5 posts tagged “pregnancy loss”
I'll make this short (not really, but whatever), but basically he said that after reviewing my file (which he did while I sat there) he said that he read a case done last year with women who had abrupted badly enough to loose their babies. Of those women 10% abrupted again and lost the babies again. He said he doesn't feel comfortable telling me what my chances of having another baby die or me die, but based on that case study he said that if I did get preggers that I'd have a 10% chance that I'd abrupt at some point and baby would die. He explained that it's not just losing the baby but he said about the DIC and me getting sick again. he told me that he's only treated/seen 7 women that lived after going through DIC and I was one. So, he told me NOT to have any more, but he did say that he can't decide for us and we'll have to make the decision, but he would strongly advise against it.
Then he told me that I need to be on bp meds and so he hooked me up with a family practioner to see (no appt date set yet) to get on those and to talk to him about my migranes. He's afraid I'm having the TIAs and so he doens't know what they'd do for me.
THEN...he tells me that he thinks I have PCOS, but wants me to see an OB/gyn about it since he doesn't deal with non preggers PCOS patients. I have an appt on May 9th with the Ob/gyn to talk to him about that and possibly do an IUD or to tie my tubes.
He was an awesome doc...I really liked him and he was great with Kenna. He even said he knows what it's like to have one kid and want another but can't for some reason. he said he and his wife went through that and decided after years to just be happy with their first. He had a good head on his shoulders and even understood that wasn't wha I wanted to hear, but knew that I NEEDED to hear it. He put it really well that your heart wants it, but you have to convince your brain, sometimes hearing it 2x makes it more real. He said their infertility group is great if we want to do surogacy, but we can talk about that later again.
He told me this story of a woman he treated and had 5 stillbirths, after each he told her not to do it again, but she kept on and on. Her depression kept getting worse each time and finally she had her 6th stillborn and went home and killed herself. He said he's never forgave himself for that because he felt he could have done more to stop her from having more babies, but he said all he can do is tell us what he thinks and go with it.
If I do get preggers, he told me he'd treat me and "throw all the black magic he could at me because he'd be worried about giving someone who went through DIC an anticoagulant (heparin, lovenox)", he'd also see me every week from 19wks on and u/s every week to. But docs are afraid of abruptions and they can happen in seconds. He had a woman in the hospital for 20 wks because of previous abruptions and everything was great, then one morning all looked fine, but 1 1/2 hrs later the baby was dead due to abruption. He said there's nothing they can do to stop them, that's why docs are afraid of them.
So much for making this short huh? Basically the baby factory REALLY is closed, my BP is way high, I'm not having periods, I've gained 10 lbs in 3 months AND...I'm stroking out at the age of 28! Bascially...WHY did I go to this appt again?! LMAO!
Ok, so the more I think about it I'm just not OK with ONE person telling me to never have kids again. I've decided I will find another MFM or perinatologist and get a 2nd opinion. Now I'm wondering if I should have the bloodwork sent to the new one or have them do repeat draws. I'd also like to talk to someone about PCOS 'cause I have a feeling I have issues with that.
So, my question is would you repeat bloodwork or just have the reports sent to new doc?
We'll just go from what the "new" doc says and make decisions after that.
Time...time...what else can I say. We have to measure time by something...minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, decades, etc...but I really think we are all slaves to clocks, watches and calendars. Let me explain my thinking this way...
When we are trying to conceive a baby it's measured in days and temperature. You take your temperature every morning hoping for a little change...sometimes not even .02 of a degree...and cycle days, CD 1 is when Flo shows...ovulation day if you're lucky is CD 14...then we go to days past ovulation or DPO...the magic number of DPO's is 14...ooooh, then you can pee on a stick. If you've succeeded then YIPEEEEEE...time starts all over for you but in weeks now. "How far along are you?", "I'm 12 weeks". The people who haven't been pregnant recently will then ask, "OK, but how many MONTHS is that?” I think people forget that pregnancy is REALLY 10 months, not the 9 months that they teach you in high school health class. It's a joke really, the trick you into thinking that pregnancy is 9 months and somehow sneak an extra month in there. Then you get closer to that magical time of your due date, you get anxious and every week you go to the doctor they check you then you're hoping for 10 and 100%. You finally get to that point and then you push for 10 seconds (if you can make it that long!). Baby is out and then you care about pounds, ounces and inches for length, if you're anal like I am then you also long to hear those Apgar numbers. Take the bundle of joy home in the next day or two and then you care about ounces again...and hours; "when was the last feeding", "how much did the baby eat", "how many poopie/wet diapies did the little one have", etc. Complete strangers will then ask you, "awwww, how old is he/she?” Again, back to months, and you will count your child’s age in months until you can't think off the top of your head what 4 x 12 is to figure out that your 4 year old child is 48 months. The math becomes too hard at that point and you then finally resort to years. When they get older 1/2's and 3/4's come into play...trying to eeeeek out just a bit more time before their birthday. Then when your beloved child gets older (I'm hoping age 33 for Kenna) they too will start caring about the mundane little numbers of life.
So you see...time is very important to us. Time dulls some pain, physical and mental. A while after having a child you forget how horrible that pain really is, even with an epidural. You forget that it feels like your hoo hoo will split in half and spew forth a child from your "portal" (which is also a drink holder in my family!). My cousin so eloquently put it that "she needed to take a big shit of life". But when you hold the baby and that baby coos at you and smiles at you, you forget that hurt and you stupidly want to do it again. Time also dulls that mental pain of losing a child. You will never forget the child, you will never "get over" losing the child, but somehow it starts to hurt less. You still cry for the child, you still long for the child and you still feel empty, but it's not the hurt-so-bad-that-you-can't-breathe pain, it's not the hurt-so-bad-you-can't-see-the-light-anymore pain. It's different. It doesn't mean you don't love the child less now nor does it mean that you're ok with them being in heaven, it just means that time has lessened the pain, and that my dear friends is OK! That means you can finally look on the time you had with said child and smile. Even if you lost the child during pregnancy or when she was a high-schooler, you can remember the little things about them and smile and laugh.
Even though we are ruled by time, I guess it is still my friend.
Ok, so I have a friend who just cracks me up...we'll call her Yvette (LOL)...ya know since that's her name and all. She's a hoot...one of those friends who you call when you need a laugh, when you are in the hospital with gallstones and need a sitter, or just need a weekend away with the girls. She's my little firecracker...redheaded and all. She’s got three gorgeous kids and a very tall husband. But for some reason, she seems amazed by ME…me…why me…
Every time, or just about damn near, we talk or email there’s always a reference to me being the “woman of steel”…and it’s not ‘cause my rock hard ass either. To be quite honest it bothered me at the beginning. I’m so not made of steel, if I were my pregnancy issues would just bounce off of me with a cute little “ting” sound, I’d need an oil can instead of a Smirnoff Triple Black to get me “lubed-up” and come on…I’m not really a silver fan, more of a gold and diamonds girl. But I knew what she meant, she thinks of me as a strong person able to handle any and everything thrown at me. And I finally realized that in some ways, she may be a little right.
Now, before you think I’m sitting here tootin’ my own horn of steel, let me tell you that I’m not that strong. I’ve thought about many unpleasant things…some that would probably scare the be-Jesus out of my family, but it was that same friends and family who would be scared to know this who pulled me out of that. I have horrible days, days of the pity party, days of the wanting to be in bed crying, days of watching “A Baby Story” on TLC crying, days of google’ing, days of reading pregnancy and loss blogs/message boards crying…do you see a pattern?
Even with these crappy days I know I have to be here for Kenna and that I’m here for a reason. God is not punishing me for sneaking out of my house in Jr. High with Jennifer, God is not punishing me for cussing like a sailor; in no way shape or form is he punishing me. It’s actually a blessing because I know there is a Heaven now, I know that I have angels looking out for us and I know that I’m here for our daughter so she knows these things too. How many times have I heard the whole “what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger” and my favorite “God only gives us what we can handle”. I agree with those, completely. I still have my moments, my crappy days and I think I’m allowed to have those on occasion. I am not the strongest, I’m not the only “woman of steel”, I’m not the ONLY woman who has lost babies/children before, and there are millions of us out here.
I would not be the steel-y person I am today without my family and friends helping me along. I’m pretty sure I’d be tucked away nicely in a pretty off-white padded room. You are only as strong as the people you acquaint yourself with, that, my dear friends/family, says a lot about you too. So, thank you. I may actually be a woman of steel, but that is only because of my support system of steel. Love to you all!
Well, I figured I had better let y'all in on us...why we're here, who we are and just a little background for you. I guess it's best to start from the beginning huh, so here it goes.
We were married in May of 2000. Two weeks before we got married we found out we were already expecting. I was excited, no one knew except for me, Sean and my sister. Just a few days later we lost our baby. I was clueless, I had never been pregnant, never lost a baby and wasn't sure what to do. We just went on like usual, and still no one knew. After our honeymoon I was ready to be a mom. Soon after we got pregnant again, on Labor Day weekend actually! Everything was going along just fine and dandy then one day I just didn't feel "right". We went to the doctor and were told some of the worst news no one should hear. Our daughter, Avery, was gone. I was 26 wks pregnant. After more testing to make sure and a horribly long induction, our little 1 lb baby was born. Although tiny, she was perfect.
We got pregnant soon after again and had another semi-easy pregnancy. Well, the pregnancy was ok; it was my mental state that sucked. I was a nervous wreck...checking the toilet paper in the early stages of pregnancy, begging the baby later on to "just kick again, please", and then counting the minutes between contractions...way too soon. Our next daughter, Kenna, wanted out a little too early, at 30 weeks to be exact. So, I was put on bed rest and terbutaline for 8 weeks or so. I had weekly NST's and doctor's appointments, it was not fun, but it was necessary. Then I had to be induced, the irony of it, and Kenna came out just fine, sort of. My placenta looked like hell, Kenna wasn't breathing all that great but she was alive and screaming.
Our next baby, a son named Jackson, was a surprise. I was nervous from the beginning and nothing ever felt "right" about that pregnancy. I spotted from early on, was put on bed rest for a few days here and there for the bleeding, itched like crazy and didn't feel like everything was ok. You know, a mother's intuition...something just wasn't right. I woke up on August 16th sick, hurting like you can't imagine, I couldn't stand I was dizzy, throwing up and couldn't even really keep a coherent thought in my head. I was 26 wks again, D-day for us. It took us over an hour to get to the hospital since we lived in the middle of nowhere. By the time we got there I had been passing out in the car and didn't know it. As I was getting my vitals done I was throwing up again and thought my water had broken or I pee'd the bed (we're being honest here!). Little did I know that it wasn't amniotic fluid or urine, it was blood and a ton of it. My blood pressure crashed and the doc finally came in. Now this is where I add some more info about my doctor. This blog is not to bash him, diss him or slander the guy so I'll refrain from telling you his name, but he screwed up and BIG TIME! He was the one who delivered Kenna so I think he thought all was well, but he pretty much ignored me this entire pregnancy. He came in a long while after I had been at the hospital, he even knew I was coming; I had called him before we left our house. He finally realized how bad of shape I was in and finally did something about it. I had to have a central line put in, given too many pints of blood to count and eventually after 8-ish hours I went into an "emergency" c-section. Our son was gone; he was gone before we got to the hospital. Another baby gone, another 26 wk stillborn. I don't remember too much of that day since I was in and out of it, but I do remember telling the nurse before we knew for sure that Jackson was gone that "we'd already lost one baby, please don't say that we lost another". I was in ICU for a few days, the day after was when I woke up with the ventilator down my throat still asking the nurse what happened (writing it actually). She told me that the baby was gone, which I remembered already, told me I had a c-section, I remembered that too, told me I still had my uterus, which I was thankful for and told me that I went into DIC, which I won't spell out. After shift-change, the vent coming out and my oh so demeaning sponge bath, I asked my new nurse what really happened. He said something that I will never forget, "DIC...wow, we don't see many of you up here, most of y'all end up in the morgue."
While in the hospital I told Sean that I can't do this again, I couldn't be in the hospital going home with no baby again, I almost died...but the desire for more babies is apparently too much. We got pregnant again just this past month and three days later I woke up to another miscarriage. But, there is good news...
I finally have a new ob/gyn and a specialist who are in the process of doing tons of blood work. So, there's a brief, if you can call it that, history of us. This blog is about what the docs find out, how we will treat it and hopefully you can join us through a scary, nerve-wracking yet healthy pregnancy.
Thanks for reading!
