The Duchess

Absurd

I hit publish on Monday and breathed a huge sigh of relief to put that story out there, to have people help carry a little of the fear and doubt.

Then I went to dinner on Tuesday we were meeting my SIL and BIL (they are my husband's stepmother's son and wife...but we like them so much we would choose them for family) and their two kids. I had been looking forward to the outing all day and was fully unprepared for the news they would deliver.

A good family friend (and my SIL's best friend) found out on Monday that her baby had passed away, her and I have been trading notes on and off throughout our pregnancies as she is only a week behind me. She felt decreased movement on Sunday and when she went in on Monday the baby had already died. After a very long a difficult induction she gave birth to a beautiful baby boy this morning.

For obvious reasons I am physically staying far away from the family but I was able to help set up Now I Lay me Down to Sleep and after talking to the wonderful JDEGirl I was able to pass on sound advice that helped my SIL feel more prepared for today's events and the events that are to come in the following weeks.

I feel horrible that they have to go through this, I feel sick that it came on the heels of me telling her my story and I feel guilty that my baby is okay and hers is not. Her story is not mine to tell and the only reason I am writing about it is that when it came time to set up the crib on Wednesday night I found myself almost shouting NO at Duke. That and the nightmares I have had the last two nights and the panic attack I had at dinner tell me how affected I really am, so I am doing the only thing I know to do and that is turn to you to help me shoulder some of the fear, guilt and sadness.

I thought I needed distance

I had thought I would take a week and let a little of the fear subside that was at 27 weeks and tomorrow I will be 33w. Every time I try and sit down to write this I think to myself what is the point, the outcome was good, why dwell? Oh and how I do dwell in the dark hours when my stomach is silent and feels almost vacant.

I went to work as normal on week 27 day 3 and felt just awful, but then again what else is new when I am pregnant, the difference being that my legs were round swollen tree trunks and my head was stuck in a vice. I could hardly concentrate on anything going on because my head hurt so badly but I remember thinking when was the last time this baby moved? After I dragged my ass home and to bed nothing improved and by morning I realized it had been almost 12 hours since she had kicked, rolled, danced...moved. I called the doctor (around 9 in the morning) knowing they would send me for an NST, I had the same problem with S. and to be honest I figured I would go in they would roll their eyes and I would be on my way in an 45 minutes an hour tops.

If your new here (thanks twitter) you may not know but I had NSTs for the last 10 weeks of my pregnancy first do to lack of fetal movement and then for possible PIH, this is good and bad; good in that I know almost every nurse in L&D, bad that I know when things are going downhill (or maybe that comes for being on the IF block) It started off as always with awesome nurse S. (a 20yr vet of L&D) coming in and getting the info and getting the monitor up and running and then she couldn't get the baby on the monitor.

It was silent in my stomach, sure a bowel tone here and maybe one there but it just sounded vacant, she tried for almost 10 minutes straight moving me this way that way, at this point I was calm, babies hide, 27 weekers are not always predictable on monitors I was running every story, fact, tale over and over in my head. After 12 minutes (yes I was keeping track what the hell else should I have done) she said she was going to call for ultrasound and I saw it. It was brief and just a flicker but it was pure fear on her face and then it was gone. Enter awesome nurse D. (30yr vet of L&D) and the doppler, I immediately relaxed, doppler would find the heartbeat faster than ultrasound could get off their ass and roll down the hall. D. and I were chatting as she got the goop out to put on my stomach, she had been my nurse the day I was put on modified rest during my last pregnancy so we had spent some time together, we chatted about the holidays and she fired up the dop (as I like to call it) and nothing.

Nothing.

S. came back in to say U/S was on their way and then they exchanged a look I will never forget and S. stopped mid-sentence and left the room. D. tried for 11 minutes with the doppler. 660 seconds and by second 480 when she asked if there was someone she could call to be with me I lost my shit.

It was doing the silent ugly cry where you are trying to hold it in and your whole body turns red and according to D. if I didn't start breathing I was going to be in trouble, my own heart rate was in the 180's as though if I could just make mine beat harder hers would be found.

The next thing I knew my doctor (Doc Bowtie) was in the room and seconds later the u/s machine showed up, I was trying to calm down telling myself there was nothing I could do falling apart at this moment wasn't going to change the outcome. There was nothing I could do, I must have repeated that a hundred times over in my head.

DocBowtie found her but could not locate the heartbeat, she was turned all weird D. and S. were holding hands, it was another seven or so minutes before he was able to (thanks old u/s machine may you be taken outside and put down office space style) actually see the heartbeat and at one point he actually yelled at me to look the arm was moving, couldn't I see the arm moving, he was holding still did I see it now? then he turned to S. and said get me the high res. machine NOW.

It ended well, she is fine, I am fine, S. cried but I have no doubt that she too will be okay and D. asked if she could spank the baby when she is born. I spent the next eight hours being monitored, most of it with S. holding the monitor in place because this baby would just not cooperate with anyone. I had a bio-feedback done and it was perfect, I was evaluated by Doc No-Personality (mat.fetal spec.) and after all that I was sent home, changed but fine. I pray those are the longest 30 minutes I ever feel; I know there are no guarantees. I had been skeptical and at arms distance this whole pregnancy until that day. It was only then I understood that no matter how hard I tried to be logical about everything my heart was in deep.

I could want all the distance in the world but there is no space in parenting and that is more than fine with me. 

Purple Roses

It happened at Costco. I was just trying to waddle through the crowds and there in the flower section was bouquet after bouquet of purple roses, they were your favorite. I stopped and stared for a moment and let my mind wander. What would it be like if you were still here? Would I have to decided between you and mom for the holidays? Would you spoil S.? Would you think me irresponsible for having a second baby so soon? Would you be proud? Would you notice the purple roses in a small vase in your guest room?

It has been 18 years since our last Christmas morning together and I miss you more this year than any other.

To clarify again:

I used the wrong terms in my last post, what I suffered from was really more of a postpartum anxiety than depression. I have had anxiety for many years and the characteristics I displayed after the birth of my first child fell more into that of anxiety. Postpartum anxiety is the lesser known cousin to PPD, I was so tired of trying to explain to my family and friends what was wrong with me (anxiety? huh? isn't it just depression women suffer from post birth? NO) that I just let them think it was mild PPD when really it was raging anxiety. I am sorry I was not clear about this in my first post or even in the update that followed. I have anxiety, not depression, I am not on medication, I did take medication when I was 18 after I was attacked for PTSD. I have a great team of doctors, friends and family who are here for me. I am not a doctor, please consult your physician.

Also please quit sending me mean email, this is exactly why I said nothing for over a year and why other women suffer in silence, if you want to disagree with me then fine but do so in the comments don't be a coward and hide behind email. I am not advocating or putting down medication I am simply telling the story of my life.

Silly Girl *Updated*

"This is the biggest thing you are going to do for awhile"

Famous last words spoken to me by my doctor at my six week post-partum appointment, I was sitting there crying telling him I must have made a huge mistake, I am so not cut out for this new "lifestyle" which by the way is crap at that point there was no life let alone one with style.

I wanted a baby so badly, more than I wanted anything it was a craving that ran so deep and it only increased with every passing negative cycle or loss. The more the universe seemed to resist the more I shoved right back demanding to have it my way. When I finally won and had my positive beta I thought to myself, ahhhh the hard part is over.

Silly girl.

I had a very long and rough pregnancy with S. filled with the highest of highs and lowest of lows I kept telling myself I just had to make it through one more week and then the next week I would tell myself one more, I could do it I had to do it because in my heart of hearts I knew all I had to do was cross the finish line, as soon as that placenta was out of me the pregnancy was over and I could relax, the hard part would be over.

Silly girl.

I hadn't worried to much about post-partum depression, which seems downright foolish to me given the fact that I have like six of the five (yes you are reading that correctly, I believe that neurotic should be on the list as well) warning signs. My second night in the hospital was so bad I had to be mildly sedated; I was beside myself with panic and fear. Every time my eyes would shut I would have these horrific dreams that they took my baby and my husband had left and I was all alone in the same place where I had been alone one year and fifty weeks earlier. I called my mother hysterical beginning her to come telling her I hated her for not being there, how could she choose C. over me (a side note: my sister was undergoing experimental chemo at the time my mother had used the last of her vacation to be with her during her treatment, something I had told everyone I was fine with because I had really thought I would be fine with it, also we discovered that I cannot take the drug perc*et as it cause these horrible nightmare hallucinations) she promised me she would get in the car first thing in the morning and drive here, she would be here. Even as she said it I knew it was a lie to calm me down I knew she wouldn't be able to be there but I didn't care it was what I needed to hear and so it was said.

I cried everyday for the first two weeks, I was moody and irrational and I wanted to send back this beautiful baby, this baby I would have sold my soul to have, I wanted my old life back. I told my doctor these things and before I had finished he stopped me and said it wasn't my fault this is chemistry not the baby or Duke or myself that I really had no control over it. He wrote me a scrip and told me that I would have to stay on the drugs until spring. I was relieved anything to stop this feeling I was having, anything so that I could look at my daughter and not feel guilt and remorse. I took the first pill and figured that was that it was up to the pills and my brain to sort out this battle and all I could do was sit back and wait. Apparently I am one of the lucky people in this world who become manic on a certain set of anti-depressants, these pills made me so high so fast it was frightening - for everyone. I immediately quit taking them (under the advice of my doctor) the other drug option for me would have impacted my ability to breastfeed (which is a whole other post/topic/beast) so I chose to wait another two weeks until my post-op appointment. I was very closely monitored during this time between Duke and my doctor and my family. By six weeks I still felt on edge all the time but I had begun to at least miss S. when I was away from her, I felt less resentment at my life being so obliterated; don't get me wrong I was still overwhelmed and distracted and quiet crazy but I at least felt like I was going to make it somehow. This went on for the next five months and it wasn't really until I quit nursing (another story another time) that I felt a tiny part of myself even out and come back to life. It wasn't until nine months after giving birth that I started to feel true joy at the tiny moments, I appreciated them but the joy wasn't there. I have embraced all of these moments but now I do so with such overwhelming joy and gratitude that I find I have tears for a different reason.

I was quiet for so many months on this blog space, how do you say that the one thing you wanted more than anything you wanted to send back. This wasn't a sweater this was a human, my tiny beautiful daughter that I would do anything for; then and now. I was embarrassed and could never find the right words, even now they don't feel adequate to fully described how it was. I am choosing now to write about this because having S. was supposed to be the biggest thing I would do for a long while and as we all know this isn't the case, I am doing another big thing in 14 weeks and I am scared this time.

I have hope that it will be different, not as scary as the first time, but I have real and true fear that it will be the same only worse because I will now have S and this new baby. The difference is that I won't be quiet about it this time; I won't sweep it under the rug and pretend all is well. I will take the time to heal and if nothing else I will lean on you, my Internet family, because whether you have crossed the bridge from infertile hell or you are still stuck on the island we all know what that fear feels like and we all know it becomes a little less when we have each other.

Goodbye Silly Girl.

*Updated*

I just want to clarify that I did not/am not taking drugs for the post partum troubles I suffered, this in no way shape or form to imply that pharmaceuticals are not helpful to some people, they were not an option for me in my case. I repeat drugs rock but only if they help you and in my case there was more harm then good. As always I am not a doctor I just play one for my family on google please consult your physician before making any decision about your health or medications you may be on. I am not advocating in any way that people should just "tough it out" when it comes to PPD or even the baby blues as stated on my about page this is my story and mine alone, I'm selfish that way.

 

A Sea of Green

All is alive and well here.

I am 14w 3d and still am puking my brains out. I am on 8mg of Z*fran every six hours around the clock and I am having moments of over the moon excitement not only about the baby but about the fact that I will never have to be pregnant again. Julia wrote a very nice post about me a few weeks ago in which she talked about how stories like mine in general make people like me want to tear my hair out, if I had a dollar for every time I was told to relax, just adopt or relax some more I would be zany rich. Hell if I had a dollar for every person who has said, "See you just needed to relax this time" I could buy ammunition to take them out.

Your comments and emails have buoyed me over the last month and a half. You have made this easier to deal with and you have put my fears at ease. This pregnancy is very different from my one with S. less complications better overall placement and size, HR in the 160's, great results from the quad screen, less weight loss (which is a miracle considering I am still tossing my cookies 3-4 times a day- on the Z*fran).

I find this so surreal still, there is a small person the size of my fist growing and changing inside me everyday, a small person who has already defied every odd every doctor I have ever seen has set, a small person who is going to come careening into our lives and enrich them beyond our wildest dreams.

At 14 weeks things are sailing along, sure I am still seasick but my legs finally seem to be back under me.

The memory never goes away.

Two weeks ago Duke and I went on a double date with a sweet couple we met about a year ago. In that year they have become good friends of ours, close friends but not the type where you have exchanged full life stories, when we met I was 22wks pregnant and H. was about 14wks along. H. and M. had decided to "try" for a baby and fell pregnant that very first month. So different from Duke's and my story that I never really felt compelled to share the road that brought me to that 22nd week.

Sometimes I forget that people don't know my story. Sometimes I minimize those three long years and the loss in my mind, I speak of them in a clinical way using medical terms and little emotion because honestly if I let the emotion come through; the hurt, the pain the gratitude, I think it would be very off-putting and a bit overwhelming.

As we were leaving the movie we were all looking at a movie poster for Burno and the tag line was 'Borat was so 2006'  As the three of them started dropping lines from the movie I couldn't think of anything to add, noticing I was quiet H. asked if I had seen the movie. I told her I had seen part of it but I had fallen asleep in the movie theater, it was out of my mouth before I could stop it. Of course she asked why and I was honest when I told her I was pregnant and sick and exhausted even though I didn't know why I felt that way at that time. H. kind of cocked her head to the side and was all, "but you just had...oh" and there it was that awkward moment where I insert a joke and try to make the other person forget that they had just stumbled onto my emotional landmine.

I can call it an ectopic instead of a baby it tends to affect people less but the only difference between those two words for me was the four inches that embryo failed to travel. For six weeks I was pregnant even though I didn't know it, I had the symptoms but thought they were all stress related, for two hours after getting the positive blood test I was on cloud nine and in a 90 minute ultrasound all of that was ended.

On the car ride home from our double date I allowed my mind to wonder back to that place to those memories, the ones that never go away.

To My Dearest.

My Dearest Sasha,

I have been meaning to write this letter to you since about month seven of my pregnancy. I had bought a baby book and there was a special envelope for a letter to baby from Mommy. I haven't gotten around to putting a letter on actual paper but believe me my dear I write to you daily in my head.

I am having surgery in the morning and while I expect to be home and whining by dinnertime this last year has taught me that life can and will change in an instant and it is important to seize the time you have when you have it. These things are important to me and I hope someday we will sit and laugh at how I was afraid and so I wrote them all down. My hope is by the time you are old enough to need this advice you will be very sick of hearing it. From me. This is not a full list, which will go in the baby book, but this is a good start.

Things to Remember

You are so loved. You were so wanted and loved before I ever met the you that you are. I longed for you, dreamed for you, and craved you. The day that we met was easily the best and worst day, imagine having everything you have dreamed of handed to you in a 7.7 pound squalling package, everyone looks to the mom for answers but the truth is that we were just meeting for the first time (I have never felt that kind of fear and joy at the same time) and I had no clue what I was doing. Before you I had never seen what innately good really was. Your spirit and joy for everything around you is infectious as is your constant smile and laughter. Your eyes are so wise it is almost like you are saying not to worry you and I will be okay, we will take this adventure together.

Be kind to everyone you meet. There is never a reason to be mean to people, you never know what is going on in their lives and you never know when you may need help from someone. The same goes for if you are having a bad time, there is no reason to take it out on others. You would be surprised how far a kind word and smile will get you. Always smile at other women; this may seem weird for me to say but something happens around middle school and girls can be mean and awkward and a smile can disarm a situation like nothing else. Also you are stunning inside and out when you smile.

Be fair and honest, lying never helps anything and unless you memory is flawless it usually catches up with you. Be kind to all the people you meet. Always tip 20%. If the service is awful go with 15% trust me the server will get the message with a 15% tip, they may be having a bad night but they are still tipping out every other person in the restaurant (that's right sometimes as much as 40 percent of what they are tipped). Donate generously whether it be time or money there is nothing more rewarding than knowing you have given to help make the world better (Go ask Grandma to tell you the starfish story)

People will say things to you, about you and sometimes for you. Own your voice and know that you are who you are and there is nothing wrong with that. Don't let ANYONE tell you there is ANYTHING wrong with you. My biggest regret in life has been my over concern of what other people think of me. In the end you have to like you, also please make sure you love yourself before you ever try and love someone else. Never compromise your morals or potential just to make someone else happy.

Drink Slurpees in the summer and hot chocolate in the winter, go on spring break, please don't TP houses (Again go ask Grandma to tell you the story about Aunt C.) Get a job learn how to drive a stick, sleep in, go to the beach, love all music, travel, love, live.

If you ever can't talk to me you can always talk to Aunt J. She can answer anything and everything plus she knows more about beauty products than any human should and she is good at math and making mac and cheese. She can fill in the blanks and hold your hand when need be. She rescued me when I didn't even know I was lost. She is the perfect example of choosing your family. Not all family shares blood with you, you create and surround yourself with those people who are genuine. Some of the best people in life are friends.

Your father is a good, caring man;  he loves you fiercely and would do anything for you. Be patient with him, you are his little lady and that will never change. You will always be the tiny girl that he brought home in ladybug pajamas. Yes his love of golf is annoying but so is my shoe collection and coffee habit.

I wanted to name you Lorelai...any questions about that one can be answered by the Gilmore Girls and your father.

I love you bug and I will do anything in my power to make sure you and I go on this adventure together, even in the mandatory teenage hating years I will win you back one emo song, latte, and Nordstrom trip at a time.

You are now and forever my greatest joy.

Love,

Your Mom

Let's Have a Chat

I think that some of the coolest people EVER read this here blog. I am sure many of you are very, very busy. During this cycle I have felt very emotional and scared and you, my readers, have been there for me. I feel a bit sheepish even bringing this up...I check my stats, I see how many people look at this thing a day and yet there are not that many comments. Comments started out as a fun thing, a nice way to be connected to others and then after my loss and during the rough time in my marriage they were like a lifeline.

Right now I am anxious about this cycle. I am scared that I WILL get pregnant and the same thing will happen again. I feel so alone. I am tired and moody and missing my family, my family who I can't talk to about this. I mean really how can I call home and bitch about how crappy I feel (self-induced) when my sister has cancer and doesn't have a choice in how she feels, when she will never have kids now. So friends inside my laptop I call on you to please be my lifeline again, please comment even if it is just to tell me I am full of crap or have stinky feet. I know you are all busy so please know that I appreciate you one and all.

Nasty Nightmares Anyone?

Friday afternoon I decided to open all the windows in my house for fresh air...okay I guess that would be kind of obvious, anyway it was a nice semi-warm day so open them I did. This is the first time since I was five that I have lived in a single story home, so while window opening isn't unusual for me window opening on the bottom floor of my house always has been. Call me overly cautious but ever since I was attacked in high school I am weird about certain things. So the windows went open in every room and I tried not to think about someone possibly coming in one of them. I know you must be thinking, "Then why open them all?" I just needed to.

I have always felt safe having Duke in the house but since it appears this marriage isn't going to work and I am going to be on my own first in Chicago and then San Fransisco I need to learn to feel safe alone. Not that I am going to go leaving bottom floor windows open to spawn a feeling of safety but I live in a small town and my neighbors were home and for god's sake it was only for a few hours and sometimes a girl needs some fresh air.

Can anyone tell me then why I woke up crying in the middle of the night because I had a nightmare that someone tried to kidnap me while I was walking to my car so I ran back to my hotel suite and saw the "bad guy" heading my way and realized that my room was made all out of windows and that they were all unlocked (!!!) so I start trying to lock them but they are those stupid multi-functional windows that will open ( I looked for a picture but couldn't find one) side-to-side or will open from the top (almost so it looks like it is falling into the room, I am so not explaining this well, sorry) Anyway so I am desperately trying to lock these windows and now I can't see the bad guy so who knows where he is and the windows are now falling all around me and then I forced myself to wake up and I was sitting there crying. While I had the windows open yesterday I felt fine which made this nightmare even more of a surprise. I rarely have these kind of dreams anymore and if I do it is always the same one and it usually falls closer to the anniversary (it will be nine years in April) of the original incident.

I guess my question is do we ever fully heal? Are we changed or damaged forever when something bad happens? Is it the same when something good happens?