Carina's Birth Story

As so many of you already know, this past pregnancy was a miracle for us.  After suffering two losses in a row within a year, I had began to question my body's ability to ever carry a baby to full-term again.  I felt blessed to have had my wonderful son over 13 years ago, but I still felt a piece of my life was missing...  I found that missing piece and everything finally became whole for me at 4:13 in the morning on February 9, 2012.  <3


February 8, 2012, approximately 2:50am- I woke up my husband.  Yep, I am definitely feeling contractions.  I had lost my mucus plug all throughout the day the day before.  I wasn't alarmed by that.  Obviously, I knew that we were one step closer to welcoming our baby girl into the world, but I also knew that you could lose your mucus plug a couple of weeks before birth.  So, it could have meant that nothing would be happening any time this week.  My husband started timing the contractions.  There was no pattern.  One would last a few seconds and be followed 7 minutes later by another one.  Then the next one would last 30 seconds and it would be 13 minutes until the next one.  And this would be my entire day- on and off contractions, no pattern, erratic intensity, confusion, and limbo.


To be on the safe side, my husband called off from work for the day, and I called my mother and put her on alert.  My mother & my husband would both be my birth partners for this miracle.  We went ahead and made sure the hospital bags were packed and ready to go just in case.  At around 1pm, I decided it was time to call my midwife.  The lack of pattern (yep, we were looking for that whole 5-1-1 deal) had become frustrating.  Sometimes the contractions would stop altogether for 30-45 minutes and then start back up again. My midwife had us come in and she checked my cervix (I mean, she actually grabbed my cervix!).  I was still 50% effaced, but had progressed to 3 cm.  But then again, that could mean everything or nothing.  As my midwife told us, I could go into labor in a few hours, a few days, or some time the following week.  At this point, the frustration and lack of sleep from the night before started to get to me.  I begged for either the contractions to stop or for something really definitive to happen- like my water breaking- to get this show on the road.  


At around 4pm, I decided to take a nap.  I was exhausted.  The contractions and 4 hours of sleep from the night before had started to take their toll.  My lower back was aching, so I laid down with my heating pad and fell fast asleep.  That didn't last very long.  For an hour and half, the contractions came consistently at 10 minutes apart.  But they didn't intensify and they didn't get any closer together.  My husband plays tennis every Wednesday evening with my dad, and I told him to go ahead and go.  If I needed him, he would be less than 10 minutes away anyways.  But I really didn't foresee me going into real, 5-1-1 labor any time in the next couple of hours.


I decided to get up from my nap.  I was achy and thought that maybe walking around would help.  I put a frozen pizza in the oven and tried to go about my usual routine, but something felt off.  I couldn't concentrate.  My body just ached. I started wondering what the hell I was thinking putting a pizza in the oven! By chance, my mother decided to stop over and check on me after she got off from work.  Never was I so glad to have my mom just drop by.  Shortly after she arrived my contractions started to intensify.  I had to stop what I was doing and work through them.  Right away, my mom knew what was happening and started timing them.  Forget 5-1-1.  That never happened.  My contractions just steadily got stronger & closer together within an hour.  It was time to call the husband home from his tennis date with my dad.  It was time to head to the hospital.


We arrived at the hospital and they checked me into triage.  I had no idea what to expect.  This was all new territory for me.  My son was born over 13 years ago via a scheduled induction.  I had no idea what non-Pitocin induced, natural labor felt like (although I was now getting a very good idea of it!).  I just knew that every time a contraction came, I had to stop and lean on my husband or mother and squeeze their hand.  I was scared, I was excited, I was nervous, and I was ready.  After it was determined that I was indeed in labor and dilated to 4cm, I was admitted to labor and delivery.  Right before we left triage, I felt warm liquid on my leg. I was about 99% sure that my water had just broke.  My midwife wasn't as convinced.  She thought it was just jelly from my cervix check.  But the contractions got much more painful, and my rests between them got very much shorter after that happened.


As I walked into the labor and delivery room that would become our "home" for 3 days and 4 nights, I already knew that at some point that evening I would probably be singing (or maybe screaming) "Coqui".  In my birth plan, we had decided on as much of a natural birth as my body and pain tolerance would allow me.  Ideally, I wanted to go completely pain medications free, but I also knew that flexibility was key.  My husband and I had a code word.  One word that if uttered from my lips meant that I truly, really wanted an epidural.  One word that could not comfortably work itself into normal labor and birth speak.  The word was "Coqui".  The tiny singing frogs that my husband and I had grown to love while spending our belated honeymoon in Puerto Rico this past June.  We had found out we were pregnant with this precious angel the day before we left.  


I told my midwife my fears that I didn't know how much more of the labor pains and contractions I could take. The pain was intense. What if this lasted for hours and hours?  I was already exhausted from being up since 3am that morning trying to time the contractions and desperately trying to see a pattern in them.  Physically I was already depleted. She suggested I try the shower with the detachable massaging shower head and see if that helped.  While I sat on a birthing ball in the shower, my mother and husband took turns aiming the warm water at my still big with baby belly, holding my hand, trying to encourage me to breathe.  Even though I have practiced yoga for YEARS, I still tense up and have a hard time taking deep breaths when in pain. I made it almost another 2 hours without pain medications by sitting in that shower.  My body started to shake with each contraction, the pain was intense.  I looked at my husband and said "Coqui" multiple times. He went to get a nurse and my midwife to ask for the epidural.  I wasn't disappointed in myself. I knew I had went as far as my body was going to let me.  I felt a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction that I hadn't caved sooner.  But I knew my body's limits and I was at them.


Before the epidural was started, my midwife decided to break my water.  But very little trickled out when she attempted this.  I had told that my water had already broke. ;)


The anesthesiologist came in to start my epidural.  Once he finished, he sat in the room with me to make sure the medication was taking effect.  It seemed to take the edge off of my pain, but I could still feel my legs, I could feel the catheter they had put in, and I still knew when I was getting contractions.  Having had an epidural with my son, I knew what one should feel like. This didn't feel the same.  I thought maybe I had just had a stronger epidural with my son.  But then I started feeling contractions again, but just in one isolated area. What was going on?  They called the anesthesiologist back in, and he decided to add a Fentanyl dosage to my epidural drip.  Immediately my vision became jumpy.  Breathing felt difficult, and my pulse rate dropped.  The nurse asked the anesthesiologist if he would like an EKG ordered. What?? What was happening?  I started to panic a little. Was I okay?  Is the baby okay?  


Eventually my pulse went back to normal and even though I wasn't completely numb, I felt less pain.  Everything was fine... for about 45 minutes. Then I started feeling my contractions again full on.  I remember telling my husband that it wasn't fair. I wasn't supposed to be feeling these. I had broke down and asked for the epidural... for nothing??  The nurse called the anesthesiologist back to my room.  He decided to just redo the epidural altogether.  Once he had pulled out the original epidural catheter, he found what the problem was. There was blood in the catheter.  The catheter had nicked a tiny blood vessel and part of my epidural medication was going directly into my bloodstream.  That explained why the Fentanyl had affected my vision, breathing, and pulse so quickly.  He redid the epidural and then I just went numb from the waist down. Relief at last.  I fell asleep shortly after.  I knew I needed a little rest.  Myself and my body would have another big and miraculous task still to accomplish and it would be happening sooner than I had anticipated when I had closed my eyes for that nap.


About 20 minutes after I had fallen asleep, our labor nurse came in to check on baby girl's progress.  She looked up at me and told me that her head was in the birth canal.  I asked her if she could see her head and she said oh, yes. My husband could see her head from where he was sitting across the room.  I was a little taken back because I had felt absolutely no pressure, no urge to push. I worried about how long my baby girl had been in that holding pattern.  She called my midwife in.  In a few short minutes, my hospital room was filled with nurses and hospital personnel.  It was time.  Our sweet baby girl would be coming into this world soon.


My husband had decided prior to her birth that he wanted to be the one to deliver her and place her on my chest after she was born.  At first he was hesitant at even the thought of being down there, close to where all the action was taking place.  But the more he thought about it and the more we talked about it with my midwife, the more he knew that this was a once in a lifetime moment that he did not want to miss for anything.  With my mother and nurses by my head, holding my hands, and encouraging me; and my husband and midwife preparing to help bring our little girl into the world, it was time. I was ready to push.  At 3:56am, I started to push in our dimly lit L&D room.  Within 17 minutes, our sweet baby was on my chest and in my arms.  My husband did an amazing job of delivering her (with some fabulous coaching from my midwife).  There are no words to explain the joy, the pride, the love I felt when I looked at my baby girl's face for the first time.  The only words that I could utter was, "She's so tiny!".  

We delayed the cord clamping, and all the measurements and statistics and just spent the first hour of her life outside of me together.  As a family.  For the first time. My husband and I broke down into tears together as the reality of what had been happening in my womb for the past 9 months finally hit home for us both.  She was actually here.  Safe and with us. Finally. 

Carina Ellynn

Born at 4:13am on February 9, 2012

7lbs 1oz     19 1/4 in

2011- My Perfect Whirlwind

Some would look at my life the past year and call it a whirlwind.  A whirlwind of love, hope, change, loss, tears, anticipation, and new beginnings.  From the outside looking in, I guess I would also use the word whirlwind to describe 2011 for me.  But from where I sit, everything happened just as it should.  Just as it was meant to be.  It all seemed to happen at just the right pace, at just the right time.  

New Year's Eve 2010- Yes, those are Buddhas.

I rang in 2011 with my soon-to-be husband.  We had just moved into together after just a few short months of dating, but those few months felt like years.  I never questioned my move to be with him.  I never wondered if it was all happening too soon.  I just knew it felt right.  A couple of days after New Year's, we found out that we were expecting our first baby... Blueberry.  She was a surprise.  We had talked about going ahead and trying to have a baby a month before then, but had decided to wait since we were busy making wedding plans.  Every decision was prefaced by, "But what if I am pregnant by then?".  So, we decided to wait until the week of the wedding to try to get pregnant.  Originally we were planning a September wedding, but when we found out about our little one on the way we moved it up to May.  Our joy would be short-lived.  Blueberry would leave us on January 30th.  I was heartbroken and questioning whether my husband & I would ever have a child together.  Blueberry was my second loss in less than a year.  What if I couldn't stay pregnant?  

After losing our baby, my midwife recommended us to an OB/GYN that she thought could help us.  From our first meeting with her, I regained hope.  She prescribed me every blood test under the sun and scheduled a saline sonogram for April.  All tests came back negative.  No blood disorders. No thyroid problems. No immune disorders. Nothing physical that could have caused my losses.  This gave me relief, but also worry.  I didn't have a "cure".  But our OB said to try again in May, and she looked forward to seeing us again for our first prenatal appointment.  Confidence.  I needed that.

Our wedding day- May 2011

My husband and I planned our perfect, ideal wedding.  It wasn't huge, but it was classic.  Timeless.  Us.  Just recently my husband said to me, "You know what I loved most about our wedding? That I could look to the left and then to right, and I knew every single person there."  Our wedding day also signified the week we would officially start trying to have a baby again.  Apparently this was when it was meant to happen.  A few weeks later, we found out we were pregnant again.  We dubbed her Bean.  

The first few months of the pregnancy were exciting, anxiety-ridden, amazing, & scary.  Each new milestone brought us hope.  But the fear lingered in the back of my mind always- please don't let me lose another baby.  Honestly, I wasn't sure I could handle another loss.  I didn't know if I would have the courage to try again.  But every healthy ultrasound, every new week  in the pregnancy were small victories and brought us renewed hope.  

Our Bean at 20 weeks

I had decided even before we had started to trying to conceive again that I would approach this pregnancy with a very different attitude than I had with Blueberry.  With Blueberry, we didn't tell hardly anyone about her. Not even my parents or my son. I wouldn't allow myself to buy a single maternity item or any baby clothes.  I was not going to let it rip my heart out if something happened again. But we lost her. And my heart was still ripped out.  

Bean would be different.  I wasn't going to question whether she would make it past 8 weeks.  I had to believe that she would.  I told my parents, my sister, my son, and a few close friends within a week of us finding out we were pregnant again.  The rest of the world would find out after our 13 week ultrasound.  We bought her a stuffed coqui frog during our honeymoon to Puerto Rico- I was only 5 weeks pregnant then.  Now this isn't to say that I never worried or had anxious moments of panic in that first trimester.  I had them all the time.  But I forced myself to take deep breaths and willed myself to think positive thoughts.  And I prayed.

2011 literally ended with my husband and I moving back to our hometown.  My husband had lost his job just two months before.  I feel blessed that we had that time together even if we faced financial hardship and new stress.  But we were able to spend hours together feeling our baby girl move, talking to her, making our plans for her future with us.  Those are moments I wouldn't trade for any paycheck.  2012 has brought us a new beginning, but in familiar surroundings, and closer to the family that we love and hold so dear.  In a few short weeks our baby girl will be here and a new amazing and beautiful chapter in our lives will begin... 

"Every day brings new light...you just need to look for it."

Reflection & a Lesson Learned

Sometimes this is all still so surreal to me.  Despite the ultrasound pictures.  Despite the countless times I have heard her little strong heartbeat on my rented Doppler.  Despite how many times I feel her roll, and poke, and bebop inside of me.  Sometimes it is still hard to believe that a little life is growing strong inside of me.  

I cherish each of the moments that I have with her, inside of me... right now.  This may be have been the most difficult thing for me to learn during this pregnancy- living in the present, enjoying every moment of this miracle as fully as I can.  Not always wanting to push the fast forward button to February when my little girl should arrive into this world.  From my losses, I know the sting of not having control, of not always being able to protect a life inside of you.  But if I dwell on those unthinkable possibilities then I will miss out on the precious memories that are being made now.  The quiet moments late at night when my baby girl starts to squirm and wiggle, & I lay my hand across my belly and feel her touch me.  The moments when my son leans down to kiss my belly, his baby sister.  The many times throughout the day that my husband gently rubs my belly, admires my growing profile, & lays his head on my lap & talks to our baby girl.  Maybe the most difficult thing I have had to learn in this pregnancy is how to let go of all the worries & fears & to find Faith.  Not always an easy thing to do when you have experienced so much heartbreak & disappointment in the past.  But the other alternative to having faith is to be bogged down by my anxieties.  And there have been many moments in this journey when I have allowed my mind and heart to be bogged down with the fears & misgivings of not having control over the final outcome.  

It has been a lesson slowly learned over the past 5 months- breathe, enjoy & cherish every single moment of this pregnancy, and keep Faith.  

The Tear Stained Sleeper

I bought this for my Peanut.  It was my second pregnancy & I was still blissfully ignorant to the reality of miscarriage.  This is the first thing that I saw & fell in love with and knew that I had to have it for this baby.  I could already see my baby bug all warm and snug for bedtime wearing this very sleeper...

I pulled out my box of a few baby items that I had bought for Peanut today.  Blueberry doesn't have a box.  :/ I couldn't bring myself to buy any baby clothes during my 3rd pregnancy until we had made it to the 2nd trimester.  Tragically, we didn't make it past 7 weeks.  My plan today was to add the clothes I had been buying for the Bean to the outfits I already had from Peanut.  And then I saw this sleeper...  And it opened up unexpected floodgates of sadness and grief for me.
 
The evening we found out that Peanut was lifeless floating inside of me, I fell asleep clutching this tiny sleeper.  I cried heavily & deeply into it's fabric until I passed out.  I realized that I would never see my Peanut wearing that sleeper to bed.  Or see him smile.  Or hold him warm against my chest.  I clung to this sleeper like it was Peanut himself...

Today I hugged that sleeper against my chest again.  And I cried heavily and deeply into it's fabric.  Pregnancy doesn't make the ache go away...  I still miss the babies that I will never get to meet in this life. 

Today is a Day to Celebrate...

Bean at 13 weeks- see the hand & tiny fingers up near her forehead? ;)

Today is a day to celebrate.  Today seems almost surreal to me.  Today I am officially in my second trimester.  Just six months ago I questioned whether this would ever really happen.  Whether I would ever make it past 7 weeks in a pregnancy again.   And here I am.  Today at 14 weeks by the grace of God and the love and support of my husband, my son, my parents, my family, & friends.  I have been blessed to feel baby flutters here and there, and in those moments I am more grateful than I can describe.  I feel more relaxed every day, bit by bit. I still have my moments of fear and worry.  But today I am 14 weeks pregnant and my Bean is growing inside of me.  Today I feel at peace.  Today I feel blessed.  :)



Hey Anxiety, Can We Please Call a Truce for Just the Next 6 Months??

Anxiety has been a part of my life for the past 4 years.  At it's worst, it left me feeling utterly paralyzed.  At it's worst, I was at a job that I loathed.  The boss was constantly looking for anything & everything to criticize.  I suffered from 5-6 full-blown anxiety attacks every day while working.  Every. single. day.  At it's worst, I lost hours and hours of sleep.  Insomnia became the norm for me.  My relationships suffered greatly.  I lost more than one friend during that time.  At the urging of my sister & a close friend (and the realization that I felt completely out of control with my life), I finally got help.  Professional help.  And it was the best thing I ever did for myself.

3 years later I decided to wean myself from the anti-anxiety meds my therapist had prescribed for me.  I had became an avid yogi, and felt more grounded.  Cooking became a form of therapy for me as well.  Anxiety attacks were pretty much nonexistent for me at the time.  And I knew I would want to try to conceive again soon.  I didn't want to be on anti-anxiety meds when they time came.  I was on them when my first miscarriage happened.  Why I cannot say that the meds caused my loss, I also cannot rule out that they didn't. 

Anxiety has taken on a new life during this pregnancy.  Anxiety most exhibits itself when you feel you have no control over the outcomes in your life.  And during what time more than any in a woman's life does she feel more out of control of the outcome that when she is carrying another life? While most of the time I can keep it in check, there are times when it gets the best of me & the worry overtakes me.  During these times, many of you have witnessed my frantic ramblings.  My tweets of worry and what-if's.  I thank all of you who have been there, reassuring me, and just supporting me.  While just about every expectant mother worries at some point, an expectant mother who suffers from anxiety and has suffered from 2 miscarriages faces a different challenge.  I want to stay calm and positive for my baby.  I feel guilty when I am not able to do that. 

This past week we have received absolutely joyful and relieving news about our baby Bean.  We saw Bean active and flipping on the ultrasound screen.  Everything looks great.  Our first trimester screening results came back normal.  We have no need to worry about CVS or amniocentesis.  For four days in a row, I felt some kind of flutter or bubbles from the Bean.  Maybe for only a few seconds, but at least once a day.  We told everyone that we are pregnant.  We were finally at a milestone in this pregnancy where we felt comfortable doing that. 
And maybe for all of these reasons, this is why I am now anxious.  I am not used to receiving good news about a pregnancy.  A part of me thinks that maybe some of this is just too good to be true.  All of our friends and family now know that we are pregnant.  And while I was comfortable with this, I now feel so exposed.  Everyone knows now.  And now I am scared that something bad will happen. 

I hadn't felt any Bean bubbles all day yesterday.  I had felt sharp twinges in my left side (where Bean has been hanging out lately) first thing yesterday morning.  But not much after that... Last night my anxiety got the best of me.  It took my thoughts and my emotions and ran with them.  I have less resistance when anxiety attacks me in the middle of the night or the wee early hours of the morning.  If I can't get myself back to sleep immediately, the worry takes over my mind and sleep eludes me. 
I whispered to myself that all was fine, to just breathe, and order a Doppler to rent first thing in the morning...  And I told Bean how much she was is loved.  Please keep growing for mama. 

My Wordless Wednesday

The Bebopping Bean

Bean- 10 weeks

Last Wednesday (after placing an urgent & anxious call to my nurse at my OB's office), my husband and I got to see the Bean again.  Why anxious?  Why urgent?  I believe it was mainly because we had entered the 10th week, another (and the last) trigger week for me.  In January 2010 when I was what we thought was 10 weeks pregnant, I found out my Peanut had never really made it past week 7.  I was told it was a missed miscarriage.  So, even though I wasn't experiencing any of what most people (and the medical community) would classify as miscarriage symptoms, that didn't mean much to me.  What is "normal" for most women hasn't been normal for me in a couple of years.  I can't trust the normal, obvious signs of pregnancy loss.  So, I had a minor freak-out.  I had not seen our baby in 3 weeks and how could I be sure that everything was fine?

So, the nurse scheduled us another date with wandy that afternoon...

The hardest moment of each ultrasound for me is those first few moments after the wand has been inserted and the ultrasound tech hasn't breathed a word yet.  I cannot stand more than a minute or two of silence, and have to ask rather anxiously, "How is the baby?"  (In my prior experience, silence during an ultrasound is a VERY bad sign.  I refuse to let the tech stay silent.)

And she turned the screen to us and pointed at that familiar flickering spot on the screen.  *Deep sigh of relief*  And then my husband and I marveled at what we were seeing.  We couldn't believe how much bigger Bean was in just 3 weeks!  And Bean looks like, well a baby!  Before Bean was kind of a shadowy white blur. 
Watching my husband's reaction to all of this is something I will always cherish.  This is his first child.  I have a son from a previous marriage, so all this isn't completely new to me.  But for my husband this is new, amazing ground. 

After taking all the necessary measurements (and the Bean measured in at just about exactly 10 weeks ;) ), it was time for the tech to capture the heart rate.  Bean decided that he didn't want to cooperate much initially.  Bean was bebopping!  We watched as he moved his hands back and forth and touched them together. (Our baby has hands, and fingers, and legs!!)  She tried 5 times before the little one finally stopped moving around just enough for her to finally catch that little heart rate- 164 beats per minute! 

As a mother to two beautiful babies that I haven't met yet and a sufferer of anxiety, this ultrasound has brought me peace of mind.  While I know I am never really out of the woods (and those fleeting thoughts that all of this still could come to an abrupt end still plague me now and again), I feel more confident, more hopeful.  I have found myself actually experiencing feelings of nostalgia now over my pregnancy with my son as this one progresses instead of constantly comparing it to my last 2 miscarriages.  That is definitely a step in a better direction for me.  More often than not, I now experience a symptom or notice the more pronounced rounding of my belly and it reminds of me of how I felt when I was carrying my son.  For that and for the health of this baby I am carrying now, I am grateful beyond words.

A Mother's Longing Just to Be... Just Once More.

Blissful ignorance.  Sometimes I long to feel that again... I had that once.  When I was pregnant with my son.  I didn't overanalyze every little twinge and pain and ache and pregnancy symptom.  I just assumed whatever I was feeling at the time was normal because, well... I had never been pregnant before and what the hell did I know?  I read What to Expect When You Are Expecting like it was my daily bible.  But I wasn't a total spaz.  I didn't work myself up into a fevered frenzy with every new symptom that I couldn't definitively define as a sign of a healthy pregnancy.  I was just able to Be.  In the moment.  I attached every fiber of my being to that little boy that was growing inside me.  And I didn't worry all that much...

Que ahead 13 years later... Almost 9 weeks pregnant with my fourth baby.  But I don't have 3 children right now.  I have one- my son.  My second baby should have turned 1 in less than a month from now.  I should still be pregnant with my third baby.  She wasn't due until September 13th... 

So here I am pregnant with my fourth miracle.  And I am scared.  I have the ability to become a total basketcase at the drop of a dime.  It is a great skill you pick up after pregnancy loss has forever changed your life.  I can never have back the blissful ignorance I experienced when pregnant with my son.  Miscarriage has robbed me of that.  No matter how optimistic, or zen, or hopeful I try to be, that looming gray cloud will always be there.  Once you know how easily something can go wrong, you really can't ever forget that.  It is there.  It is real.  And while I am sure it will fade somewhat as I get further along in this pregnancy, it will never really disappear.

After giving birth to my son, I always dreamed of the day when I would be pregnant again.  It never really hit me until after I was holding him in the delivery room what all was really going on inside of me that past 9 months.  I mean, I knew.  I read all the books, and we had more ultrasound pics than most expecting parentss I knew at the time did due to my son's kidney problem they discovered during my 16 week scan.  But you don't really KNOW until you are holding that little person in your arms and looking at them face to face and not through sound waves.  I knew with my next pregnancy I would not take what was happening inside of me for granted.  I knew what was happening now.  But after a divorce, and 9 years of dating the wrong guys, my dreams of baby #2 seemed to be fading. 
And then I met my husband.  By then, I had suffered one miscarriage.  It tainted my excitement of finally being pregnant with my second baby.  We found out we were pregnant in January of this year.  I became the cautious, superstition fearing mother-to-be and most of you know that story.  We lost our baby on the last day of January.

I am angry sometimes.  Angry that it seems like the joy and happiness I should be feeling with this pregnancy has been stolen by loss and grief and pain.  I feel guilty.  Guilty that I am not able to give this baby the same feelings of excitement and confidence that I gave my son when I was carrying him.  It isn't fair, really.  I feel like I am putting my joy and total elation on hold until we reach some momentous milestone in the near future, but I never really can decide just what that milestone will be- another ultrasound showing our baby is growing on schedule? The second trimester?  When we find out the sex? 
Not being excited and happy as I want to be is also causing me to put an emotional space between myself and this baby... I love it with all my heart.  There is no doubt of that.  But my heart fears the possibility of being broken again.

My baby deserves more from me.  And I need to be better, do better...  I have to find the courage to let go of my fears as best as I can and just Be.  Right here.  In this moment.  Pregnant with my sweet little baby.  I am grateful for every moment this baby is growing inside of me and my baby needs to know that.

Restoring My Hope One Baby Step at a Time...

Bean- 7 weeks, 3 days

After a restless & somewhat worrisome day and a half, my husband and I got to see Bean again for a third time.  There was no emergency.  No miscarriage symptoms.  Just this looming bake it or break it deadline looming in the back of my mind.  The 7th week of pregnancy has not been good to me or my babies the last two times. 

They brought me back to the ultrasound room 20 minutes after my scheduled time.  On edge and anxious, the ultrasound tech inserted the wand and I took a deep breath, squeezing my husband's hand.  In just a few moments, we would know.  We would know if our baby had made it through my scary week.  Within a few seconds, I heard her speak magical words to us, "I see the heartbeat and boy, is it going!".  She turned the screen towards us and there in the middle of that hazy, white mass was a wildly flickering spot- our baby's heart beating.  I laughed, then I cried and then I breathed a huge sigh of relief.  She did a count on the baby's heart rate- an amazing 175 beats per minute!  Bean had went from a heart rate of 105 one week before to 175!  Wow....  She did all the necessary measurements and then gave us our first official due date- February 14, 2012. <3  Happy Valentine's Day to us... :)

My anxiety has greatly subsided since this ultrasound.  We had reached one incredible milestone- a baby with a strong heartbeat past 7 weeks.  Today we reached another- I have made it to 8 weeks of pregnancy.  I haven't made it to the 8th week in pregnancy since I was pregnant with my son 13 years ago.  Tomorrow we will hopefully reach another- making it to our first prenatal appointment with our OB/GYN.  My hope is returning, my faith in my body is being restored...  I know I am not completely out of the woods.  You never are until you are actually holding that tiny baby in your arms after 9 months of pregnancy, and hours of labor and pushing.  But I have hope.  My hope is looking at you in that picture above. 



Crickets...

I am struggling... Struggling with what I am supposed to blog about or tweet about.  I have felt that a part of my online support system has fell silent since I announced my pregnancy, and have started to share some of the joys and lows of being pregnant again after losing two babies in a row.  Even when I have strived to support others and offer words of encouragement to those in the 2ww, and those suffering their own losses and setbacks...  Few replies, few responses.  Mostly just crickets. 

And I ask myself, why is that?

I understand the IF side of it.  I know the feelings of jealously and slight bitterness when one of us has made it to where we all wish that we could be.  And I also know the feeling of hope that would bestow in me at the same time.  Such conflicting emotions...

Those riding the roller coaster of IVF and IUI need the most support in their 2ww's.  But miscarriage survivors need the support during the actual pregnancy- namely whenever their scary weeks are, when they have lost their baby(ies) in the past.  This week is MY scary week.  I lost Blueberry 5 months ago during my 7th week of pregnancy.  I am 7 weeks pregnant now and hopeful and scared and anxious... Peanut stopped growing at 6-7 weeks in January 2010.  I feel like this is my trial under fire week.  If I can just get through THIS week with a baby inside of me with a heart still beating, I will breathe a giant sigh of relief.  At least for that moment, one very important milestone will be reached. 

My blog has fell silent until now...  Really because I had no idea what to blog about, or what wouldn't offend, or trigger someone else.  And I also felt that maybe no one would be interested in reading the pregnant girl's blog now...

I don't want to offend anyone with my pregnancy.  I don't want to appear to be smug.  I am so far from that.  Eventually I want to be able to fully celebrate this pregnancy without feeling as if others think that I am bragging.  I feel that I deserve to celebrate this baby now and in the future.  I have already endured flushing two of my babies away.  I can't even explain to anyone in any words what that is like.  Only those who have experienced it themselves can truly understand.  I hate every day that my babies left this world that way, and that there was very little I could do to help them or change that.  So, if Bean sticks (and I pray every single day that he/she does), I will post bump photos, and ultrasound pics, and make a tasteful announcement on Facebook.  And I fully realize that I may become unpopular with some for that, and may even lose some followers for it.  And I am okay with that.  I feel in my heart of hearts that women who have suffered pregnancy losses or IF hell and who have successfully become pregnant (and in some of our cases, stay pregnant) are the ones who deserve to celebrate this miracle more than anyone else.  I felt that before I became pregnant this time, and I still feel that way now.