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...