Clueless Ann: I should probably write another blog post. But what should I write about? My maternity clothes shopping expedition with my mom on Friday was fun, but hardly interesting for anyone other than the two of us. What to write about, what to write about…
Wry Ann: Well, you could write about your emergency room visit on Saturday.
Clueless Ann: Oh. Oh yeah…
I was feeling pretty darned proud of myself. Thirteen weeks, and no problems in sight! Saturday morning dawned and I stumbled to the bathroom for a pee break. Right before I pressed flush, I noticed there was something…solid-looking…in the toilet, and it definitely wasn’t poo. Before my brain had a chance to register that I had passed Something, I had flushed and the evidence was gone. Oh well, I thought—I’m still tired and I’ll think about it when I wake up.
I woke up, played with the dog for a while then went to the bathroom for a shower. I took my underwear off and saw it was filled with brownish-red discharge. Alarms blared in my head. I called M in, frantically asking him to examine the discharge to see if he would call it “red.”
I’ve had spotting before, but never that much. Not nearly that much. That, coupled with the “something” I had passed a few hours ago, was enough to send me into a frenzy.
We decided to go to the ER because, as M said to me, “from the look on your face, we need some reassurance.”
Long story short, everything’s fine. It was weird, because I knew the ER doctor (he’s one of the docs I’ve worked with on media stories). He was very, very nice, and proclaimed my problem a subchorionic hemorrhage. Heartbeat is fine, and the baby was even moving a little on the ultrasound.
Now I sheepishly sit here, wondering, Was that really necessary? Am I still a nervous wreck about this pregnancy? Would most people have just waited it out? Am I foolishly wasting medical equipment and time? When I get the bill for the ER visit, will I be able to write out the check without berating myself for worrying over nothing?
Monday, March 31, 2008
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
12w6d **UPDATE BELOW**
Yesterday was Zach’s estimated due date. I didn’t post because, frankly, the date didn’t mean nearly as much to me as I thought it would. I seem to have “let go” of what was supposed to be. I can’t imagine being on maternity leave right now; waiting at nine months pregnant; being in labor; having my new baby in my arms. That life isn’t mine anymore. And so the only thing I did yesterday to mark the date was to go through the dozens of sympathy cards stowed away in Zach’s memory box.
No, my thoughts are more focused on the future. I can’t seem to find peace in these couple of weeks left before the kidney scan. People who know about the pregnancy smile sympathetically and say, Well of course you’re nervous, because you’ve already lost a baby in the second trimester. Actually, it’s more than that—my baby has a statistically higher chance of being diagnosed with bilateral renal agenesis than other people’s babies. I have broken down on a promise I made to myself and am working to get M in for an abdominal scan before our ultrasound. I want to know for sure how many kidneys he has. Because if he only has one, there is a 15 percent chance of recurrence. No, I can’t do anything about it now, but I want to go into that scan with a good idea of my chances for tragedy.
Even if M does have two kidneys, we still have a 1 to 3 percent chance of recurrence. Those odds are still not very comforting to me.
I had my 12-week appointment a couple of days ago. It’s very strange not to be comforted by the sound of the heartbeat. Well, yes, but what’s going on inside the baby? I find myself grasping at straws. The heartbeat was in the 150s, and that could mean the baby is a girl, and girls have a smaller chance of having bilateral renal agenesis.
It has occurred to me that even if this baby is healthy, I will still have all the same worries in a future pregnancy. Because what’s to say that a random genetic mutation won’t skip a gestation and show up in the next child?
I’m trying to remain distant from this pregnancy, referring to it as a “medical condition.” But how can I keep from getting excited when every week, ever so slowly, my belly is starting to expand?
UPDATE: M called me at work this morning with this greeting: "Well, it would appear that I have a left kidney.....and a right kidney." Jerk. He made my heart drop with the first part of his sentence. :)
So no unilateral renal agenesis in our family. Our risk of recurrence is 1 to 3 percent, not 15.
No, my thoughts are more focused on the future. I can’t seem to find peace in these couple of weeks left before the kidney scan. People who know about the pregnancy smile sympathetically and say, Well of course you’re nervous, because you’ve already lost a baby in the second trimester. Actually, it’s more than that—my baby has a statistically higher chance of being diagnosed with bilateral renal agenesis than other people’s babies. I have broken down on a promise I made to myself and am working to get M in for an abdominal scan before our ultrasound. I want to know for sure how many kidneys he has. Because if he only has one, there is a 15 percent chance of recurrence. No, I can’t do anything about it now, but I want to go into that scan with a good idea of my chances for tragedy.
Even if M does have two kidneys, we still have a 1 to 3 percent chance of recurrence. Those odds are still not very comforting to me.
I had my 12-week appointment a couple of days ago. It’s very strange not to be comforted by the sound of the heartbeat. Well, yes, but what’s going on inside the baby? I find myself grasping at straws. The heartbeat was in the 150s, and that could mean the baby is a girl, and girls have a smaller chance of having bilateral renal agenesis.
It has occurred to me that even if this baby is healthy, I will still have all the same worries in a future pregnancy. Because what’s to say that a random genetic mutation won’t skip a gestation and show up in the next child?
I’m trying to remain distant from this pregnancy, referring to it as a “medical condition.” But how can I keep from getting excited when every week, ever so slowly, my belly is starting to expand?
UPDATE: M called me at work this morning with this greeting: "Well, it would appear that I have a left kidney.....and a right kidney." Jerk. He made my heart drop with the first part of his sentence. :)
So no unilateral renal agenesis in our family. Our risk of recurrence is 1 to 3 percent, not 15.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Reaching out
Myturn, I really would like to communicate with you via e-mail (since you don't have a blog or contact info set up). My e-mail address is b ear nes t at wi dot rr dot com (without spaces, of course).
Monday, March 24, 2008
Freedom of speech
It seems that one of my favorite bloggers, Alexa, has become the target of a rather vicious online forum. To summarize: Alexa’s premature daughter Simone has been fighting for her life in the NICU. Through URL referrals to her blog, Alexa discovered that a childfree-by-choice online forum has been discussing how inhumane it is for her to keep the baby alive. Some of the posters on that site have called Alexa and Simone names and said some rather mean things.
If you would like to support Alexa, please go over to her blog and do so. My purpose in posting this information is to ignite a discussion on freedom of speech—not to start a debate on child-free living vs. child-wanting living vs. parenting.
On the Internet, there is a site/forum for just about any opinion under the sun. If you want to vent about x, y or z, there’s a place for you to do so. The First Amendment guarantees that we can say whatever we want, whenever we want. But should we?
It is easy for me, a woman who desperately wants to be a mother, to say that it is cruel to insult a new mom and her sick baby on a public forum. But then I think about some of the IF forums and sites I have frequented that insult “Mommy bloggers” and parenting forums out of jealousy. What makes them any more sanctimonious?
For that matter, I have vented about specific people in my life on this very blog. I can’t remember right now just how acidic some of the venting has become (mental note: read my own archives), but I can guarantee you I have regularly read some bloggers who often do post mean things about the people in their lives. I forgive them for anything that might rub me the wrong way because I agree and sympathize with their point of view. We all take great pains to make sure those people don’t ever find our blogs, but does that make it right?
None of the members of this online forum ever posted nasty comments on Alexa’s blog. Rather, they carelessly posted the link to her blog on their forum, probably not considering that she might check her stats occasionally.
Was it right for them to say what they were saying when they thought the only people reading their forum were those of like mind?
I ask you, again, that you try to keep the particular subject out of consideration in your answers to these questions. I want to debate the general subject, not the specific grievance.
If you would like to support Alexa, please go over to her blog and do so. My purpose in posting this information is to ignite a discussion on freedom of speech—not to start a debate on child-free living vs. child-wanting living vs. parenting.
On the Internet, there is a site/forum for just about any opinion under the sun. If you want to vent about x, y or z, there’s a place for you to do so. The First Amendment guarantees that we can say whatever we want, whenever we want. But should we?
It is easy for me, a woman who desperately wants to be a mother, to say that it is cruel to insult a new mom and her sick baby on a public forum. But then I think about some of the IF forums and sites I have frequented that insult “Mommy bloggers” and parenting forums out of jealousy. What makes them any more sanctimonious?
For that matter, I have vented about specific people in my life on this very blog. I can’t remember right now just how acidic some of the venting has become (mental note: read my own archives), but I can guarantee you I have regularly read some bloggers who often do post mean things about the people in their lives. I forgive them for anything that might rub me the wrong way because I agree and sympathize with their point of view. We all take great pains to make sure those people don’t ever find our blogs, but does that make it right?
None of the members of this online forum ever posted nasty comments on Alexa’s blog. Rather, they carelessly posted the link to her blog on their forum, probably not considering that she might check her stats occasionally.
Was it right for them to say what they were saying when they thought the only people reading their forum were those of like mind?
I ask you, again, that you try to keep the particular subject out of consideration in your answers to these questions. I want to debate the general subject, not the specific grievance.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
More SIL drama
I had been psyching myself up to attend my new nephew’s baptism, which I knew would be sometime in the next couple of months. It would be hard, I told myself, but I would regret it if I skipped this event.
On the other hand, I had pretty much come to the conclusion that I wanted to be by myself (with M) on Mother’s Day. I just couldn’t stand being around my SIL and her kids.
M just found out yesterday that his sister wants to schedule the baptism for Mother’s Day. Apparently, they were trying to work around Tax Day (SIL’s husband is an accountant) and our vacation to the UK in late April, so they arrived on the May 11 date.
I simply cannot handle this. I know how churches are on Mother’s Day—pastors usually base their sermons around the theme. I am supposed to lead a children’s handbell choir at our church that morning, but I feel safe in our church. Many of the people—including the pastors—know what happened to us and I know everyone will be extra sensitive.
But being around M’s happy family during this happy time, on Mother’s Day, is too much for me. There is no decision to make—if they decide to keep the baptism on May 11, I will not be there.
M gets the fun job of telling his sister that. He spoke to his mother last night, who understands our position but said that SIL is pretty hormonal right now. Add that to her ordinary bitchiness and you get a nightmare. So M and I discussed gentle ways we could give her this news.
I suppose the worst thing that could happen is that she could forever hold this against me. Oh well.
On the other hand, I had pretty much come to the conclusion that I wanted to be by myself (with M) on Mother’s Day. I just couldn’t stand being around my SIL and her kids.
M just found out yesterday that his sister wants to schedule the baptism for Mother’s Day. Apparently, they were trying to work around Tax Day (SIL’s husband is an accountant) and our vacation to the UK in late April, so they arrived on the May 11 date.
I simply cannot handle this. I know how churches are on Mother’s Day—pastors usually base their sermons around the theme. I am supposed to lead a children’s handbell choir at our church that morning, but I feel safe in our church. Many of the people—including the pastors—know what happened to us and I know everyone will be extra sensitive.
But being around M’s happy family during this happy time, on Mother’s Day, is too much for me. There is no decision to make—if they decide to keep the baptism on May 11, I will not be there.
M gets the fun job of telling his sister that. He spoke to his mother last night, who understands our position but said that SIL is pretty hormonal right now. Add that to her ordinary bitchiness and you get a nightmare. So M and I discussed gentle ways we could give her this news.
I suppose the worst thing that could happen is that she could forever hold this against me. Oh well.
Monday, March 17, 2008
More loss (not mine)
I found out last week that my friend AW was pregnant. I viewed it as a sign of progress that I was excited for her, rather than upset. I shared my news with her, as well, and we gabbed about the symptoms of early pregnancy.
There was a problem, however: Her dates were way off. Her OB practice brings patients in at 7 weeks as a matter of course (!), but when she came in they couldn’t find a heartbeat. The baby was measuring behind. They proceeded to bring her in for a couple of ultrasounds a week (!) until they found a heartbeat. I'm sure they figured she had just ovulated late. By the time she told me her news, she was comfortable with how things were progressing. Yet I spent the week puzzling over how very far behind in dates she was.
It turns out I was right to be concerned. At her ultrasound last Saturday morning she found out the baby’s heart rate had gone down. Her doctor told her to prepare for the worst. That afternoon she experienced a small amount of bleeding, yet we still went ahead with plans to get together that night. Over the course of our evening together, we both believe she was in the process of having a miscarriage. She was probably between 6 and 7 weeks pregnant, even though she got her BFP about a month and a half ago.
This was my first time experiencing a loss IRL that wasn’t mine. I had heard about a few friends’ miscarriages, but only well after the fact. This was a surreal experience. As all of you well know, I’m not exactly in a great place about my own loss yet, so I can’t exactly become a wise comforter to another who is experiencing loss. But I can offer empathy. Oh, yes, there was loads and loads of empathy over the course of our evening. Actually, she ended up offering some comforting words to me as I talked about my feelings following our loss. (You see, this was the first time she and I had gotten together without our husbands since well before we lost Zach. We live two hours away from each other.)
She was feeling bad about what was happening but she wasn’t in what I would call “bad shape.” In a way, even though I too have experienced a loss, I wasn’t sure how to relate to her. I am still deeply affected by our loss, but then again I had had the chance to feel our baby kick, give birth to him and hold him in my arms.
After that experience, I have come to the conclusion that crappy things do happen in this world, and not just to us. How’s that for a philosophy?
There was a problem, however: Her dates were way off. Her OB practice brings patients in at 7 weeks as a matter of course (!), but when she came in they couldn’t find a heartbeat. The baby was measuring behind. They proceeded to bring her in for a couple of ultrasounds a week (!) until they found a heartbeat. I'm sure they figured she had just ovulated late. By the time she told me her news, she was comfortable with how things were progressing. Yet I spent the week puzzling over how very far behind in dates she was.
It turns out I was right to be concerned. At her ultrasound last Saturday morning she found out the baby’s heart rate had gone down. Her doctor told her to prepare for the worst. That afternoon she experienced a small amount of bleeding, yet we still went ahead with plans to get together that night. Over the course of our evening together, we both believe she was in the process of having a miscarriage. She was probably between 6 and 7 weeks pregnant, even though she got her BFP about a month and a half ago.
This was my first time experiencing a loss IRL that wasn’t mine. I had heard about a few friends’ miscarriages, but only well after the fact. This was a surreal experience. As all of you well know, I’m not exactly in a great place about my own loss yet, so I can’t exactly become a wise comforter to another who is experiencing loss. But I can offer empathy. Oh, yes, there was loads and loads of empathy over the course of our evening. Actually, she ended up offering some comforting words to me as I talked about my feelings following our loss. (You see, this was the first time she and I had gotten together without our husbands since well before we lost Zach. We live two hours away from each other.)
She was feeling bad about what was happening but she wasn’t in what I would call “bad shape.” In a way, even though I too have experienced a loss, I wasn’t sure how to relate to her. I am still deeply affected by our loss, but then again I had had the chance to feel our baby kick, give birth to him and hold him in my arms.
After that experience, I have come to the conclusion that crappy things do happen in this world, and not just to us. How’s that for a philosophy?
Thursday, March 13, 2008
April 11 UPDATE BELOW
I have my first abdominal scan on the calendar. On Friday, April 11 at 8 a.m. I will find out if my second child has kidneys and a bladder. Oh, and a whole bunch of other stuff I can’t even think about right now. (For those keeping track, I will be 15 weeks; my big scan will come later, but obviously this one is very, very important to me.)
This time around it will be very different. Instead of sitting in a dark room with a tech who is technically not supposed to tell me anything, I will be examined by a highly paid perinatologist whom I hand-picked (he was the doc who confirmed our diagnosis last time and likes to talk; I think I’ll call him Dr. Knows-a-Lot). Also in the room will be M (thank God) and Nurse Kind, whom I work with and know very well. It will be a bright, supportive atmosphere. It’s hard for me to imagine that anything can go wrong when I have so painstakingly put all the right pieces in place.
And yet, it just occurred to me that if we get a bad diagnosis, it will be very very bad. Because the following week, we’re supposed to leave for London for a 9-day vacation. How can we go on vacation after receiving horrific news? And yet, how can we not? I realized that I’ve sort of been assuming that all will go well. Because if it doesn’t, I honestly don’t know what I’ll do. I don’t know how I’ll handle our
nightmare repeated.
***
UPDATE: I should have probably mentioned that although Dr. Knows-a-Lot (he sounds like a Care Bear, doesn't he?) said he didn't believe we have an increased risk for bilateral renal agenesis, repeat cases have been known to happen. I just hope we're not one of those random couples who have something weird in our DNA that causes this, and it really was just a fluke.
This time around it will be very different. Instead of sitting in a dark room with a tech who is technically not supposed to tell me anything, I will be examined by a highly paid perinatologist whom I hand-picked (he was the doc who confirmed our diagnosis last time and likes to talk; I think I’ll call him Dr. Knows-a-Lot). Also in the room will be M (thank God) and Nurse Kind, whom I work with and know very well. It will be a bright, supportive atmosphere. It’s hard for me to imagine that anything can go wrong when I have so painstakingly put all the right pieces in place.
And yet, it just occurred to me that if we get a bad diagnosis, it will be very very bad. Because the following week, we’re supposed to leave for London for a 9-day vacation. How can we go on vacation after receiving horrific news? And yet, how can we not? I realized that I’ve sort of been assuming that all will go well. Because if it doesn’t, I honestly don’t know what I’ll do. I don’t know how I’ll handle our
nightmare repeated.
***
UPDATE: I should have probably mentioned that although Dr. Knows-a-Lot (he sounds like a Care Bear, doesn't he?) said he didn't believe we have an increased risk for bilateral renal agenesis, repeat cases have been known to happen. I just hope we're not one of those random couples who have something weird in our DNA that causes this, and it really was just a fluke.
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