I should be 36 weeks pregnant today. We would probably be getting ready to meet our little guy by next week. Instead I’m sitting on my couch holding back tears. Trying not to get anxious about my return to work next week. Glad that my first postpartum period is over. Talk about another punch in the gut showing me I’m no longer expecting and that we don’t have our first baby to love on. I’m just sitting here. Embraced by the lonely silence.
I haven’t just lost my baby through all this. I’ve lost so much.
I’m no longer pregnant. I don’t have my baby in me that I can talk to or just feel moving around. His little kicks and movements may have been out of control a few times but they were always welcomed. Now I’m alone. I never got to take a baby bump photo because I never felt like I had really “popped” the typical preggo belly. It kind of makes sense since Ethan was smaller than he should have been.
Any and all future pregnancies will have to be c-sections due to the type I needed to deliver him. I don’t even get the chance to try a natural birth. C-sections are major surgeries and are riskier each subsequent time which is scary to think about. I still have several weeks to go before I’m cleared by my OB to do anything more than just walking. Several weeks left to physically heal. Milk is still coming in too and I have to go through the pain of that for who knows how long. It’s been almost three weeks and while it’s no longer as painful physically, it is emotionally. My body knows there’s a baby I was supposed to be caring for. Hopefully, the milk dries up soon. This is a whole other kind of torture.
The future plans we made and even those we had not thought of yet were lost. There’s no filling out Ethan’s baby books with all the milestones. Tomorrow he would be one month old, but that page will forever be left blank. Empty. Just how I feel at times. We will never hear his laugh. We won’t ever compete to be his first word. No potty training him. There will never be a first day of school photo. No watching him run around our home and playing with his doggy best friends.
I know, well, I hope, we will get to experience these things with future children. But I also was excited to experience these with our little Ethan. Our first baby. Everything is shattered and broken now and I’m just left here to pick up the pieces. Thankfully, my husband, our family, and our friends are a great help.
I just read my last post and so much has happened since then. It’s been a rollercoaster of emotions and changes this year. This post is going to be a long one…
At the start of this year, my husband and I decided it was time to grow our little family of four (two fur babies). By the end of February, we were expecting! Shocking. We didn’t expect to get pregnant so quickly and easily. We were completely over the moon and couldn’t wait to tell our families. They all thought we were pulling some sort of prank on them at first, but they were all happy.
We heard our little one’s heart beating for the first time a few weeks later. It was one of the best sounds in the world. I almost cried. I managed to hold myself together. We started having regular ultrasounds and loved seeing our little creation grow and grow. We broke the news to our closest friends on St. Patrick’s Day while everyone was together. That was a fun event.
At the same time that we found out I was pregnant, I received a call for a job I had applied for in November. Everything went so quickly and by the start of April, I was in a new position and things were really looking up. My new coworkers made me feel welcomed immediately and my supervisors didn’t have any issues when I told them I was pregnant.
Baby and I had genetic testing done and received the results at the beginning of May. These results also told us we were having a boy. Our first baby boy. Our little guy. My little buddy. We named him Ethan Alexander. My mother-in-law started sending us boxes upon boxes of clothes, blankets, and toys. Other family also started gifting us things for the baby and offering so much support.
The second trimester was full of sonograms and we started seeing a specialist for extra monitoring. I was diagnosed with hypertension and gestational diabetes early on during the pregnancy. I had to start taking blood pressure medicine and insulin to help control things. At 20 weeks, our specialist told us Ethan was measuring 2 weeks behind. This was a surprise since up until our 18-week appointment he was measuring exactly where he needed to be. We ran some more tests to make sure it wasn’t due to common genetic issues or infections and the results came back clear. We waited and hoped he would have a significant growth spurt by the next visit. Unfortunately, we were eventually told he had intrauterine growth restriction (IUGR) so he’d be small. Every day I hoped and prayed that our little guy kept growing. I started feeling him move around and kicking in me and I loved it. The human body is amazing and growing another life felt incredible.
Then came our 28-week appointment with the specialist to follow up on Ethan’s growth. We had the ultrasound tech do her thing. We even got a 3D view of our little guy. He measured 4 weeks behind. That was a significant delay in growth. Then our specialist came in to take his official measurements and discuss the results with us. He told us that Ethan was suffering from something called intermittent absent end-diastolic flow (AEDF). Essentially his placenta and umbilical cord were not providing him with enough blood to grow. That’s when the doctor said it was a “sign of impending fetal demise.”
So you know in movies and tv shows when the character just sees everything moving away from them? Like tunnel vision I suppose? Well, that’s exactly how I felt in that moment. I tried my best to keep listening to what the doctor had to say but I broke. My husband and I started crying. Those aren’t words you want to hear. After a bit, we were able to calm down enough to have the doctor tell us to go to the hospital and get admitted into the high-risk OB area. There was no going home after this appointment – it was straight to the hospital with me and Ethan so we could be constantly monitored and be ready to deliver.
I was put on hospital-bound bed rest and told I’d be there until he was 37 weeks or until we saw that he was in distress and needed to be delivered. The following day was super stressful and my blood pressure was insanely high. Like hypertensive emergency high. They heavily medicated me and monitored me all day until it went back to normal. It was frightening and I would’ve had to deliver if they hadn’t been able to lower it with the last round of medicine they gave me. Thankfully it didn’t happen. The next few days were busy with monitoring Ethan 3x a day. Our nurses were amazing and so helpful. Our little guy seemed to like letting them find him with the doppler and once it was strapped down he would move away! What a little tease. We also noticed he’d move when my husband talked to him. It was the sweetest thing…
I was admitted on Friday evening. By Wednesday evening, Ethan hadn’t moved as much as usual but I wasn’t concerned because he was moving. One of our friends had stopped by to visit and was there when we did our second NST of the day. The nurse stepped out and Ethan’s heart rate was lower than usual. Suddenly 3 other nurses came in and started telling us it was time to have a baby. They had already explained everything so I was ready for it. My husband was panicking as any new dad probably does. Our friend helped by getting in touch with the rest of our friends and updating them. I was given oxygen for Ethan and wheeled off to Labor & Delivery to be prepped. My OB showed up and we had enough time to do an epidural and have my husband in the operating room with me.
At 4:52 PM, August 22nd we heard another beautiful sound. The cry of our first child. Our little miracle. And boy was he truly a miracle. It turned out he had a knot in his umbilical cord very close to the placenta. We were told that oftentimes that ends with having a miscarriage or stillbirth. Our OB and the other medical staff were surprised by the knot and the fact that Ethan was opening his eyes and breathing pretty well on his own at just 29 weeks. He also measured a bit bigger than they expected. He only measured 2 weeks behind, not 4 (ultrasounds aren’t the most accurate). I got to say hello and kiss my baby boy before he and dad were whisked off to the NICU. I was stitched back up and returned to recover. My family and our friends started showing up. It wasn’t the ideal story of Ethan’s birthday, but it was a happy evening nevertheless. We had our baby and now we just had to wait for him to grow in the NICU. I was to be released from the hospital at the end of the week.
Leaving the hospital without my baby was tough. I got home and essentially had an anxiety attack by the next day. That week we spent going to the hospital twice a day and watching our baby on the camera when we weren’t at his side. The NICU was full of its own ups and downs. We were able to do kangaroo care (skin to skin) with him and hold our baby. Seeing the joy on my husband’s face when he held Ethan for the first time brought tears to my eyes. It was a special moment I will never forget.
Sadly, Ethan wasn’t tolerating feeds and his belly was getting distended and discolored as the days went on. One night we were told to head to the hospital right away to be with him. Not knowing anything else, we thought we were going to get there and he’d be gone. My husband and I were a mess driving to the hospital. That 15-minute drive was the longest it could be. Once there we saw his vitals were ok but he still wasn’t doing well. We spent two nights in a room at the NICU. The worry was that he’d get NEC and require surgery. The day we went back home because he was doing better we received another call. After 11 days in the NICU, his bowels perforated and we were told that if all went as expected it would be a fairly simple surgery to redirect his system with an ostomy bag for a few weeks and then another surgery to connect his bowels when everything healed. We agreed he needed the surgery and went back to the NICU room we had just left hours before to wait. Shortly after the nurse practitioner went to get us and walked us to Ethan’s NICU area where the surgery was being performed at his bedside. They sat us down and the surgeon started explaining:
Originally they thought that a very limited section of Ethan’s bowels was not working correctly. Once they opened him up, they realized it was the opposite. 98 percent of his bowels were dead. The 2 percent they saw on the x-rays was actually the live portion. Due to two very rare malformations while in utero, Ethan’s bowels had not grown properly. That’s when we heard another thing no parent wants to hear. The living portion of his bowels was not “viable to sustain life.” Ethan’s blood pressure and heart rate were already declining. We were asked if we wanted to hold him as he passed away. So for the next hour or so we cried and held our baby and each other. He was a tough little fighter. He didn’t seem to be ready to go. I didn’t want him to go. Leaving the hospital and the NICU this time was different. We were going home alone without our precious miracle, with only our memories of this short time we got to spend together and all our future plans and dreams crushed.
I still have almost a month left to go on my recovery from the surgery but a lifetime to go on recovering from this deep hurt. Some days are ok but most nights are not. Some nights are full of a deep pain and sadness. Today is a tough day. I was supposed to have my baby shower. We were supposed to be celebrating Ethan’s upcoming arrival… I am crushed but trying to work through it all…
Full disclosure: I started this post 10 months ago. It’s been sitting in my drafts since then. Warning: this is probably going to be a long and emotionally-fueled post. As hard as it was to write the first part and update with the latest, I’m not sure if I’m ready to talk about this in real life – even with my closest friends. I love y’all and if I do talk about it it’ll be difficult and probably only online and maybe only bits and pieces. That’s just how I am. I don’t think any one person knows EVERYTHING about me, except Dustin. Even he gets things delayed. Sorry babe. Anyway, my last post touched on this whole topic a bit but these were some of my thoughts from earlier this year regarding our future.
10 months ago: My overall and deepest desire this year is to lose weight and be healthier. My husband’s #1 goal is to decrease our debt significantly. The reason? We want to start our family. :O Shocking! I’ve gone and said it!
Honestly, that’s not something I really like to talk about much but perhaps sharing it and just putting it out in the universe is what I need right now. For years I’ve jokingly told my mom and family we were only going to have dogs, no children, whenever the topic came up. First of all, I don’t need or want others’ input and opinions on when to start a family or how big of a family to have. Second, my husband and I would ideally like to have our stuff together before bringing a child into the world. But then again, my mom raised two kids alone for a while with a lot less than we have. My brother and I turned out alright (shoutout to my first frienemy for life). Finally, my body is in no condition for this but who knows if it will ever be.
This is the biggest issue I have to deal with everyday. I suffer silently. I know I’m not alone. I follow many women on Instagram and in my PCOS support group on Facebook who are in the same position. That doesn’t make it any less lonely. I fear that even if I lose weight I won’t be able to have children. Do you know how heartbreaking and depressing this can be? I can push the thoughts and negativity away most of the time. But there are some days it all just piles on and I can’t handle it anymore.
– That is where my draft ended 10 months ago. Obviously, I was not ready to share it then.-
Present-day: Last night I broke…and my poor husband… I am so lucky that he is understanding and most of the time has enough patience to deal with the crazy mess that I am. He let me break down and sob and stress out and have an anxious moment. He patiently watched me and let me be even while I obsessively messed with a strand of hair to soothe myself and rambled on and just poured my worries out. He knew I had to work through it but he knew that just him being there was more than I could ask for. It’s what I needed of him and he understood without me actually having to say anything. True love and friendship right there. After I basically bombarded him with all of this he was loving and suggested I keep working through the stress and anxiety. We walked our dogs then went to the gym. It definitely helped to work some of that energy off.
When the meltdown was mostly over, he asked why I hadn’t told him before. Like I mentioned at the start of this, even he gets things delayed. I told him I was trying to be strong (it’s something I’ve done all my life as “the oldest” child and still have trouble with).
Part of my worries regarding trying to conceive is everything that comes with my PCOS. The hormonal issues can cause infertility and miscarriages. I’m already high-risk due to my weight which also causes issues. Although side note – I got my lab work back from my doctor and all the basic stuff was fine!
The other concern is now that my husband has decided to return to school. Full-time. This means he’s quit his regular job, picked up a part-time job and therefore taken a significant pay cut. He’s in training now and we don’t know yet how much he’ll be working after Thanksgiving. It’s scary thinking about trying to afford a baby and paying off debt and our regular bills on less than we’ve been making. I know there are people who do it with less but like I told him yesterday, I want more than I had for my children.
*sigh* I could probably go on and on in circles but I won’t. I’ll leave it at this for now. This was therapeutic for sure and it actually does make me feel a bit better knowing I’m about to take this off my shoulders. 🙂
Since the last time I wrote, to my own shock, I actually DID start working out again. I will admit that I gave up after a few days the first week because I was so damn sore from my leg day workout. Weak. The following week I was just trying to get through that horrible time that most ladies get. Y’all know what I’m sayin’. So I pretty much was deadddd. But I’m back at it this week! It’s Wednesday and I worked out both Monday AND Tuesday. Today is a cold and rainy day here in the DFW area and I’m spending it indoors cuddled up with my dogs. No worries though. My workouts are home workouts that don’t require fancy gym equipment – just bodyweight or light dumbbells.
I went to my primary care physician this week for my annual physical and because they wouldn’t refill my medicine without checking in again. I still need to go back to get my blood drawn for labs because I was in a rush on Monday, so I should have results back early next week. My blood pressure was good (to my surprise) but my weight has obviously gone up since I saw him last year though. I had gone down some around May but I gained it back and more. Here’s to me being brave… *breathe* My highest weight is now roughly 289 (with clothes – that makes a difference right???) UGH! I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone my weight except my husband. This is really hard to admit. However, I think it’s an important step in my journey. By putting it out there I have given myself some sort of accountability as I don’t want to come back and say I’ve gained even more weight. I’m telling y’all, I really want to try this time. I want to lose the weight. I NEED to lose the weight and get healthier. There are a couple of reasons for this besides the fact that I’m tired of walking around feeling like Violet from Willy Wonka.
My mom has been dealing with several health issues for a while now. She was diagnosed with stomach ulcers, attributed to stress, many years ago. Most recently she was diagnosed with gout, arthritis (not sure which kind), and the scariest is Diabetes Type 2. It’s scary to hear because she’s had issues with her sugar before and doesn’t like to take medicine and she’s stubborn in her eating habits. She doesn’t live in the safest of neighborhoods so I’m glad she owns a treadmill but I’m not sure how often she uses it. My point is that Diabetes is a real threat to my health, not only due to my PCOS and insulin resistance but now it’s most likely always been in my genetics.
(NOTE: to my IRL friends and family, please don’t bring up what I’m about to say because it’s a difficult subject for me to talk about seriously…I know I joke about it and have been known to say I just want dogs but that’s just a front so I don’t have to delve deeper into the subject.)
The other biggest reason I really need to get my stuff together is that my husband and I want to get started on our family. It’s a touchy subject for me with my health and the possibilities. The what-ifs scare me. I might post about it another day, maybe.
But there you have it. This is more for myself, as usual, just to get my thoughts out and try and work through stuff. I’m working on getting my eating habits on a healthy track. I’ll be starting Victoza again – just a sample for now – along with my regular meds. I’m hoping it will get me started in the right direction along with my exercise plan and diet. Low carb is what I’m aiming for or at least fewer carbs and take out/fast food, for now, so please share any recipes or Pinterest boards if you’d like.
It’s the most wonderful time of the year.
Fall is my favorite season. So many holidays, brisk weather (a bit delayed here in good ol’ Texas), delicious food and drinks (hot cocoa anyone?), and beautiful colors.
I recently went through a [self-diagnosed] depressive episode that lasted longer than I’d like to admit. I honestly have no clue when it lifted or how. I just now am realizing that I even made it through and that I’m feeling more positive. Unfortunately, I’m still trying to get a grip on my constantly racing mind. The lack of sleep is insane. I wake up and have so much trouble falling back asleep. Then I keep thinking about how little sleep I will get and my mind goes all over the place. Pinterest keeps suggesting pins related to anxiety. Thanks for caring, Pinterest. I’ll be making my annual wellness doctor’s visit soon and I will have to remember to bring it up. The stigma that comes along with mental health issues is gnawing at me though. Like, how do I bring this up? I have a good doctor who takes the time to listen to my complaints but I still can’t help but worry that my concerns will be dismissed. I know it’s irrational thinking but hello, that’s what I’m going in for.
Getting to my original reason for this post – I’m feeling more positive in general and I think I’m ready to tackle my issues again. At least, I want to believe I am. Every time I say I’m getting my health back on track, I fail…fall…crash and burn. Not only do I probably disappoint my family and friends (I can’t assume I do because obviously, they have more important things to worry about than me) but I definitely disappoint myself. Shouldn’t I care more about myself to try harder? We all should care about ourselves. So! I’m going to reset and start fresh. Just like the fall leaves are getting ready: giving the tree a new chance, new opportunities are coming. That totally sounded better to myself in my head.
Here we go again!
There’s been a slowdown at work today and I may have spent it perusing travel pins on Pinterest and travel blogs. In doing so, I realized I never really posted anything about our trip to Denver, CO last year, so I plan to share a post on that soon. This also got me wishing we could just pick up and go on a vacation! My job and bosses are super chill and allow me to have a lot of flexibility, especially when it’s our quieter seasons. Unfortunately, my hubby doesn’t have that luxury and has to ask for time off from his fairly new job way ahead of time. Sure, we could do weekend trips, except his new schedule has him with split weekends. Friday off, Saturday on, Sunday off. Woe is me.
It was about this time last year when I wrote another post about my wanderlust. We had a pretty great set of adventures planned in 2016 and luckily were able to add in a few extra trips: our belated honeymoon to Colorado was in February, Tokyo in April/May, Pennsylvania in October, and our bonus trip to Georgia for the PCOS Symposium was in September. My in-laws moved to Galveston at the end of 2015 so we spent several weekends with them during the warmer months.
This year we will probably spend some time in Galveston with my in-laws again. The only other real trip/vacation we have planned is for my husband’s cousin’s wedding. It’s a destination wedding so we’ll be traveling to Florida. I’ve seen photos of the white beaches and can’t wait to put up my feet and lay back with a mimosa or two in hand. It’ll probably be rum and coke but you get what I’m sayin’. Alas, that’s not until the end of JULY!! Until then I’ll satisfy my travel bug by reading more blogs and figuring out how to convince my husband that we NEED to get away. Perhaps on a cruise ship. 😉