Let’s Talk About Poop

As the mother of a boy and wife to a 30-something boy I’m pretty confident that this won’t be the last poop post.

Saturday D blew. out. his diaper. Twice. 

Since his surgery D has been a once a day kind of guy. The time of day varies, but 9 times out of 10 he would leave a present in his diaper for someone to discover at some point during the day. Until Saturday, D had only had one blow out in his entire three (?!?!?) months. I thought maybe it was a growth spurt, a fluke or maybe D wasn’t feeling well. He slept in until 11am Saturday. Thank you, D!

No such luck.

Yesterday morning I walked in D’s room and was assaulted by an incredible stink. D, his pajamas, swaddler, sheets and blankets were covered in poop. I *knew* there was a reason I had ‘neglected’ to change sheets Friday! Booger earned himself his 3rd bath in less than 24 hours.

B had to work this weekend, so D and I went to my mom’s house for coffee and Sunday lunch. D ate right before we did and no sooner did we sit down than D (quite audibly!) filled his pants. His diaper managed to contain everything this time and all he needed was a diaper change and we were good to go.

After his next feed it was the same story. Auntie H feed D his bottle, burped him and not 10 minutes after finishing his bottle, blew out his britches… clothes and all. The look on my sister’s face was hilarious!

I have never in my life seen my sister hand over a baby that fast. 

B fed D after we got home. Same story. B was so grossed out, he put D right down. Poop on the carpet be damned!

D ate his last feed with no issues. I thought all was well.

Wrong!

I went to get D out of his crib this morning and sure enough. Shit City. All over the clean sheets I had just put on his bed! At least I was smart enough to put dark sheets on his bed. I got D all cleaned up and ready to eat. Sans clothes. Momma ain’t no fool and I despise doing laundry.  And poop laundry is just as bad as puke laundry. 

Sure enough. In the time it took me to put D in his bouncy seat and rinse out the bottle, he had pooped. It was a contained crap, but a crap nonetheless.

What is going on with my son?!

Is pooping this much normal frequency and quantity wise?

Am I being a neurotic first time mom? I will be the first to admit that I am on high alert when it comes to D’s digestive system.

How can I contain the crap so it isn’t every-damn-where?

Does he need bigger diapers? He wears size one diapers and is well within the weight range for the size, but they aren’t loose. B’s solution to containment is to tighten the diapers, but if I go any tighter the poor kid is going to lose circulation!  

Help!

I think I’ll keep him. Even if he’s a poop machine.

 

 

Whirlwind

So the past few weeks since the last post have been an absolute whirlwind.

Christmas with all the various parts of the families.  I didn’t have to change a single diaper Christmas Eve OR Christmas. Win!

New Year’s. The only reason I was awake to ring in the new year was because someone was demanding to eat. Men! 🙂 D had issues maintaining and gaining weight. We were going in for weekly weight checks. 

Once the 2013 rolled around I figured the chaos was behind us and D and I could figure out and set a schedule for how our days were going to go.

Wrong!

A few days after the new year D started throwing up. Seriously throwing up. We started using blankets for burp cloths because regular burp cloths couldn’t contain the mess. It escalated to projectile vomiting after every. single. feed. I was up to at least one, if not two, pukey loads of clothes a day. D’s and mine. I loathe doing laundry. Especially puke laundry. 

I tried everything to stop the vomiting. Smaller feeds. Burping after every ounce. Taking the bottle out of his mouth ever 30 seconds so D didn’t get too much at once. Smaller nip.ples on the bottle. Soy formula. Gas drops. Sitting up for 15, 30, 60 minutes after a feed. Everything twitter, facebook, family and friends suggested. None of it was helping and I was losing my mind.

I didn’t want to be the mom who constantly takes her child to the doctor for no reason. Sunday night D was still projectile puking and I decided I would make him an appointment just to be on the safe side. My gut was telling me this wasn’t normal and maybe he needed some reflux medication. I called Monday morning and the on call nurse agreed that with D’s vomiting and his sudden lack of wet diapers that D needed an appointment and we scheduled one for Monday afternoon. My sister came over to hang out Monday morning and decided to come with us to the appointment to spend more time with D before her class right around the corner from the doctor’s office.

The doctor asked why we were there and after giving D an exam He’d lost all the weight he’d fought so hard to put on and was back down below his birth weight. Again. she thought D may have something as simple as reflux but suspected he may have pyloric stenosis (thickening of the muscle between the stomach and small intestine that keeps food from being digested requiring surgery to fix) and sent us to the hospital for a stat ultrasound to confirm the diagnosis. Auntie A and I drove our cars to the hospital focusing on driving was the only thing keeping me from falling apart. and went straight from out patient testing back for the ultrasound. I hated having to call my sister and let her know we probably weren’t going to make it to the appointment to pick out bridesmaid dresses and see her in her wedding gown. Thankfully M was awesome at calming me down. And she was debating whether to cancel the whole appointment to come down to the hospital. Thank you, Tia. We love you!

Thank goodness Auntie A decided to come along for the appointment. B working, doesn’t have any cell reception in his building and was due to be leaving any minute. I sent him an email and text messages letting him know I needed him to call me asap. I didn’t want to focus on the worst case scenario, as hormonal, first time moms who are kicking themselves for waiting so long to take their kids to the doctor could possibly be, surgery, and tell him over the phone or in an email.

I finally got a hold of B and told him that D and I were okay but he needed to come to the hospital. I will never forget the sound of B’s voice when I told him what was going and that our son may need surgery. B was worried, but he was incredibly reassuring and supportive. And didn’t make any jokes about my cry voice over the phone.

B got there in time to hear the radiologist’s diagnosis- D did have pyloric stenosis and was going to be admitted straight from the ultrasound. My four week old son was going to have surgery.

Due to flu season being in full swing the peds floor was full and I ended up in the waiting room for 30 minutes with a baby who was starving and letting every person in the waiting know for a room to open up while B went home to pack bags. D couldn’t eat until after surgery…and we had no idea when that was going to be. Poor guy was starving, but he was a trooper!

Once we got a room the nurses took D’s vitals and needed to draw blood to see what his electrolyte levels were and to start an IV. They draw blood and start IVs in a procedure room so the parents can either stay and watch or as a reason to not have to see their child poked and prodded and to have all potentially needed tools in the same room. And it was painted with a really cool mural on the wall to put the kids at ease. I opted to go with for my peace of mind- to know that D wasn’t in too much pain and to make sure the nurses knew what they were doing. Not that I could do it myself. One nurse distracted him with one of the many toys in the room while another tried to start an IV, but because D was dehydrated his veins wouldn’t cooperate and he ended up with a scary looking one in his head. D’s labs came back and he was scheduled for surgery Tuesday morning at 11am.

Monday night was quite possibly the longest night of my life. D was beyond hungry, would not. stop. crying. and I was running solo. It was the night of the Notre Dame/Alabama championship game, the televisions at the hospital are itty bitty, it was not going to be quiet for B to hear the commentary and these sick little kids did not need to see/hear the adult temper tantrum that was a possibility if the game did not go well for ND so I sent B home. Definitely the right choice!  

Tuesday morning finally rolled around and my Dad came to keep me company while I waited for B to get to the hospital. There was someone coming to appraise the house to refinance our mortgage. Interest rates are LOW, yo! I was incredibly thankful my parents were with me. My youngest sister had emergency brain surgery at 2 weeks old and they know exactly how it feels for your child to need a surgical procedure out of the blue and how helpless to do anything you feel. 

D went back to pre-op at 10 and I managed to keep it together. Definitely helped that I got to carry him instead of walking behind him being wheeled down in the bed that looked like a cage. D’s surgeon was an amazing man who sat down, looked me in the eye told me step for step what he was going to be doing, in terms that I could understand without a medical degree. He told us that D would probably be taken back for surgery about 11am, the procedure would take roughly an hour, D would be post-op and we could hold our son by 12:15pm plus/minus 15 minutes. We could lay eyes on our son and hold him by 12:30. Definitely reassuring to know exactly what was happening and when we could see D. B made it to pre-op in time to hold D and spend a few minutes with him. The surgical nurses came in, commented on how adorable D was (naturally), and took our little baby away. Then, I lost it.  

My parents, B and I checked in to the surgical waiting room and the waiting game began. There was an adorable  little girl not much older than D in the waiting room and I lost it all over again. After a few minutes one of the nurses came out to let us know D’s surgery had started. Right on time. 90 minutes until we could see our sweet boy, tops.

Thank goodness for technology and wireless internet!

Right at noon the surgeon came out to let us know the procedure went well and let us know D was in recovery and was starting to wake up. He even showed us photos from the surgery! Another nurse came out and took us back to see D.

D in recovery. Hard to see our son like this, but nice knowing he was on his way to feeling much, much better.

D was going to be in recovery for at least an hour and my parents were anxious to see D as well. B and I ran down to the cafeteria to get a quick bite to eat while the grandparents spent some time with D and he was back in his room before we could finish eating.

Daddy holding his son for the first time post-op.

D had to wait 3 hours after surgery to eat for the swelling to go down and potentially keep food down. B gave D his first single ounce of food in over 24 hours. For the first time in days  D kept food down! I held D after he ate and kept the bottle down. He looked me right in the face and smiles for the first time. There was no doubt in my mind that D was feeling tons better.

Feeeeeeeeeeeed me!

The next few feedings did not go as well as the first. The surgeon had told us that 90% of patients go home the day after surgery. D needed to keep 2 oz down for 3 feedings in a row in order to go home and he earned himself an extra night in the hospital. I had a lot of guilt about D needing to stay the extra day. I felt like a really bad mom for not listening to my instincts and taking him to the doctor sooner. But that’s another story.  

After lots of tears D’s and mine D finally kept his 2 oz down for the 3rd time the wee hours on Thursday morning and the three of us finally got to go home! B burned through vacation days to stay at the hospital with D and in support of me. I did the ugly cry more than once in the days were in the hospital. I am forever thankful for how supportive B and our families were.

I was more than a little nervous to take D home and take are of him, but this face was a definite step in the right direction.

D’s Birth Story

Dearest D,

Today we’ve been home from the hospital for a whole week and you are a whopping 10 days old. Or at least you were when I first started writing this. You don’t leave me a whole lot of free time… It feels so much longer and so much shorter at the same time.

Sorry, Momma’s been slacking and hasn’t written down your birth story before now. But you’re too cute and slightly demanding. 🙂

The night before you were born was the last Saturday I was supposed to be pregnant before being induced the following Friday. I was planning on taking a taking a final picture each day of the week before you came.

Last Saturday pregnant

Little did I know that this would be the last belly pic I would ever take of you. I went to bed Saturday night thinking it was just like any other Saturday night.

I woke up at 2:15am having to pee and feeling a little…weird. It took me a second to realize that my water was breaking.

Let me tell you, Little Man, that having your water break is absolutely nothing like the Hollywood makes it out to be! No one ever told me that once your water breaks, you continue to leak/occasionally gush fluid until the baby is born. Who knew! And thankfully your Dad strongly suggested I sit on a towel.

As soon as I knew what was going on I ran to the bathroom hollering holy shit!

Strangely enough, the same thing I said when I got  the first big fat positive. 🙂

Your Daddy woke up and started getting the last few things ready for the hospital bag while I called the doctor and he told me to go ahead and head to the hospital. After making sure I didn’t pee myself…

We packed up and got to the hospital about 3am and bypassed triage and headed straight to labor and delivery.

Our nurse, Pam, was hilarious. She had us laughing and joking around to distract us from the life changing event that was about to happen to us. She had us up and walking the halls and by 4am I had some pretty decent back contractions going on. Pam suggested the birthing ball for pain relief and to move you down.

Just a heads up…the birthing ball looks more like a pair of balls than an actual ball-for balance. Pam, Dad and I had plenty of laughs about how balls are what got us in the situation we were in. Sorry, your parents are incredibly immature. 

The birthing ball definitely worked. When Pam checked me she could actually feel your head! My contractions were definitely more intense. And ALL in my back. Pam said you were face up and having a hard time making it under my pelvic bone and that’s why everything was in my back. The ball and breathing weren’t cutting it and it was time for an epidural.

The anesthesiologist came in and despite his Big 10 Ohio State t-shirt Daddy let him in the room and he gave me an epidural. As die hard Notre Dame-ers we are NOT Big 10 fans. 

It didn’t work.

I tried to tough it out a little longer, but back labor is no joke and who-who-he wasn’t cutting it.

By this point Pam had gone home and we had a new nurse named Lori. Lori let me know that it was totally okay to ask for the anesthesiologist to come back and try again and that being in this much pain didn’t have to be part of the process if I didn’t want it to be and no one was going to judge me for asking for an epidural. Dr. Ohio State gave me another epidural.

It didn’t work.

Dr. Ohio State decided that the third time was the charm and to try again. I don’t know if it was in my head or out loud, but I remember asking God to make this one work and to provide me some relief. Daddy said the doctor was so focused on making the epidural work that he got half way through and started over again.

It didn’t work.

I’m sure time must have kept on ticking, but I honestly don’t remember much. I remember holding on to the bed rail as hard as I could and trying not to cry. I remember Grandma and Grandpa stopping by after church and Grandma’s ice cold hands feeling amazing as she brushed my hair out of my face and told me how she definitely thought you were going to have my lips based on the ultrasound picture I received earlier in the week.

I remember Daddy coming over and asking me what he could do to help and telling him I wasn’t sure I could do this much longer, that even when I wasn’t having a contraction, I could feel everything in my back and it felt like I was. Dad went into full on Daddy Mode and asked if he could push the button for the nurse. Lori came in and Daddy asked her what Plan B was, because this was NOT working and he couldn’t stand to see his wife in pain like I was in. He said if there was no Plan B, someone needed to come up with one right now because this wasn’t going to cut it any longer. Lori called in Baby Doctor who checked me and said I was still at 8cm.

I remember being 3cm and 5cm, but I don’t remember being 8…  

Baby Doctor said you weren’t going to be coming out on your own and he thought it was time for a c-section. He ran through the risks and Lori grabbed paperwork and got Daddy some super attractive paper scrubs. While Daddy changed Lori quizzed me on what Baby Doctor said some of risks of a c-section and had me sign the consent form. I know I wrote something, but I’m not positive it was my name I signed. I asked Baby Doctor how long it was going to be before I was wheeled back and he told us 30 minutes or less. I made sure to look at the clock and it was 1:10pm

I also remember thinking it sounded like a pizza was being delivered rather than a baby. 

I was wheeled into the operating room after running into no less than 2 walls/doors and I remember thinking it was incredibly bright. Lori helped me slide from the bed to the operating table, told me how fabulous I was doing, that I was going to get to meet you soon and held my hands as I breathed through contractions while Dr. Ohio State started attempting the spinal.

Truth be told, I was absolutely terrified the spinal wouldn’t take and I was have to be put under general anesthesia. Dr. Ohio State warned me that might need to happen if things didn’t work out the way he was hoping they would when he gave me his piece before I went in the OR. He held my hand and promised me he was going to do everything in his power to make sure the spinal worked and that he was incredibly sorry the epidurals didn’t take and that I was in pain.

After several attempts, the spinal FINALLY worked I cried and I was delightfully numb as the people in the operating room were counting instruments (which I found strangely comforting) and putting a big blue curtain up so I didn’t see anything. Baby Doctor came in with Daddy right behind. Daddy sat right behind me on my left side and I remember looking at him and thinking that this was the last moment it was going to be just the two of us, forever. And I cried.

Baby Doctor did his thing and I remember hearing your first cry. It was loud and strong and I was instantly smitten with you. I looked at your Daddy and started to cry. Yes, again. You were handed off to a nurse to be checked over, cleaned up and weighed. Daddy got to watch and take pictures. He even moved the curtain back to make sure I could see as much as I could of your first moments in the world.  Once she was done, the nurse bundled you up and brought you over so I could see and meet the tiny person that I’d felt moving  and growing inside of me. I gave you and kiss right on your chubby little cheek and cried some more. Surprise, surprise. The nurse gave you to your Daddy to hold for a few minutes. I remember looking over my shoulder and watching your Daddy fall in love with you as he looked in to the face of his son for the first time. I won’t say whether or not Daddy teared up, but I sure did! After a few minutes you, Daddy and the nurse went to wait for me in the recovery room while Baby Doctor finished up. Which seemed like forever. I wanted to be with my family.

Eventually I was wheeled into recovery and the first thing I saw was your Daddy holding you skin to skin. As soon as I was situated it was my turn to finally hold my sweet baby boy and bond with you. It was definitely heaven on earth. After an hour-ish as a family your grandmas came back to meet you and then Tia Melissa and Aunt Hannah got to meet you. Aunt Hannah was hilarious, the first thing she did when she came back to recovery was ask when she could hold you. She was the first person other than hospital staff and your parents to hold you! After a few hours in recovery we went to our room and Uncle Jeff and Grandpa C got to meet and hold you. Poppa W would have been there if he could have, but he was really sick with the flu and didn’t want to get any of us sick. 

When it was all said and done, you came in to the world 12/9/12 at 1:54pm weighing 8lbs 4oz and 20.5in long. D, your Daddy and I have fallen hopelessly in love with you and more and more each day. You are our precious miracle baby that we are loving getting to know. Despite the difficult delivery, the complicated pregnancy and heartbreak in getting pregnant, you are beyond worth it and i wouldn’t change you for the world. Thank you for choosing us to be your parents.

I love you to infinity and beyond,

Mom

Our first family picture!

The End is Near

Tomorrow I start going to the OB twice a week until Nugget makes his grand entrance.

Exactly one month from tomorrow is my due date and just over a week away from being considered ‘full term’.

It’s definitely time to pack my hospital bag. As B so kindly reminds me. Daily.

The thing is, I don’t know what to pack!

I know I’ll need pj’s, phone chargers, undies, toiletries, comfy clothes to go home in, a few days worth of B’s meds and some outfits for Nugget, his car seat and snowsuit.

And lotion and lip balm. It’s winter(ish)  in Michigan and the hospital I’m planning to deliver in was so dry when I spent time there in August. If my lips and skin were dry then, I can only imagine what it’s going to be like in December.  B is incredibly picky about what kind of lotion he uses and the crap they had was useless. 

That can’t possibly be it. I’m a notorious over-packer. 

And how much can I pre-pack? I’m definitely going to be using my toothbrush, shampoo and conditioner and shaving my legs between now and when this baby is born.

That’s the other thing. Depending on how much bigger this child gets determines how and when he’s going to be born. I am not tall/big in stature. My OB has already warned me that if Nugg is 8lbs or less I should have no problems with a vaginal delivery. If he’s 9lbs or less she would be comfortable attempting a vaginal delivery as long as I knew that it may result in a c-section. If he’s bigger than 9lbs, which I was, it wouldn’t be safe for either of us and I would need to have a c-section.  Nugget was 6lbs 4oz and counting at the 35 week growth ultrasound last week. For all I know, we could be celebrating Christmas/B’s birthday in the hospital!

What was/would you pack in your hospital bag?

 

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year!

It’s November 1st.

The official beginning to my most favoritest time of the year. I am totally aware favoritest isn’t a real word. THAT is how much I love this time of year!

November means Thanksgiving is mere weeks away. Not only does Thanksgiving bring delicious, once a year culinary masterpieces it’s the first family togetherness holiday.

No matter which parts of which family time is spent with when. Dysfunction(s) and all.

Too bad Xanax isn’t an option this year…

Right after Thanksgiving is another personal holiday.

My birthday! 

And it will two years since my parents’ separation. Instead of mourning all the emotional baggage, I’ve decided to try focus on all the positive things that have come from it and positive changes. In my relationships with my parents. My sisters. My husband. I can actually see and find positives. That’s some serious progress in the past 2 years.

Two weeks after my birthday, my son is ‘supposed’ to be born.

The son I never thought I would have.

Two weeks after my due date is a double whammy.

Brian’s birthday AND Christmas.

More fabulous food family togetherness!

I love this time of year. All the decorations, the food and the family. I can hardly wait!

But seriously, how is it November already?! Where did 2012 go?!

 

 

No More Complications, Please!

This morning I had my 30 week OB appointment.

I went to my appointment by myself like I usually do. There’s no point in B missing work to come to a 15 minute appointment where I pee on a stick, have my vitals taken, get my belly measured and the doc listens to the heartbeat. I literally spend more time in the waiting room than I do with the doctor.

My pee looked good, I have no idea what my weight was (I get on the scale backwards. I really don’t want to know) my blood pressure was 120/72. The doc measured my belly at 33 weeks. Oh. Em. Gee. I was a GINORMOUS baby and B was a good sized baby even being born 2 weeks early. 

Then the doctor put the doppler on to listen to Nugg’s heart. Nugget is usually pretty active in the morning and today was no exception. He was moving all over the place and the doctor was having trouble getting his heartbeat for more than a few seconds at a time. When he did get it, there were skips and irregularities in Nugget’s heartbeat. Doc immediately said he wanted an ultrasound asap to check Nugg’s heart and growth.

I was trying really hard not to freak out and desperately wishing Brian was there. Thankfully there was an open slot right after my appointment and I pretty much went right back for the ultrasound.

Nugget’s heart was strong and steady the entire time. Thank goodness!  Doc thinks it was a fluke due to Nuggs moving around, but will keep monitoring just in case. 

U/S also showed Nugget is only about a week ahead of schedule and I have lots of fluid that’s making me measure big. I may even get to have this baby naturally around the time he’s due. Here’s hoping… 12/12/12 would seriously be the most bad ass birthday, ever!

Ultimately the appointment went well, for which I am extremely thankful.

But I think I’m going to bring a friend with me from now on. Just in case.

Pregnancy Guilt

Is it wrong to feel guilty about being pregnant when so many friends in real life and the infertility community on twitter are struggling to get and stay pregnant?

Each couple’s infertility story and journey is different and unique to them.

Comparatively, our journey could be a lot different.

I stopped taking birth control pills shortly after our first anniversary summer of 2010. We weren’t trying, but we weren’t not trying either.

Then I missed my period.

Holy crap!

The pregnancy test was negative.

No big deal, my body just needs time to adjust. I’d been on the pill for about 5 years to help with extreme cramping and really heavy periods.

My period never came.

I took pregnancy tests every few weeks on the off chance that I was somehow pregnant. Always trying to prepare myself to see the one line but hoping to see those two lines saying I was pregnant.

B knew that something was going on, but I took great lengths to hide all the pregnancy tests and tried not to show him how scared I was that I would never be able to give him the kids he wanted. In the back of my mind I didn’t want him to regret marrying someone who couldn’t make him a Dad.  Tampon boxes are the perfect hiding place. 

By November I still hadn’t had a period. I scheduled an appointment to see my doctor and have all the tests done.

Thanksgiving weekend 2010, the bottom fell out of my world. My parents separated. The family unit I had known my entire life was changing. A few days later I was diagnosed with PCOS (polycystic ovarian syndrome) and was told the chances of my getting pregnant without significant medical intervention were slim to none.  And two days after that I turned 25. Happy freaking birthday to me.

Telling Brian I wasn’t going to be able to have children was far and away the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. I don’t know if it was the wine or the hours and hours of crying but I felt like absolute ca-ca the next morning. Emotional hangover mixed with wine hangover- no bueno!

I started meds for the treatment of the pcos and prenatal vitamins for the other symptoms I was experiencing. (Acne, hair loss, facial hair, bumpy and brittle finger nails) I wanted to punch the pharmacy tech who congratulated me on my pregnancy and need for prenatals. Jackhole.

After several months of missed periods and then periods that lasted 2+ weeks my family doctor sent me to a fertility specialist. After looking at my temperature charts and being monitored by the specialist, she wanted me to start taking Clomid December of 2011 and go from there. After failed Clomid cycles I wanted to hold off on doing another until we figured out how and if B’s new epilepsy meds were going to affect  his fertility. I didn’t see the point in spending time, money, energy and heartache until we knew for sure something else wasn’t going on.

After taking the Clomid I had 2 regular periods. I was really excited that my body was actually starting to function in the way it was supposed to, but cautiously optimistic. I didn’t want to get my hopes up on to have my heart broken. Again.

My period was due 10th-20th of March if things were going to keep going regularly, but it never came.

I finally decided to take a pregnancy test April 7th, 2012 just to see what was going on.

Holy shit, it was positive. As were the next 6 tests I took. 

I was pregnant.

I’ve only had minor complications, right at and just after viability.

 

Getting pregnant definitely wasn’t wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am easy.  But it wasn’t failed fertility treatment after failed fertility treatment after miscarriage after miscarriage, or (so far) dealt with serious complications to me or Nugget.

For that, I feel guilty. It’s not fair that I’m pregnant and will have a baby after 2 years at 27 years old. There are TONS of women who have tried for 2, 6, 8 times longer.

I definitely don’t wish away this miracle pregnancy. I  feel guilty for feeling guilty. But I feel guilty all the same.

I just wish I could wave a magic wand and take away the heartache and financial and emotional cost of infertility and give everyone who wanted it a happy, healthy, uncomplicated pregnancy.

Infertility just sucks a big one.

 

 

Please feel free to comment but note that these are my genuine thoughts and feelings- word vomit or not. Please be kind. 

 

Focusing on the Positive

*There’s definitely some pregnancy/baby talk and a belly pic in this post.*

I’ve been feeling pretty down lately.

I still have the icks and I haven’t been released to go back to work.

The doc won’t let me go back to work until I’m non-symptomatic. I’m definitely still symptomatic. What  26 week pregnant woman has to take anti-diarrhea meds instead of stool softeners. I mean really. 

No work means I’m spending lots and lots of time at home doing a whole lot of nothing. I would love to do things, but my energy level is seriously lacking and I don’t want to potentially expose a whole lot of people to this GI invader. I can’t think of anyone I would wish this upon.  And let’s face it, I can’t stray too far from the bathroom. 

Needless to say, I’ve been feeling pretty crappy. Haha, I’m so punny. 

Today I read a post  from Courtney reminding me to be thankful. That there is always a bright side. I’ve never met Courtney, but the optimism and hope she has blows. me. away.  

I was inspired.

Despite being off work (with no PTO or vacation time) for almost a month and being cooped up in the house there is no denying there are good things going on.

Nugget is doing fabulous. He’s continuing to grow, thrive and measure ahead of schedule despite my being ill and losing 26lbs.

He’s moving, shaking and tumbling a whole heck of a lot. I can actually watch my stomach jump and pop out when I poke at it. It’s the weirdest thing ever to watch Nugget roll from one side of my stomach to the other. It’s awesome but weird.

I haven’t been able to work, but I have been able to have some coffee dates and spend some time with my Dad.  I’ve been able to get Nugget’s room painted, furniture assembled and room mostly set up with the help of Hubs and his parents. I really wish I had before and after pictures of the nursery. The previous owners must have let their kids paint the room. Speckles and splatters ALL over the ceiling and floor boards. And FYI, red takes THREE coats of primer to cover…

I haven’t been able to get comfortable or stay asleep at night (or get out of bed easily) but I haven’t had to get up at the butt crack of dawn to go to work.

And? I don’t have to put on a bra if I don’t wanna! 🙂

Sure, I’d love to go back to work and earn a paycheck, but I really don’t have all that much to complain about.

Here’s the most recent belly pic.

26 weeks 5 days

Adios, August!

I’ve not been a fan of August this year.

Of course there are my Mom’s and sister’s birthdays to celebrate as definite highlights. We won’t mention my parents’ anniversary.

 

Side note- I cannot believe my baby sister is seventeen years old. Especially since I’m just shy of 10 years older than her. Cheese and rice that makes me feel old.

The beginning of August I got sick. Like 12 straight hours of puking and abdominal pain. This was the first time I had actually thrown up during this pregnancy. Definitely wasn’t the first time I felt like puking, though. I went to the ER per the on call doctor’s advice and was admitted (For the first time in my life) for suspected appendicitis. 36 hours later and no sign of my appendix on ultrasound or MRI it was decided my appendix was not infected and I had ligament stretching.

Ligament stretching my ass. That was unlike any ligament stretching I’ve ever felt. Ligament stretching has never lasted for more than a few seconds and doesn’t hurt THAT badly! Thank you, Mr. Doctor, sir. 

I got to go home after a night in the hospital and all was well.

For 2.5 weeks when I started having…’gastrointestinal issues’ and running a fever. B headed out, with my blessing, to hang out with the softball team and give their sponsor the trophy they won. I felt like crap on a cracker and texted B asking him to come home. B said he was getting his tab and would be on his way as soon as he could.

I guess I didn’t ask him to come home soon enough. I remember going to the bathroom and walking down the hall back to the living room and starting to feel dizzy. My poor husband walked in the door to find his wife passed out on the floor. I couldn’t make myself move. I couldn’t catch my breath. Stomach cramps like nothing I’d ever felt before.

My second ER visit and hospitalization in 2.5 weeks. At least labor is going to be covered. I’ve definitely met my deductible.

Nugget and I were admitted to the ante partum unit due to severe dehydration and continued tummy troubles. Let me tell you, those nurses and doctors took excellent care of us. Fluids were encouraged and pushed brought every hour and not one person seemed pissed (haha) at having to help me to the bathroom all the time. I wasn’t allowed to go on my own in case I passed out again.  Nugget’s heartbeat was checked every 4 hours and I spent at least 30 minutes on the monitor 2 times a day. My uterus was angry that it was dehydrated and gave me a few warning contractions but no actual, labor contractions.  Thank God! 

Thankfully B and our families were extremely understanding. The bathroom was huge and extremely echo-y. NOT what someone with a musical ass wants to deal with.

Day 3 of our stay the nurse came in the room and told me there was finally a diagnosis. Campylobacter jejuni. The nurse asked if I’d been camping recently and I straight up laughed in her face. I do NOT do nature. Ew. Since I haven’t been camping, drank contaminated water or unpasteurized milk or gone swimming, I must have gotten that organism that decided to make my insides home from some kind of food, probably under cooked meat. And I haven’t eaten meat since…

Can we say EW!!!!!

Day 4 I was able to maintain fluid myself and got to go home! To my own bathroom. And shower. And bed. *Insert contented sigh here*

A week later I’m still trying to kick this invader out of my system.  Had a follow up appointment with my OB today and Nugget looks fabulous. His heart rate is right in the 150s and he’s measuring at 28 weeks despite the fact that I lost 12 lbs in the 2 weeks of the icks and am 25 weeks pregnant. 

Here’s hoping that September is a lot more low key, I spent more time at home and work and Nugget stays put for a while longer!

 

25 week bumpage

 

It’s A…

 

 

 

So I’m not very good at this sharing information in a timely matter thing.

In the last post I wrote about the upcoming ultrasound appt where we would find out the gender of  this little Nugget.

 

I don’t know if it was just the tech I had that was tease or if that’s how it’s done. The tech asked if we wanted to know the gender as soon as we walked in the room, squirted the gel on my stomach and started taking measurements. Asks again if we want to know the gender because she can see it. We again say yes.

And she continues to take measurements.

Then she shows us this.

It’s a TURTLE!

I wish someone else would have been there. I started to cry and B started fist pumping. Like Jersey Shore fist pumping.

Oy.

Now we just need to come up with and agree on a name.

Because there is absolutely no way I am naming my son Brian Jr and calling him BJ. Putting his twig and berries on the internets is cruel enough.