was extremely easy after a terribly difficult pregnancy. It was fitting. I didn't tear so there was no need for stitches. I was up and walking around in less than an hour after she was born despite having had the epidural. I was moved to the post partum floor where I was probably the most giddy patient they had ever seen. Madeleine was so happy to meet her baby sister! And it was fun to watch her gently try to hold her and love her. Later that day, my Dr said he wrote discharge orders for me for whenever the baby was discharged (I hadn't even been at the hospital 8 hours!). I couldn't stand to be in the hospital any longer than I had to and the Dr agreed. It took some convincing of the pediatrician on duty, but after we promised to go to the Dr's office the next day so they could check out the baby, she was discharged the next morning. We were home less than 28 hours after Isabel was born. It was a wonderful feeling...
Pregnancy #4: I got pregnant the first month...again! We weren't even trying to get pregnant, we were just not trying to prevent it anymore. I, once again, just knew I was pregnant (I tested 4 days before Aunt Flo was supposed to visit) and got a BFP. I called the Dr and got a Rx for Prometrium again. We were very excited! The dread of pregnancy I felt with my 3rd pregnancy was completely gone after having a successful pregnancy. My back was feeling so much better (it helps to not have little feet pushing on the rib cage from the inside) so I was convinced I was going to have a much better pregnancy. I went into the Dr and got all the blood work done. Everything looked good, although my progesterone levels were low. There was no worry, though, because I was already on the progesterone supplements! We were confident that this would be another keeper, but we chose not to tell anyone until we got through the first trimester.
But we didn't make it... at 6.5 weeks, I started spotting. I wasn't all that worried because I never spotted with my miscarriages but I bled clots while pregnant with Madeleine! A few days later, I had a full blown miscarriage and the blood tests confirmed it. That was the day before we headed to South Carolina to watch my husband's little sister get married. It was horrible timing but we went and told nobody. We put smiles on our faces and pretended to be happy because we didn't want to ruin the joyful occasion! It was a beautiful wedding. We were very sad that baby #4 did not live long enough for us to hold, joining his/her siblings in heaven too soon, but our 3rd miscarriage was much easier to handle emotionally than our second. Having a living child really helped. She was evidence I could have children, so we still had hope.
We decided it was time to look into adoption more seriously. We had always planned on adopting at least 2 children (it was in the plan BEFORE we started dating), and it seemed like a good time to get the process rolling. As we pursued the adoption route, we continued to try for another biological child as well.
Pregnancy #5: Because I didn't have to have surgery this time, we were told it was fine to try again after Aunt Flo visited. We once again got pregnant the first month! I knew I could have another successful pregnancy and I was determined to enjoy it this time! Getting pregnant was extremely easy for us. However, STAYING pregnant was not as simple. At 6 weeks, I started spotting again, and this time I knew there was nothing I could do despite taking the progesterone supplements. Miscarriage # 4 occurred on October 9th, 2006. An hour later, I got a phone call telling me that my sister-in-law had just given birth to her 3rd baby. Again, extremely bad timing. Surprisingly, my 4th miscarriage was MUCH easier to deal with emotionally than any of the previous ones. But, we decided it was time to find out the cause to all of these miscarriages.
I scheduled the invasive tests the Dr wanted to perform. I did a lot of research about the tests the Dr scheduled for me. I chose to NOT do the test she wanted to do first. It would require I be put under anesthesia and they would put a radioactive dye in me and then take several x-rays and an ultrasound. It was to see if my uterus or fallopian tubes were deformed. However, it made no sense to me to do that test. I got pregnant very easily. People with those kinds of problems struggle with infertility (at least what I considered infertility--not being able to get pregnant at all). It wasn't worth the risk to me. I opted out against the advice of the Dr. I did have the endometrial biopsy she recommended, however. I could stay awake for that and it would tell us if I had a luteal phase defect, which is what she assumed was my problem and the reason I was on the progesterone for the first trimester of every pregnancy (starting with #3). I had to have the test done the day before Aunt Flo arrived. It was uncomfortable having a core sample removed from my cervix (I don't recommend it! It turns out that you have to have this test several times over a course of a year to get a definitive diagnosis if it comes back positive!), but I was glad that we were going to get the answers we needed. Unfortunately, the results came back NORMAL! How is that possible? I didn't need the progesterone after all and it looked more and more like my only successful pregnancy was a fluke...
My husband was in the process of changing jobs, which would take us out of the state of Virginia, so we put adoption on the back burner so we didn't have to start all over again with the home study and paperwork (different states have different rules). We planned on jumping back into that process as soon as we sold our house and were settled into life back in South Carolina. However, we were delightfully surprised to find out...
Pregnancy #6: We got pregnant again right away. I tested a full 5 days before Aunt Flo's scheduled visit and saw a BFP on January 1st, 2007. I took a second test the next day just to be sure. I called the Dr and went in for a blood test too. I was taking no chances this time and didn't want to start the progesterone again if it wasn't going to last. The biopsy said I didn't need it, but the Dr thought it was prudent to take it as a precaution because my progesterone levels were so low while pregnant with Madeleine. A 5th miscarriage in 6 pregnancies was not something we wanted, so I took it. This pregnancy was going smoothly! I was sick all day (like usual) and I lost 10 pounds when I stopped nursing Madeleine (they made me stop when it looked like this one was a keeper because of my history). They weren't concerned with my weight loss this time, but they were watching me VERY closely. I went in EVERY week.
We moved back to South Carolina on February 2nd and I couldn't get into a Dr (I had gone to a midwife before when we lived here, but they wouldn't touch me with a 10 ft pole with my history!) for 5 more weeks! It was kind of nice to get a break, especially since I had to go so often before. The only problem was that I started spotting the week before we moved (I went to my OB before I left VA a few times) and continued for the next 14 weeks. I wasn't terribly worried about it because I spotted much more heavily and even bled clots with Madeleine, but it would have been nice to be checked out a time or two just to be sure. I was also put on moderate bed rest from the beginning because my ribs were still twisted and because of my history. I was to take NO chances and under no circumstances was I to lift anything more than a few pounds with the exception of my 16 pound 18 month old. That ruled out packing and unpacking, cleaning and anything else super strenuous. It was a little awkward to not be able to do anything, especially when others were around. We told them it was due to my back (it was true, but not the big reason) because we weren't ready to share our big news with the world. We had had too many disappointments and couldn't handle those well-intentioned insensitive remarks just yet.
I finally went to the new Dr at 13 weeks. This practice had a bunch of doctors (and you had to see them all!) along with a dozen CNMs (although I wasn't allowed to see the CNMs). I saw the same Dr the first 3 times I went. In addition to regular appointments (every 2 weeks for me), I had to have a trans vaginal u/s every 4 weeks because they wanted to watch my cervix. I didn't see any reason for this and was quite sick of paying through the nose for those u/s's as well as wasting hours at the office every time (I've never been to a worse practice regarding timeliness...I was usually the first appointment but would still wait 2-3 hours and my Dr was never on call!). The one good thing was getting to see my little girl on that TV screen fairly often. Each time they did an u/s, my cervix was long (4.8 cm-- normal is 4 cm) and I was fine. I only had to do one more at almost 22 weeks and then they would leave me alone for the rest of the pregnancy! I was so excited! I was looking forward to getting to enjoy my pregnancy! And only 4 more weeks of all day sickness ahead!
But that u/s showed that my cervix had shortened by half! I was only 2.3 cm at that point (50% effaced) and that was dangerous. The jerk of a Dr I saw that day recommended an emergency cerclage but I didn't want one due to the enormous risk of causing labor to start, and these Drs weren't qualified do it. I was sent home and put on STRICT bed rest. A nurse was sent to my house weekly to give me a shot of progesterone (AP-17) in my hip and I had to strap on a monitor and call in my results twice a day. The Dr wouldn't check to see if anything had changed or if the bed rest was helping. They didn't want me in the car to see the Dr except for my every other week appointment. And although the monitor was picking up occasional contractions (I felt NONE of them), they seemed unconcerned to say the least.
Four weeks on bed rest with a toddler at home and being unable to care for her was driving me crazy! One day of bed rest was miserable, but 4 weeks was excruciatingly painful and downright depressing (my experience on bed rest will have to come at a later date)! My husband's aunt helped us a lot with child care and housework. People from my church volunteered and made meals and occasionally came to help take care of Madeleine at my house, but being volunteers, they were difficult to recruit and unreliable. I was forced to do more than I should, although I basically did nothing. I didn't lift my daughter (we were thankful for a good climber), and we spent a lot of time in a recliner or on the couch. The shots were extremely painful for an entire week (the progesterone was in caster oil--super thick and burns when it goes in!)...just in time for the next one. I didn't mind the shots though, as long as they were helping! Not doing anything was the real killer.
I begged the Dr to give me an u/s to check my cervix just so I knew that my doing nothing (and neglecting my little girl--although she was finally getting used to all the changes and revolving door of helpers) was actually working. I needed the peace of mind. I didn't want to lose another one and certainly not after I let my guard down! Two weeks later, I finally got that u/s. First, I drank that nasty glucola to test for gestational diabetes, then I got the u/s. The u/s tech got extremely quiet. My cervix was .3 cm (yes, 3 mm!). I was effectively 100% effaced! My husband and I were sent to the Dr's office (I actually liked this one) for consultation. He sent me immediately to the hospital next door for monitoring as a precaution. I wasn't feeling any contractions and the monitor I had been hooked up to for the past 6 weeks barely picked up a dozen in that entire time! They nearly missed taking my blood for that glucose test at the hospital because of all the frantic movement of the on-call Dr and the nurses (I made sure they took it though, because I DID NOT want to drink that thing again!). After a short time, my husband went home to pick up Madeleine. We left her at home with a lady from our church and her 3 kids so she could play. Those long Drs appointments were hard on an active little girl! It was the first time we left her with someone else, and now he had to go get her and bring her to the hospital.
I was given a steroid shot while he was gone to advance the lung development of the baby. This was serious.When my husband returned with our daughter, I was handed a few pages of my medical records (my file is a couple inches thick) and we were told to go straight to the other hospital in town for a consultation with "the best high risk OB in the state of South Carolina." My case was far beyond what that practice could handle. "Take no detours and go in through the emergency room entrance," we were told. The ER had valet parking! They were waiting for me with a wheelchair. I was taken up to L&D and strapped to a number of monitors. The wonderful nurses were in and out checking on me as it was a VERY busy day in L&D. The high risk OB came in and basically told me I was having the baby very soon and they were going to try to hold me off for a few days because every day inside a mother's womb is 3 less days in the NICU. I was admitted to the hospital, given a catheter and not allowed to even sit up to eat let alone get out of bed!
I was in shock, as was my husband. We were convinced that there would be nothing wrong at the appointment in the beginning of May, but I was put on bed rest. We were hoping it was helping to do nothing for 6 weeks and get those terrible weekly shots, but I ended up hospitalized in June! I had never been separated from my little girl for more than an hour or two before that day, and suddenly she wasn't allowed to come see me. In L&D, children weren't allowed to visit, but after a day, my new Dr put orders in so the nurses would let my husband bring her to see me for an hour a day. I was in bad shape emotionally. I think the Dr put in those orders so I wouldn't sink further emotionally into full blown depression. I could handle being stuck in bed, even in the hospital, but I really struggled being separated from Madeleine. And the fear of giving birth any minute to a baby that was barely 28 weeks in gestation didn't help matters.
I was having contractions every 4 minutes on the hospital monitors. I felt NOTHING. The IV put in my arm had several bags hanging from it -- saline in case I was dehydrated, magnesium sulfate to stop the contractions, and several antibiotics in case the preterm labor was caused by an asymptomatic infection. I hadn't eaten or had anything to drink since 8 pm the night before (you have to fast for that glucola test and they wouldn't let me eat or drink anything at the first hospital in case I had to have emergency surgery) so I was STARVING and feeling quite ill from all those medications on an empty stomach. A nurse brought me a sandwich and water at 5:30 pm from the nurses' stash because dinner isn't brought to L&D on a regular schedule (it ended up getting there at 8 pm--cold).
The contractions stopped after several hours on the magnesium sulfate. A Dr with a terrible bed side manner came down from the NICU in the middle of the night to tell me the prognosis of a baby born at 28 weeks gestation. She woke me up to scare me to death. I was groggy and unable to process anything she told me (it didn't help that her accent was so thick that even if I had been fully awake I would have had to concentrate to understand her English--the downside of foreign doctors, I suppose). She was only about 8 hours late in coming. If she had come when they told me she would, my husband would have been there to ask questions too. It was just a horrible experience to say the least.
I barely slept that night. The bed was uncomfortable (those L&D pull apart beds aren't meant to be slept in), my mind wouldn't shut down, and the nurses were in and out taking my vitals and checking the monitors every 20 minutes. The IV kept beeping and no one could get it to stop (until they got a new machine). The Dr came in at 5 am to check on me and put in the orders for me to be able to see my little girl. I got a second steroid shot (they are supposed to be given 48 hours apart, but apparently they didn't think I had 48 hours). I continued to get the antibiotics and saline and a bazillion other medications orally. The vampires came in every 4 hours to draw blood. Thankfully, I got to see my husband and Madeleine for a short time. He had to take the day off (he didn't go in the day before either because of my appointment and what it turned into) but his new boss was very understanding and gave him a lot of flexibility. I hung out in bed all day and had a visitor or two (our pastor and the cleaning lady). It was super quiet because I was no longer an emergency situation. The nurses came in to give me meds and take my vitals and bring me cold food. At least my pastor brought me a chocolate shake! That was the best therapy I got all day (aside from seeing my two favorite people in the whole world for a little bit).
I tried to stay upbeat. It was hard, but I didn't really have anymore tears left in me. I basically cried all night. The Dr came back that afternoon with a second Dr so he could introduce me to the one that was on call that weekend. I was told that I would probably be able to go home the next day or Sunday to be on the safe side, but I would have to literally DO NOTHING except get up to pee. I'd have to have lots of reliable help. I focused on that good news and it got me through the next day. However, the on-call Dr, whom I really liked--great bed side manner--told me that I could be there for weeks. That hit me like a ton of bricks! Of course, he wasn't my admitting Dr, but he did see the results of all my blood work for the day and what the monitors picked up. Maybe something was happening again? I was on an emotional roller coaster ride and I desperately wanted off.
After 4 days on an IV and catheter, they decided to let me get up to pee. You have no idea how liberating it was to be able to walk the 8 feet to the bathroom! I even got to take a shower (I was allowed one 5 minute shower a week while on bed rest at home... I got one a day at the hospital once that catheter was out!) and I was thanking God for small strides. I had hoped to be able to go home the day I got the catheter out, but was not discharged. On Monday, my new Dr (the one we went to see for a consultation and instead admitted me) gave me more hope of getting out soon. I was miserably uncomfortable in L&D and the visiting hours, although relaxed for me, were extremely strict. The egg crate pad they put on the mattress helped a little, but the bed was no place to live and I'd been there for 5 days! As soon as a room opened up on the ante partum floor, I was moved.
The room in L&D was HUGE and I was all alone all day long every day (with the exception of a short visit from my husband and daughter, the cleaning lady and a nurse or two). The room they moved me to was an 8 ft by 8 ft room that felt more like a prison cell. But, I had a window I could see out of (and could see the parking lot if I was up to go to the bathroom--I'd watch for my family to visit) and much friendlier nurses. And meals came on a schedule so they were actually warm when it was time to eat them. Best of all, Madeleine could come see me as much as we were able to get her there! Also, the bed was considerably more comfortable.
It appeared that I was going to be in the hospital a couple of weeks (they really wanted to get me to 30 weeks) so my husband moved in with his parents across town so my mother-in-law could take care of Madeleine while he was at work. His boss had been so good to us, but they needed him at work and we needed him to work because it wasn't going to be cheap to live in the hospital. My mother-in-law brought Madeleine to see me everyday for about an hour. This was about as long as she could handle being in that tiny little room. We continued to try to keep her on her schedule as much as possible, but now her routine included an outing to see Mama every day. She endured being seperated from me much better than I did being seperated from her! My wonderful husband took long lunches so I could see him for about 20 minutes a day. He had to go straight to his parents' home every night from work to eat and put Madeleine to bed so I wasn't able to see him any more than that. He brought Madeleine to see me on the weekends for longer periods of time--once in the morning and again in the afternoon after her nap. But it still wasn't long enough.
Every few days, I'd get that IV stuck back in my arm for more antibiotics (I took oral ones too). My blood work showed a high white cell count, which indicates infection, but none of the antibiotics seemed to work. I had urine and blood cultures. Nothing showed a cause for that elevation. The vampires were greeted every morning at 4 am with, "Which vein are you going to suck dry today?" They would always chuckle a little. Apparently, I was the only one on the floor who was even nice to them. The nurses started coming to my room and sitting down for a few minutes when they had a little down time and tell me about the other patients on the floor. I had been there longer than everyone, and people were coming and going left and right. I could hear temper tantrums of some of the other patients through the walls (in their defense, it was an extremely stressful situation and most were in more precarious situations than myself). 30 weeks came and went. The Dr kept pushing back the date of discharge. I asked if I could go home EVERY day!
After several rounds of several different kinds, the Dr decided to just monitor me closely and take me off the antibiotics since they weren't working and I didn't want to keep pumping the drugs into the baby. I had blood drawn daily and my temperature was taken every 4 hours around the clock. After a couple of days, my white count dropped back into the normal range! My body was reacting to all the antibiotics I was given upon admission (they didn't take blood first so they were unable to compare numbers)...I didn't have an infection. Apparently, greater than 80% of preterm labor is caused by an infection, so without any other obvious causes, he assumed it must be an infection! I didn't have to go back on an IV again after that. And my hands and arms were finally given the chance to heal. IV's are supposed to be changed every 3 days, but my veins were burning up and they had to change mine every 36 hours. I had a lot of holes in me (but only a couple of scars).
As the days passed and I inched toward a "safe" time to deliver, the Drs came in with a much more optimistic outlook. I saw them everyday, sometimes twice as they did rounds, but I never got the answer I wanted to hear when I asked if I could go home. 30 weeks turned into 32, then 33... I felt like I had been in the hospital FOREVER! I knew the food service workers, the cleaning ladies, the nurses (even the substitutes), and their children by name and birthdates. I watched tons of TV (I saw every single episode of Little House on the Prairie including all the movies while in the hospital) and crocheted baby blankets until the carpel tunnel I was experiencing became too much to bear. I was so used to daily cervical checks that I probably could have done them myself if I could reach. I came to accept that I would be living in the hospital until I was able to go home with my baby girl...
On my 5th Anniversary, the lady who had been in the hospital almost as long as me gave birth to quintuplets (yes, FIVE babies) at 27 weeks gestation. The nurses who helped with the delivery (there were dozens, I'm told) came in and brought me pictures of the babies to look at before the mother was even awake yet. She didn't know me, but I felt like I knew her! I had prayed for her and her babies many times and it was wonderful that all five seemed to be strong (all five are doing well and turned 2 in July). My husband came to see me after he put Madeleine to bed, bringing me dinner and watching a movie with me. It was nice to get to spend a little bit of time with him, although it isn't exactly how I would have liked to have spent our anniversary. The next day was Saturday so I was going to get to spend more time with him and Madeleine.
I was 33+ weeks along and I finally stopped asking the Dr to let me go home. I had been strapping the monitors on myself and reading the data for the nurses for weeks and I could tell them which medication and what dosage I was supposed to take and when. 38 days in the hospital seemed like forever, but I was determined to make it for at least 3 more weeks and hit full term! When the Dr came in that morning, he asked me if I would be as good at home as I was in the hospital... and he wrote the discharge orders! I was FREE!!!! Woohoo! I had to stay in bed and do NOTHING, but I could do that at home! I had to call if any little twinge occurred, but I could sleep in a real bed! And be with my little girl and husband! It turns out that the only reason he let me go home was because his post partum patients were all getting infections and he didn't want me to get it and deliver early. He had been discussing with me the benefits of inducing early rather than keep me strapped to the bed and risk complications, but I wanted to make it as long as possible! And now I got to go home!
I spent the next 3 weeks on the couch or in the recliner at home. Bed rest BEFORE hospitalization seemed so horrible, but bed rest AFTER hospitalization was a walk in the park! I just concentrated on August 21st... my get-out-of-bed date! I continued to take my medications to keep me from having contractions, even setting the alarm so I didn't miss a dose. I took the aspirin (to prevent blood clots after being sedintary for so long)and all the other pills I had to take. I didn't have to see the Dr for 1.5 weeks! I know he missed seeing me after 38 straight days. At 36 weeks, they checked me to see if anything was happening "down there." I was .5 cm dilated, and of course nearly 100% effaced. Basically, I was ready to have the baby whenever she decided to come. But I gladly went home to be in bed, just counting down the days until I could be human and go somewhere!
When August 21st came, I was THRILLED! But, the Dr wanted me to stay in bed and on my medication. Now this was just being greedy and CRUEL! Seriously! After all those months in bed (and almost 6 weeks in the hospital), the least they could do was let me get up when I hit full term! We comprimised and I was able to get up and take it easy as long as I continued to take my meds. I could live with that. Besides, I wanted some time to get ready for the baby. I hadn't been able to do that yet. At 38 weeks and 1 day, I went back to the Dr. I was still .5 cm dilated and nearly 100% effaced..."no change." I came to LOVE those words in the hospital and I was glad to get some more time up and doing more outside of the recliner and bed.
However, the Dr looked at me and said, "I think we should induce." Huh? After all these weeks of trying to get to full term and the fact that he wanted to keep me in bed even longer and made me keep taking the medications he wanted to artificially choose my baby's birthday? I wasn't ready yet. But after he explained that because of my birth experience with Madeleine and the "ripeness" of my cervix, he didn't feel we would make it to the hospital if we waited for me to go into labor and that would not be a good thing. I still wasn't feeling contractions and that made the above scenario even more likely. The last thing we wanted was to have a birth assisted only by my 2 year old or on the side of the highway. We agreed to come back in the morning when we could arrange for my mother-in-law to watch Madeleine.
We had to be at the hospital at 5:30 am for induction. We got there a little early, so we stopped at the ante partum floor to see the nurses I had come to know so well. They were excited to see me coming in at 38 weeks and 2 days (full term!) and were glad to see me up and walking around. I got situated in my L&D room, strapping on the monitors myself. My nurses before and after the shift change were familiar as they had both subbed on the ante partum floor a few times while I was there. They put in an IV and started the antibiotics (precaution with my history) and wanted to get at least 2 doses in before my baby was delivered. The Dr thought it would be a quick induction...6-8 hours or so of labor. They checked my cervix before the epidural. I was 5 cm! And I still hadn't felt a contraction. It seems like I would certainly have had that baby at home if I waited to feel something.
I got the epidural at 7:30 (1.5 hours after the antibiotics started). The Dr broke my water to start the induction. He said he'd come back to check on me at lunch time to "get things started" with Pitocin. He was thinking a brunch baby would be optimistic. At 9 am, the pressure was very strong so the nurse decided to check my cervix. I was 10 cm! The Dr was called and Isabel was born at 9:09 am on push number 3--an hour before I could get that second dose of antibiotics. Thankfully, there turned out to be no need for them. Isabel was a very healthy 6 lbs, 13.9 oz (they wouldn't round up) and 17 inches long. She had curly brown hair and dark grey eyes.
The labor and birth was extremely easy after a terribly difficult pregnancy. It was fitting. I didn't tear so there was no need for stitches. I was up and walking around in less than an hour after she was born despite having had the epidural. I was moved to the post partum floor where I was probably the most giddy patient they had ever seen. Madeleine was so happy to meet her baby sister! And it was fun to watch her gently try to hold her and love her. Later that day, my Dr said he wrote discharge orders for me for whenever the baby was discharged (I hadn't even been at the hospital 8 hours!). I couldn't stand to be in the hospital any longer than I had to and the Dr agreed. It took some convincing of the pediatrician on duty, but after we promised to go to the Dr's office the next day so they could check out the baby, she was discharged the next morning. We were home less than 28 hours after Isabel was born. It was a wonderful feeling...
Monday, November 16, 2009
What could be more simple?
I'm a fairly intelligent person. I have a background in biology (yes, that was my major in college) with more than a basic knowledge of the "birds and bees." But still, I would like to buy into the concept of pregnancy and childbirth being a simple process. After all, women have been getting pregnant and having babies for thousands of years! The truth is, it isn't simple at all and I know as well as anyone (better than most, perhaps) how complicated it really is... below I share my experience(s) with pregnancy and childbirth...it is a LONG story so it may take several entries before it is all said and done...
My husband and I did it all "right." We both remained virgins until our wedding night. We waited to get pregnant until after we'd been married for over a year so we had time to get used to each other before adding the stress of a new baby to our relationship. We prepared for our first baby (I took prenatal vitamins for a few months BEFORE we wanted to try to get pregnant, etc.). So, when I got pregnant so easily (the first month we were trying), everything seemed perfect about this "simple" process of having a baby. We were THRILLED to say the least. However, the process turned out to be much more complicated than we could have ever anticipated in our naivety.
Pregnancy #1: I just had the feeling that I was pregnant (being physically ill and already unable to fit into your size 2 pants BEFORE you miss your period is a pretty big clue--and standard for all my pregnancies, it turns out...except for the size 2 part) so I tested the day I expected my period. It was a Big Fat Positive (BFP). I couldn't wait to tell my husband because I knew he would be excited too. I called one of the few OB/GYNs still practicing in the area we lived (stupid malpractice insurance forced a lot to give up the OB title). I wanted a midwife (it was less "medical" and that is exactly what I wanted for this "simple" process that women had been going through for thousands of years), so I found the only one in the area accepting new patients (we moved from out of state 6 months prior) with our insurance. I miraculously got an appointment almost immediately. Most practices don't see you until you are at least 8 weeks (sometimes 12), but I was only 5.5 weeks at my first appointment! It couldn't have been better...
The Certified Nurse Midwife (CNM) was wonderful. I really liked Sharon and her nurse. She wanted to give me an ultrasound (u/s) to confirm my dates. She couldn't find anything on the screen, but she said that wasn't a concern because it was so early and she wasn't familiar with the machine (this was the first one she had ever done, it turns out). I had to go back 2.5 weeks later for a scan with the ultrasound tech. That one went much better. It turns out that you have to do them trans vaginally rather than on your belly early on...it was a huge relief to see what was our very first child, albeit looking NOTHING like a baby. I was due on October 2nd, 2004 according to my dates but the u/s tech wanted to push it back as much as 2 weeks according to the scan. She wasn't worried, and I tried not to be.
I continued to work at my high stress job (I worked in an inner-city school with special ed kids) while having terrible morning sickness (lets tell the truth...it was ALL DAY sickness). I wasn't gaining any weight (I actually lost weight!) and that was a concern for the midwife. I was told to quit my job or risk miscarriage. A couple of weeks later, I quit. We announced to our families our happy news. Then I had another u/s to make sure the baby was growing because I was losing weight and we couldn't hear the heartbeat on the Doppler (they said that was normal with a tilted uterus, which I had at the time). I was 13 weeks, 2 days pregnant. We looked at the screen, fully anticipating seeing that little heart beat, but we saw nothing. The Dr said, "I don't know what that means. Get dressed and come to my office." Um, lets just say I HATED that man! I KNEW what it meant...it certainly wasn't good news! My husband tried to console me, but it didn't work. He was just as devastated as I was. They scheduled a D&E (dilation and evacuation) the following week because my body was not letting go of my dead little baby and I risked infection. I had the D&E on March 26th, 2004. This is the date I remember as the death of my first baby...
Pregnancy #2: We were told to wait a full 3 months before trying again due to the possible problems associated with the surgery. We bought a house and I worked on that (it needed tons of work!) as therapy and to pass the time. We waited and got pregnant again the very first time we tried! We were again THRILLED. We had been told that the first miscarriage was due to the stress of my job (it was physically as well as mentally stressful--not that it was part of the job description). It was a FLUKE! We were sad about the loss of our first baby, but we were excited about baby #2. I went back for all the appointments. This time, we were due on April 4, 2005. Not a bad day...my best friend from Jr. high and high school was born on April 5th and I wouldn't mind hitting that day! We had our scan at 6 weeks this time. All was well with the world, but we were more cautious in telling people just in case. Having to explain to people over and over again why I wasn't bigger or have a baby in my arms was just too much to bear...
The Dr wanted to do a second scan to ease my mind. I just couldn't shake the bad feeling despite the symptoms of pregnancy and the constant reassurance from the CNM and Dr. I was 10.5 weeks...the baby's heart was no longer beating. Devastation doesn't describe how I felt. One miscarriage can be a fluke, but two in a row? And after getting pregnant so easily both times? I had to have another D&E (on August 26th, 2004) because, once again, my body wanted to remain pregnant with my dead little baby. Following this miscarriage, the Dr wanted to do a few tests to rule out any common and treatable causes of miscarriage. All the blood work came back normal. We chose not to pursue the invasive tests at that time. I couldn't handle it emotionally.
Our lives continued...considerably less bright than before. And, since we chose to tell no one about pregnancy/miscarriage #2, I felt very alone. However, it was a lot better than having to endure all the well-intentioned insensitivity of stupid people that I had to put up with after the first miscarriage. We were trying to prevent pregnancy #3 because I was a wreck emotionally. We got involved in leadership in our small church and went on a missions trip to El Salvador over Thanksgiving, which brings me to...
Pregnancy #3: We were in El Salvador and I just knew I was pregnant again despite all our efforts to prevent it. I was devastated when I returned to the States and took that test. The last thing I wanted to see was a BFP! I don't even remember telling my husband or his reaction...I was in shock and disabled with fear. I cried and cried, but I tried not to do it in front of my sweet husband who did his best to stay upbeat and reassure me. He had the faith that God would give us this baby that I could not understand. He was my rock when I worried about everything (and nothing) and expected the worst...
I wasn't allowed to see the CNM this time because of my history. I was put on Prometrium (progesterone) immediately as a precaution (in case I had a luteal phase defect), and I was watched VERY closely. I wasn't willing to tell anyone! How do you tell people you're pregnant a 3rd time but have no baby? I was in denial for sure. I joined an online support group (well, I read all the posts for a long time before I actually wrote anything) for women who had had multiple miscarriages and were once again pregnant. I liked the anonymity of that and knowing that I wasn't the only one who suffered such terrible loss. The u/s's all looked good. We heard the heartbeat at 10 weeks (first time EVER we hit that milestone!). I gained weight! That was a very good thing! And, I was HUGE very early on. I did everything possible to hide the fact that I was pregnant, and thankfully, no one ever asked, although many later told me they assumed I was gaining weight because I had let myself go (LOL). My father-in-law even came to visit when I easily looked 8 months pregnant and he didn't notice! My love of big sweaters on cool days helped a little, but he is oblivious to those little (or shall I say BIG) details, so I was extremely grateful!
I had several scares. I started spotting at 11 weeks. I started bleeding RED clots a couple of weeks later. Each time. I went in to be checked. Everything looked normal and there was no evidence of a bleed. I continued to bleed through 16 weeks and then it just stopped. I had never experienced spotting before, but it certainly didn't ease my already fearful mind. I was a basket case! At 19 weeks (there were a couple of women in the waiting room that asked how overdue i was--I was HUGE!), we had the anatomy scan (check the heart, other organs, etc.) and we knew then that we had a little girl. A couple of weeks later, we decided to share with our families that I was pregnant again (but we still didn't tell them about pregnancy/miscarriage #2) by sending scrapbook ornaments I made. It included the due date (August 9, 2005), pictures of our little girl via ultrasound, and her name. I was 21 weeks pregnant at that time...more than half-way. And I was STILL sick! Morning (again, ALL DAY) sickness lasted through 26 weeks. Right after I sent those ornaments, I did something STUPID! I picked up our 50 pound boxer/bulldog mix because she got out of our fence and wouldn't come when called. As soon as I did it, I knew I had messed up. My back popped and HURT, and I was leaking a clear fluid...this couldn't be good...
I called the Dr and rested with my feet up. Still, I leaked fluid periodically. I went to the Dr to get checked out. Thankfully, that fluid was pee rather than amniotic fluid! But it was still horrible. I had to go to a chiropractor three times a week for an adjustment and massage therapy at the doctor's order because two of my ribs were twisted and at risk of puncturing my lung! I am skeptical and didn't want anyone manipulating my spine, but the 20 minutes of relief from the excruciating pain I was in was worth each visit! I was put on moderate bed rest (able to be up 4-6 hours a day but still not allowed to do anything "strenuous") and the days went by very slowly. I continued to work at my low stress job (at a scrapbook store) a few hours a week along with weekly Dr appointments and 3 times weekly chiropractor/massage therapy sessions.
I never got comfortable with my pregnancy. I was always waiting for the other shoe to drop after all that had gone wrong. It didn't help that the Dr kept telling me that I wouldn't make it to 28 weeks (no reason was given, but that statement played over and over in my mind my entire pregnancy). Near the end, I had to have non-stress tests (to see how the baby's heartbeat responded to contractions I wasn't feeling). I went an entire day unable to feel her move! She was usually so active that it was a big concern for the Dr's as well as myself. We were sent to labor & delivery (L&D) for monitoring. As soon as we got the monitors strapped on, she decided to kick me and we were sent home a little later with the assurance that all was fine.
I was supposed to have a Dr's appointment at 1pm on that Tuesday, so my husband left for work at 3 am (if he could get a full day in before lunch, he could go with me and not go back to work). At 4 am, I woke up with back pain and decided to take a warm bath to ease the discomfort. This wasn't uncommon...those ribs rubbing up against my lungs HURT! After a few minutes in the tub, I decided I was in labor (back labor SUCKS!) and called my husband to have him come home. I called the Dr and she told me to stay home until my contractions were 2-3 minutes apart for 4-5 hours! I thought, "NO WAY!" and we left for the hospital as soon as my husband got home. I couldn't breathe with the back pain (thanks to those ribs) and the contractions didn't seem to let up.
We were at the hospital and I had been checked by 5:15 am. I was 5 cm dilated and according to the monitors, having 4.5 minute long contractions (2.5 minute peaks) with only 10 seconds from end to finish. Our little girl's heart rate was plummeting with every contraction. The nurse looked at me and said it was time for an epidural. I DID NOT want an epidural! I wanted a natural birth! When I refused, I was told it was either an epidural to see if it could slow down my contractions or I was going to have an emergency C-section. An epidural sounded pretty good then. By 6 am, the anesthesiologist came in (called off a surgery) and he, along with 3 nurses and my husband, gave me that epidural. Because it was being given DURING contractions, the nurses (and my poor husband) had to force my head and shoulders to my knees. This is no easy task and HURTS, especially with the back labor, twisted ribs, and not being able to breathe! But, once the medication took effect (immediately), I was ready to make the anesthesiologist my new best friend! It was the first time in months that I didn't have any pain! And, it worked like a charm in slowing my labor. I had normal contractions 2 minutes apart (on the monitor--I could feel NOTHING) and was fully dilated and effaced by 8 am (that is the first time they checked me after the epidural). The Dr finally came in and broke my water. There was meconium in the amniotic fluid due to the distress she was in during my marathon contractions before the epidural, but she decided to let me "labor down" a little more so she could run over to her office (across the street) and then quickly come back. At noon, the Dr still hadn't returned and I told the nurse I didn't want to wait for the Dr anymore. I still couldn't feel anything (it was a REALLY STRONG epidural) but I should have been pushing at 8 am! At 12:30 pm, the CNM came in.
There were 2 nurses along with the CNM in the room. They were chatting with each other rather than telling me when to push (when you can't feel the contractions, you need to rely on the machine that you can't see!). Needless to say, I pushed for 1 hour 15 minutes. I could feel my cervix tear (quite badly, actually--she stitched me up for 25 minutes) as they kept saying the baby was spinning in the birth canal. Hearing, "I've never seen this before," for the third time (1st with the 4.5 minute contractions & 2nd during the epidural) was a little disheartening. Immediately after my little girl was born, the placenta was birthed as well, with calcifications. They suctioned out her mouth and nose and took her away to make sure no meconium made its way into her lungs. I had to wait to see her and hold her. It seemed like an eternity! But I was being sewn up while I waited so when they brought her back to me, I could concentrate fully on her!
Madeleine was beautiful. She had curly red hair and dark, slate blue eyes. She was born at 1:47 pm on August 2nd, 2005, weighing in at 6 lbs, 8 oz and was 18.3 in long. Seeing her and holding her was the first time I actually felt good about my third pregnancy. It was OVER and my life with my first living child (although she will forever be my 3rd baby) had begun. We were so grateful that God gave her to us.
My husband and I did it all "right." We both remained virgins until our wedding night. We waited to get pregnant until after we'd been married for over a year so we had time to get used to each other before adding the stress of a new baby to our relationship. We prepared for our first baby (I took prenatal vitamins for a few months BEFORE we wanted to try to get pregnant, etc.). So, when I got pregnant so easily (the first month we were trying), everything seemed perfect about this "simple" process of having a baby. We were THRILLED to say the least. However, the process turned out to be much more complicated than we could have ever anticipated in our naivety.
Pregnancy #1: I just had the feeling that I was pregnant (being physically ill and already unable to fit into your size 2 pants BEFORE you miss your period is a pretty big clue--and standard for all my pregnancies, it turns out...except for the size 2 part) so I tested the day I expected my period. It was a Big Fat Positive (BFP). I couldn't wait to tell my husband because I knew he would be excited too. I called one of the few OB/GYNs still practicing in the area we lived (stupid malpractice insurance forced a lot to give up the OB title). I wanted a midwife (it was less "medical" and that is exactly what I wanted for this "simple" process that women had been going through for thousands of years), so I found the only one in the area accepting new patients (we moved from out of state 6 months prior) with our insurance. I miraculously got an appointment almost immediately. Most practices don't see you until you are at least 8 weeks (sometimes 12), but I was only 5.5 weeks at my first appointment! It couldn't have been better...
The Certified Nurse Midwife (CNM) was wonderful. I really liked Sharon and her nurse. She wanted to give me an ultrasound (u/s) to confirm my dates. She couldn't find anything on the screen, but she said that wasn't a concern because it was so early and she wasn't familiar with the machine (this was the first one she had ever done, it turns out). I had to go back 2.5 weeks later for a scan with the ultrasound tech. That one went much better. It turns out that you have to do them trans vaginally rather than on your belly early on...it was a huge relief to see what was our very first child, albeit looking NOTHING like a baby. I was due on October 2nd, 2004 according to my dates but the u/s tech wanted to push it back as much as 2 weeks according to the scan. She wasn't worried, and I tried not to be.
I continued to work at my high stress job (I worked in an inner-city school with special ed kids) while having terrible morning sickness (lets tell the truth...it was ALL DAY sickness). I wasn't gaining any weight (I actually lost weight!) and that was a concern for the midwife. I was told to quit my job or risk miscarriage. A couple of weeks later, I quit. We announced to our families our happy news. Then I had another u/s to make sure the baby was growing because I was losing weight and we couldn't hear the heartbeat on the Doppler (they said that was normal with a tilted uterus, which I had at the time). I was 13 weeks, 2 days pregnant. We looked at the screen, fully anticipating seeing that little heart beat, but we saw nothing. The Dr said, "I don't know what that means. Get dressed and come to my office." Um, lets just say I HATED that man! I KNEW what it meant...it certainly wasn't good news! My husband tried to console me, but it didn't work. He was just as devastated as I was. They scheduled a D&E (dilation and evacuation) the following week because my body was not letting go of my dead little baby and I risked infection. I had the D&E on March 26th, 2004. This is the date I remember as the death of my first baby...
Pregnancy #2: We were told to wait a full 3 months before trying again due to the possible problems associated with the surgery. We bought a house and I worked on that (it needed tons of work!) as therapy and to pass the time. We waited and got pregnant again the very first time we tried! We were again THRILLED. We had been told that the first miscarriage was due to the stress of my job (it was physically as well as mentally stressful--not that it was part of the job description). It was a FLUKE! We were sad about the loss of our first baby, but we were excited about baby #2. I went back for all the appointments. This time, we were due on April 4, 2005. Not a bad day...my best friend from Jr. high and high school was born on April 5th and I wouldn't mind hitting that day! We had our scan at 6 weeks this time. All was well with the world, but we were more cautious in telling people just in case. Having to explain to people over and over again why I wasn't bigger or have a baby in my arms was just too much to bear...
The Dr wanted to do a second scan to ease my mind. I just couldn't shake the bad feeling despite the symptoms of pregnancy and the constant reassurance from the CNM and Dr. I was 10.5 weeks...the baby's heart was no longer beating. Devastation doesn't describe how I felt. One miscarriage can be a fluke, but two in a row? And after getting pregnant so easily both times? I had to have another D&E (on August 26th, 2004) because, once again, my body wanted to remain pregnant with my dead little baby. Following this miscarriage, the Dr wanted to do a few tests to rule out any common and treatable causes of miscarriage. All the blood work came back normal. We chose not to pursue the invasive tests at that time. I couldn't handle it emotionally.
Our lives continued...considerably less bright than before. And, since we chose to tell no one about pregnancy/miscarriage #2, I felt very alone. However, it was a lot better than having to endure all the well-intentioned insensitivity of stupid people that I had to put up with after the first miscarriage. We were trying to prevent pregnancy #3 because I was a wreck emotionally. We got involved in leadership in our small church and went on a missions trip to El Salvador over Thanksgiving, which brings me to...
Pregnancy #3: We were in El Salvador and I just knew I was pregnant again despite all our efforts to prevent it. I was devastated when I returned to the States and took that test. The last thing I wanted to see was a BFP! I don't even remember telling my husband or his reaction...I was in shock and disabled with fear. I cried and cried, but I tried not to do it in front of my sweet husband who did his best to stay upbeat and reassure me. He had the faith that God would give us this baby that I could not understand. He was my rock when I worried about everything (and nothing) and expected the worst...
I wasn't allowed to see the CNM this time because of my history. I was put on Prometrium (progesterone) immediately as a precaution (in case I had a luteal phase defect), and I was watched VERY closely. I wasn't willing to tell anyone! How do you tell people you're pregnant a 3rd time but have no baby? I was in denial for sure. I joined an online support group (well, I read all the posts for a long time before I actually wrote anything) for women who had had multiple miscarriages and were once again pregnant. I liked the anonymity of that and knowing that I wasn't the only one who suffered such terrible loss. The u/s's all looked good. We heard the heartbeat at 10 weeks (first time EVER we hit that milestone!). I gained weight! That was a very good thing! And, I was HUGE very early on. I did everything possible to hide the fact that I was pregnant, and thankfully, no one ever asked, although many later told me they assumed I was gaining weight because I had let myself go (LOL). My father-in-law even came to visit when I easily looked 8 months pregnant and he didn't notice! My love of big sweaters on cool days helped a little, but he is oblivious to those little (or shall I say BIG) details, so I was extremely grateful!
I had several scares. I started spotting at 11 weeks. I started bleeding RED clots a couple of weeks later. Each time. I went in to be checked. Everything looked normal and there was no evidence of a bleed. I continued to bleed through 16 weeks and then it just stopped. I had never experienced spotting before, but it certainly didn't ease my already fearful mind. I was a basket case! At 19 weeks (there were a couple of women in the waiting room that asked how overdue i was--I was HUGE!), we had the anatomy scan (check the heart, other organs, etc.) and we knew then that we had a little girl. A couple of weeks later, we decided to share with our families that I was pregnant again (but we still didn't tell them about pregnancy/miscarriage #2) by sending scrapbook ornaments I made. It included the due date (August 9, 2005), pictures of our little girl via ultrasound, and her name. I was 21 weeks pregnant at that time...more than half-way. And I was STILL sick! Morning (again, ALL DAY) sickness lasted through 26 weeks. Right after I sent those ornaments, I did something STUPID! I picked up our 50 pound boxer/bulldog mix because she got out of our fence and wouldn't come when called. As soon as I did it, I knew I had messed up. My back popped and HURT, and I was leaking a clear fluid...this couldn't be good...
I called the Dr and rested with my feet up. Still, I leaked fluid periodically. I went to the Dr to get checked out. Thankfully, that fluid was pee rather than amniotic fluid! But it was still horrible. I had to go to a chiropractor three times a week for an adjustment and massage therapy at the doctor's order because two of my ribs were twisted and at risk of puncturing my lung! I am skeptical and didn't want anyone manipulating my spine, but the 20 minutes of relief from the excruciating pain I was in was worth each visit! I was put on moderate bed rest (able to be up 4-6 hours a day but still not allowed to do anything "strenuous") and the days went by very slowly. I continued to work at my low stress job (at a scrapbook store) a few hours a week along with weekly Dr appointments and 3 times weekly chiropractor/massage therapy sessions.
I never got comfortable with my pregnancy. I was always waiting for the other shoe to drop after all that had gone wrong. It didn't help that the Dr kept telling me that I wouldn't make it to 28 weeks (no reason was given, but that statement played over and over in my mind my entire pregnancy). Near the end, I had to have non-stress tests (to see how the baby's heartbeat responded to contractions I wasn't feeling). I went an entire day unable to feel her move! She was usually so active that it was a big concern for the Dr's as well as myself. We were sent to labor & delivery (L&D) for monitoring. As soon as we got the monitors strapped on, she decided to kick me and we were sent home a little later with the assurance that all was fine.
I was supposed to have a Dr's appointment at 1pm on that Tuesday, so my husband left for work at 3 am (if he could get a full day in before lunch, he could go with me and not go back to work). At 4 am, I woke up with back pain and decided to take a warm bath to ease the discomfort. This wasn't uncommon...those ribs rubbing up against my lungs HURT! After a few minutes in the tub, I decided I was in labor (back labor SUCKS!) and called my husband to have him come home. I called the Dr and she told me to stay home until my contractions were 2-3 minutes apart for 4-5 hours! I thought, "NO WAY!" and we left for the hospital as soon as my husband got home. I couldn't breathe with the back pain (thanks to those ribs) and the contractions didn't seem to let up.
We were at the hospital and I had been checked by 5:15 am. I was 5 cm dilated and according to the monitors, having 4.5 minute long contractions (2.5 minute peaks) with only 10 seconds from end to finish. Our little girl's heart rate was plummeting with every contraction. The nurse looked at me and said it was time for an epidural. I DID NOT want an epidural! I wanted a natural birth! When I refused, I was told it was either an epidural to see if it could slow down my contractions or I was going to have an emergency C-section. An epidural sounded pretty good then. By 6 am, the anesthesiologist came in (called off a surgery) and he, along with 3 nurses and my husband, gave me that epidural. Because it was being given DURING contractions, the nurses (and my poor husband) had to force my head and shoulders to my knees. This is no easy task and HURTS, especially with the back labor, twisted ribs, and not being able to breathe! But, once the medication took effect (immediately), I was ready to make the anesthesiologist my new best friend! It was the first time in months that I didn't have any pain! And, it worked like a charm in slowing my labor. I had normal contractions 2 minutes apart (on the monitor--I could feel NOTHING) and was fully dilated and effaced by 8 am (that is the first time they checked me after the epidural). The Dr finally came in and broke my water. There was meconium in the amniotic fluid due to the distress she was in during my marathon contractions before the epidural, but she decided to let me "labor down" a little more so she could run over to her office (across the street) and then quickly come back. At noon, the Dr still hadn't returned and I told the nurse I didn't want to wait for the Dr anymore. I still couldn't feel anything (it was a REALLY STRONG epidural) but I should have been pushing at 8 am! At 12:30 pm, the CNM came in.
There were 2 nurses along with the CNM in the room. They were chatting with each other rather than telling me when to push (when you can't feel the contractions, you need to rely on the machine that you can't see!). Needless to say, I pushed for 1 hour 15 minutes. I could feel my cervix tear (quite badly, actually--she stitched me up for 25 minutes) as they kept saying the baby was spinning in the birth canal. Hearing, "I've never seen this before," for the third time (1st with the 4.5 minute contractions & 2nd during the epidural) was a little disheartening. Immediately after my little girl was born, the placenta was birthed as well, with calcifications. They suctioned out her mouth and nose and took her away to make sure no meconium made its way into her lungs. I had to wait to see her and hold her. It seemed like an eternity! But I was being sewn up while I waited so when they brought her back to me, I could concentrate fully on her!
Madeleine was beautiful. She had curly red hair and dark, slate blue eyes. She was born at 1:47 pm on August 2nd, 2005, weighing in at 6 lbs, 8 oz and was 18.3 in long. Seeing her and holding her was the first time I actually felt good about my third pregnancy. It was OVER and my life with my first living child (although she will forever be my 3rd baby) had begun. We were so grateful that God gave her to us.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Children and body image...
Have you ever noticed that children get away with A LOT when it comes to sharing their perceptions of people? I thought about that again today as my 4 year old daughter commented, once again, on the size of my behind.
We don't focus on body image in our house. I try not to share my feelings about what I look like in front of my girls (3 months postpartum is not exactly the best time to look at yourself in the mirror and comment on your size). I don't want them to ever feel like they aren't wonderful the way they are... no matter their body shape and size. So, when my girls point things out, I try to "laugh it off" as much as possible and not react. But sometimes it is HARD! For example...
Madeleine--"Mama, elephants are ENORMOUS! Almost as big as your buns!"
Mama--I'm thinking, can she really think my buns are THAT big?
However, sometimes they can make me feel a little better about myself, too. For example...
Madeleine--"Mama, your pants are falling off your big buns."
Mama--"Is that right?"
Madeleine-- "Yes, I think your buns are getting too small for your pants. It's time to get new pants that are smaller. I don't want to see your big buns when they fall off of you."
My little girl is brutally honest. I am not willing to share with the world some of the other things she says about my "big buns," but they are pretty comical when you get past the initial shock of her observations. I hope that as her buns grow (at 3 feet tall and 29 pounds, her buns aren't very big) she'll stop calling my buns "big," but if not, I'm going to continue to try to have a sense of humor about it. At the very least, not focus on it.
I love her innocence and the fact that she is unaware of the pressures our society places on women to look a certain way (Don't get me started! There will NEVER be a Barbie doll in our house if that tells you something about my feelings on this issue.). And I hope it stays that way! But I could live without all the comments about my "big buns." They really aren't even close to the size of an elephant...I promise!
We don't focus on body image in our house. I try not to share my feelings about what I look like in front of my girls (3 months postpartum is not exactly the best time to look at yourself in the mirror and comment on your size). I don't want them to ever feel like they aren't wonderful the way they are... no matter their body shape and size. So, when my girls point things out, I try to "laugh it off" as much as possible and not react. But sometimes it is HARD! For example...
Madeleine--"Mama, elephants are ENORMOUS! Almost as big as your buns!"
Mama--I'm thinking, can she really think my buns are THAT big?
However, sometimes they can make me feel a little better about myself, too. For example...
Madeleine--"Mama, your pants are falling off your big buns."
Mama--"Is that right?"
Madeleine-- "Yes, I think your buns are getting too small for your pants. It's time to get new pants that are smaller. I don't want to see your big buns when they fall off of you."
My little girl is brutally honest. I am not willing to share with the world some of the other things she says about my "big buns," but they are pretty comical when you get past the initial shock of her observations. I hope that as her buns grow (at 3 feet tall and 29 pounds, her buns aren't very big) she'll stop calling my buns "big," but if not, I'm going to continue to try to have a sense of humor about it. At the very least, not focus on it.
I love her innocence and the fact that she is unaware of the pressures our society places on women to look a certain way (Don't get me started! There will NEVER be a Barbie doll in our house if that tells you something about my feelings on this issue.). And I hope it stays that way! But I could live without all the comments about my "big buns." They really aren't even close to the size of an elephant...I promise!
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Family Entertainment...
Here's a picture of my little family... much larger than the tiny little thumbnail on my profile. This is the first decent picture of all of us together since my nephew, Justin, moved in with us and Charlie was born. And it is recent! It was taken on Saturday, November 7th on a swing in the botanical gardens, which is just a short tram ride (or walk if you are up to it) across the Saluda River and up the hill from our zoo.
Here's a cheap tip... become members at the zoo near you! It's a great deal and loads of family fun (or single fun, as it may be--I used to go alone all the time!) that is unlimited throughout the year! Since we live close to our zoo (15-20 minutes and we are there!) and don't have to pay to get in, we go often! We rarely go to see everything every time because we don't have to! If one of our favorite animals is being shy (the gorillas & tigers really like to hide), we aren't too disappointed because we know we'll be back again soon! Two trips a year would pay for the membership for our family, but sometimes we go twice a week! And the benefits that come with membership are awesome!
Our membership fee gets us unlimited FREE admission to the zoo for our whole family. It also comes with a dozen FREE guest passes for friends we invite. Those alone are worth more than the membership fee! We get in FREE to see the Christmas lights. We get a zoo magazine 6 times a year (my girls go crazy over these!). And we get to go to the zoo after hours a few times a year to see animals "behind the scenes." Our zoo also has a botanical garden, so we can enjoy that year round without any extra expense! The fun doesn't end...
With the reciprocal agreements between AZA zoos and aquariums, we have been able to get cheap (usually FREE) entertainment in places we've visited. We've been to the Lincoln Park Zoo in Chicago (always free), the National Zoo in Washington, DC (always free), the Philadelphia Zoo (nation's oldest zoo!), the Oregon Zoo (my personal favorite as I grew up going there on school field trips....yet, strangely, it isn't as big as I remembered from my childhood), the Virginia Zoo and our own Riverbanks Zoo... for FREE! We have also been to Zoo Atlanta and the South Carolina Aquarium (in Charleston--much nicer than the one in Myrtle Beach in my honest opinion) for half off! We always check to see if there is a zoo nearby when we plan our travels. Maybe someday we'll be able to say we have visited all the zoos on the list!
Have I sold you on the idea yet? If not, you must not like animals... or live hundreds of miles from your nearest zoo (I was going to say in Antarctica, but that would be a little exaggerated). Check out the zoo near you for cheap family fun. Here's a link to our zoo where you can read for yourself the benefits of membership...http://www.riverbanks.org/membership/ , but you can look up your zoo if you don't live in South Carolina...
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
I'm cheap...
Simply put, I'm cheap. Some people call it frugal, but that doesn't really explain it. I HATE to spend more money on something than I absolutely have to, even if I can afford it... I'm CHEAP! I also hate to shop, but that is a different topic entirely.
My nephew moved in with us in July, and he is amazed at how good I am at finding the best deal. He benefited this summer with an $80 backpack that I got for FREE after rebate! There is NO WAY I would have spent $20 on a backpack, let alone $80! But, he got the one he wanted because it was FREE! Notebook paper for 5 cents a pack, packs of pencils for a penny, two-pocket folders for FREE... well this is just a start! I shop clearance sections and bargain bins to find brand new clothes for less than half of what the second hand stores are selling the same item! And the best thing is that there are no stains! I combine coupons with other discounts as much as possible. And, I'm not afraid to ask a manager for a discount either. The worst they can do is say, "No." But they rarely do. If I don't already have a coupon (unless I'm in Target--the big discount retailers don't usually give the discounts unless the item is flawed), I ask and almost always get an extra 10-15% off. I told you I was cheap...
I sign up for emails and coupons from all my favorite stores. Sometimes I'll call a company that makes something I use a lot of (Pampers are the only diapers I could put my girls in to keep them from having terrible diaper rash so I called and P&G sent me tons of coupons!) specifically to ask for coupons. Sometimes it works...sometimes it doesn't, but it is worth the effort.
The best price for anything is FREE! I signed up to use swagbucks after my friend redeemed hers for a Dell laptop computer at amazon.com. It took her almost a year to rack up enough gift cards to get it, but it cost her NOTHING! I'm skeptical so I waited until she used those free gift cards to get real merchandise before I signed up...I could just kick myself for waiting so long! I have been searching the web like I usually do using the swagbucks search engine (it uses google and ask.com)for just over a month and I have redeemed $30 worth of amazon.com gift cards already! If you want in on this kind of fun, click on the banner below or on the box to the right of this post. If you use my link to sign up, I get matching swagbucks (up to 100) when you search and win!
I also like to get money back for things I buy anyway, so I use ebates to get a percentage of my purchase back at most of the on-line stores I shop! You can still use all your coupon codes too (they even tell you about some)! Getting a check in the mail periodically isn't so terrible... join ebates using this link (or copy and paste if the link doesn't work) http://www.ebates.com/rf.do?referrerid=RxWDPXFAK5sVKALuf5KVWw%3D%3D. They start you off with $5 if you join and make a qualifying purchase ($20 at one of the hundreds of stores that participate) within the first 90 days. That is FREE money! If you use my link, I get $5 too!
There are lots of ways to save money. Please share your tips with me as well...because I'm ALWAYS looking for new ways to enhance my cheap skills.
My nephew moved in with us in July, and he is amazed at how good I am at finding the best deal. He benefited this summer with an $80 backpack that I got for FREE after rebate! There is NO WAY I would have spent $20 on a backpack, let alone $80! But, he got the one he wanted because it was FREE! Notebook paper for 5 cents a pack, packs of pencils for a penny, two-pocket folders for FREE... well this is just a start! I shop clearance sections and bargain bins to find brand new clothes for less than half of what the second hand stores are selling the same item! And the best thing is that there are no stains! I combine coupons with other discounts as much as possible. And, I'm not afraid to ask a manager for a discount either. The worst they can do is say, "No." But they rarely do. If I don't already have a coupon (unless I'm in Target--the big discount retailers don't usually give the discounts unless the item is flawed), I ask and almost always get an extra 10-15% off. I told you I was cheap...
I sign up for emails and coupons from all my favorite stores. Sometimes I'll call a company that makes something I use a lot of (Pampers are the only diapers I could put my girls in to keep them from having terrible diaper rash so I called and P&G sent me tons of coupons!) specifically to ask for coupons. Sometimes it works...sometimes it doesn't, but it is worth the effort.
The best price for anything is FREE! I signed up to use swagbucks after my friend redeemed hers for a Dell laptop computer at amazon.com. It took her almost a year to rack up enough gift cards to get it, but it cost her NOTHING! I'm skeptical so I waited until she used those free gift cards to get real merchandise before I signed up...I could just kick myself for waiting so long! I have been searching the web like I usually do using the swagbucks search engine (it uses google and ask.com)for just over a month and I have redeemed $30 worth of amazon.com gift cards already! If you want in on this kind of fun, click on the banner below or on the box to the right of this post. If you use my link to sign up, I get matching swagbucks (up to 100) when you search and win!
I also like to get money back for things I buy anyway, so I use ebates to get a percentage of my purchase back at most of the on-line stores I shop! You can still use all your coupon codes too (they even tell you about some)! Getting a check in the mail periodically isn't so terrible... join ebates using this link (or copy and paste if the link doesn't work) http://www.ebates.com/rf.do?referrerid=RxWDPXFAK5sVKALuf5KVWw%3D%3D. They start you off with $5 if you join and make a qualifying purchase ($20 at one of the hundreds of stores that participate) within the first 90 days. That is FREE money! If you use my link, I get $5 too!
There are lots of ways to save money. Please share your tips with me as well...because I'm ALWAYS looking for new ways to enhance my cheap skills.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Life should be simple...
I like simplicity. Going outside to jump in puddles after a big rain. Making silly faces until my 3 month old grins from ear to ear. Loving my husband and kids. Watching my girls discover nature--toads, ants, lizards, leaves, etc. These are some of the simple things in life that I love! However, life is anything but simple... it is simply complicated.
I'm not usually one to write down my thoughts, but having documentation of my crazy, not-so-simple life might not be a terrible idea. So, here I embark on the adventure of blogging...for as long as I can keep it simple anyway.
I'm not usually one to write down my thoughts, but having documentation of my crazy, not-so-simple life might not be a terrible idea. So, here I embark on the adventure of blogging...for as long as I can keep it simple anyway.
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