This past weekend was bittersweet. I've debated with myself if I should even make a post about it, but decided that it would help to heal some of the pain I've been feeling.
My sister was married. It was such a joyful occasion, and she married a great guy. This sounds cliche, but truly they seem almost made for each other. Everything went great, and I was so happy to be able to help make their wedding day absolutely fabulous.
But on the other hand, her wedding fell 2 months to the day after giving birth to Garrett prematurely. I can't help but remember that I was supposed to be 7 months pregnant. I was planning on being 7 months pregnant when my sister started planning everything. And upon reflection I realized I wanted to wear the maternity dress that wasn't very flattering. I wanted to be uncomfortable and tired and moody because I was pregnant. I wanted to ruin the symmetry of the wedding pictures with my big pregnant belly. I was planning on being able to revel in my gestational state and was going to enjoy every minute of it - the good and the bad.
But instead, I received many compliments on my definitely non-maternity dress, was completely comfortable (aside from the shoes that pinched), and wasn't moody in the least (although my husband might argue that point). The only thing that hinted at the recent pregnancy was the fact that my skirt was too big around the waist due to the fact that I've lost some postpartum inches and had to be altered at the last minute to accommodate. I was however exhausted, but that had nothing to do unfortunately with being pregnant.
My sister thanked me several times for being such a great help, but selfishly I didn't want to be able to be such a great help to my sister. I wanted to be incapacitated with pregnancy! I should have been incapacitated with pregnancy!
The reason I debated about whether I should post this is because I don't want to make anyone feel bad. I made every effort to keep my thoughts away from my sister and mother and even myself! This weekend was about my sister, and I didn't want to detract from that.
My sister and her new husband showed a slideshow of pictures during the reception. My recently departed grandmother was in one of the pictures, and I thought that was a nice tribute since she should have been there as well. But even if my sister wanted to, how would you pay tribute to a pregnancy and a baby that should still be?
Grieving invokes emotions of guilt over the emotions you have from the grief - a strange sort of irony, and this is no different. I feel guilt over the emotions I am experiencing as a result of my sister's wedding. I just want to be happy for her, but the reminder of what should have been makes me resentful. I don't want her to think it's her fault I've having to deal with these emotions, because it's not. I am faced with reminders everyday, and these are the new challenges I must face on this journey that has been laid out for me.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Monday, May 18, 2009
Injections? Who knew!
I had an ad hoc consult appointment with the obstetrician that the perinatologist recommended today. It was completely unexpected since I was supposed to attend a workshop (which got canceled for the 3rd time, arrrgg!). I already had a sub watching the daycare so I thought I'd try to see if she had any openings, and low and behold something worked out for once, and she did!
I asked her all the hard questions like, "will you still see me if I'm late?" (Back story filler: My last OB's office made me reschedule my 20 week ultrasound because I was 20 minutes late. I know I was the one late, but come on folks, I've lost a baby! How insensitive can you be?! I even later found out that they have a 30 minute grace period! Now why wasn't I given that grace period at the time?) Among other questions, I also asked how will she manage my care and how will she be emotionally accommodating. She was very personable and willing to see me as often as I felt I needed to be seen. I did find out that the blood thinners are injections you have to give yourself in the abdomen (like insulin). The cheaper of the two drug options is a twice a day injection. The more expensive of the two (that insurance usually doesn't cover, go figure) is a once a day injection. It's funny how at one point in time I would have cringed at the thought of having to go through that for children, but now I see it as just a bump on the road to happiness.
I was also quite impressed with another patient who was waiting to be seen. They had accidentally told her the wrong day of her appointment, but they were still going to fit her in today. I doubt my old doctor's office would have done that.
After our meeting, I walked away from her office with a good feeling knowing that I have two very good doctors who seem genuinely concerned about my wellbeing and the wellbeing of our future babies.
I asked her all the hard questions like, "will you still see me if I'm late?" (Back story filler: My last OB's office made me reschedule my 20 week ultrasound because I was 20 minutes late. I know I was the one late, but come on folks, I've lost a baby! How insensitive can you be?! I even later found out that they have a 30 minute grace period! Now why wasn't I given that grace period at the time?) Among other questions, I also asked how will she manage my care and how will she be emotionally accommodating. She was very personable and willing to see me as often as I felt I needed to be seen. I did find out that the blood thinners are injections you have to give yourself in the abdomen (like insulin). The cheaper of the two drug options is a twice a day injection. The more expensive of the two (that insurance usually doesn't cover, go figure) is a once a day injection. It's funny how at one point in time I would have cringed at the thought of having to go through that for children, but now I see it as just a bump on the road to happiness.
I was also quite impressed with another patient who was waiting to be seen. They had accidentally told her the wrong day of her appointment, but they were still going to fit her in today. I doubt my old doctor's office would have done that.
After our meeting, I walked away from her office with a good feeling knowing that I have two very good doctors who seem genuinely concerned about my wellbeing and the wellbeing of our future babies.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Mother's Day
A few weeks ago I learned of an interesting story about a giraffe that killed herself after the stillbirth of her baby. I found this to be morbidly fascinating. She apparently kept ramming her horns into the earth until they reached through her skull into her brain. While I never had suicidal thoughts, I felt a sense of kinship with this animal because of our shared experiences. However, I've often wondered why her grief was so great she felt she could not go on living. Was it simply because she was an animal and did not have a greater understanding? Was it because she did not have the capability of being comforted by family and friends as we humans do? Was it because she did not have any children dependent on her to force her to continue? I've often reflected on this and wondered why this poor animal could only feel the hurt and not the love for her child and the hope to continue on.
Along a similar line a thought, a friend of mine who has gone through similar hardships told me about an epiphany she had. She said she realized that she will always be a woman who lost a baby. When she first told me this, I didn't understand why she felt this way. Even after my first loss, I did not want the tragedy to define who I was. I knew I would always miss my child, but I suppose I was hoping the birth of another baby would somehow mitigate the loss that I felt. But I also realized a few weeks later that it is a part of who I am, and it can never be changed, erased, or even mitigated with the birth of a healthy baby. It is not all of who I am, but it will always be with me and has influenced who I am and who I will be. I will always mourn the loss of our babies even when I'm old and gray. The pain I feel is because I love my children so much. I am so thankful for the short time we had with them, and I would never trade that for anything. I am reminded of a quote by Alfred Tennyson, "Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all."
Today was also Mother's Day. This can be a painful reminder for women (such as this one from Mamapedia) who have lost a child and especially hard for women who have lost their first child and have no other children. Thankfully I already had a healthy child at the time of our loss, but I would imagine women who have no other children would question if they can even call themselves a mother at all and may feel that they have no right to be honored as one.
The Mother's Day after our first loss I learned that Mother's Day in America was declared a national holiday in 1914 to honor mothers who sons had died in World War I. The holiday was intended to provide comfort and solace to mothers who have lost their children and to honor their sacrifices. Mothers who have experienced a loss can feel comforted knowing that the spirit of the holiday was originally intended for women just like us who have experienced a loss. We can feel comfort in knowing we are more entitled to this holiday than we are led to believe by the commercialized propaganda. It is nice to receive flowers, and cards, and jewelry, but Anna Jarvis, who initially lobbied to have the holiday honored, fought to keep it from being commercialized.
In closing I'd like to leave you with a quote a friend sent me shortly after our 2nd loss that has been especially comforting, "I have found the paradox that if I love until it hurts, then there is no hurt, only more love." -Mother Theresa
Along a similar line a thought, a friend of mine who has gone through similar hardships told me about an epiphany she had. She said she realized that she will always be a woman who lost a baby. When she first told me this, I didn't understand why she felt this way. Even after my first loss, I did not want the tragedy to define who I was. I knew I would always miss my child, but I suppose I was hoping the birth of another baby would somehow mitigate the loss that I felt. But I also realized a few weeks later that it is a part of who I am, and it can never be changed, erased, or even mitigated with the birth of a healthy baby. It is not all of who I am, but it will always be with me and has influenced who I am and who I will be. I will always mourn the loss of our babies even when I'm old and gray. The pain I feel is because I love my children so much. I am so thankful for the short time we had with them, and I would never trade that for anything. I am reminded of a quote by Alfred Tennyson, "Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all."
Today was also Mother's Day. This can be a painful reminder for women (such as this one from Mamapedia) who have lost a child and especially hard for women who have lost their first child and have no other children. Thankfully I already had a healthy child at the time of our loss, but I would imagine women who have no other children would question if they can even call themselves a mother at all and may feel that they have no right to be honored as one.
The Mother's Day after our first loss I learned that Mother's Day in America was declared a national holiday in 1914 to honor mothers who sons had died in World War I. The holiday was intended to provide comfort and solace to mothers who have lost their children and to honor their sacrifices. Mothers who have experienced a loss can feel comforted knowing that the spirit of the holiday was originally intended for women just like us who have experienced a loss. We can feel comfort in knowing we are more entitled to this holiday than we are led to believe by the commercialized propaganda. It is nice to receive flowers, and cards, and jewelry, but Anna Jarvis, who initially lobbied to have the holiday honored, fought to keep it from being commercialized.
In closing I'd like to leave you with a quote a friend sent me shortly after our 2nd loss that has been especially comforting, "I have found the paradox that if I love until it hurts, then there is no hurt, only more love." -Mother Theresa
Friday, May 8, 2009
Answers
I heard back from the perinatologist today. She received the lab results and looked over my operation report.
Basically, I did have a placental abruption. The labor I experienced was triggered by the abruption. My doctor informed me that there is no way to stop an abruption as opposed to pre-term labor which can be managed. In an odd way, this provides me with a sense of comfort knowing that if the doctor had me come in right away when the bleeding started, there is nothing they would have been able to do. I am thankful I came in while Garrett was still alive so we could have the time with him that we did. If we were delayed at all, he may have been stillborn as well.
I had wrestled with myself if I wanted to pursue a lawsuit with what happened with Garrett. I eventually decided that it wasn't worth the gain. I also knew that I was probably trying to place the blame from my grief somewhere. It wasn't going to bring my baby back, and it would just be a lot of work (like I don't have enough already). Hearing this news reinforces what I had already decided.
The doctor also informed me that the lab work indicates that I have a mutation related to thrombophilia (clotting disorder). It is an insignificant mutation in that it doesn't manifest any symptoms in myself and won't increase my risk for vascular disorders. However, she feels confident that this is what caused our unexplained stillbirth and the placental abruption. Good news is I can be treated with blood thinners when I'm pregnant again!
The other good news is I probably won't need to go on bedrest to prevent preterm labor. I certainly would have done it and will still do it if necessary, but I wasn't looking forward to that prospect.
Now that we seem to know the answers (which still seems too good to be true even as I write this), it saddens me that we had to loose two babies before we could know about any of this. I am still anxious about this and all the other possible problems that could happen during subsequent pregnancies. My doctor is going to monitor me very closely during my next pregnancies and have me come in every 3 weeks for ultrasounds and then every week during my last trimester. It will be a lot of doctor appointments but well worth it!
Now all we need to do is "patiently" wait the 6 months before we can start trying again...
Basically, I did have a placental abruption. The labor I experienced was triggered by the abruption. My doctor informed me that there is no way to stop an abruption as opposed to pre-term labor which can be managed. In an odd way, this provides me with a sense of comfort knowing that if the doctor had me come in right away when the bleeding started, there is nothing they would have been able to do. I am thankful I came in while Garrett was still alive so we could have the time with him that we did. If we were delayed at all, he may have been stillborn as well.
I had wrestled with myself if I wanted to pursue a lawsuit with what happened with Garrett. I eventually decided that it wasn't worth the gain. I also knew that I was probably trying to place the blame from my grief somewhere. It wasn't going to bring my baby back, and it would just be a lot of work (like I don't have enough already). Hearing this news reinforces what I had already decided.
The doctor also informed me that the lab work indicates that I have a mutation related to thrombophilia (clotting disorder). It is an insignificant mutation in that it doesn't manifest any symptoms in myself and won't increase my risk for vascular disorders. However, she feels confident that this is what caused our unexplained stillbirth and the placental abruption. Good news is I can be treated with blood thinners when I'm pregnant again!
The other good news is I probably won't need to go on bedrest to prevent preterm labor. I certainly would have done it and will still do it if necessary, but I wasn't looking forward to that prospect.
Now that we seem to know the answers (which still seems too good to be true even as I write this), it saddens me that we had to loose two babies before we could know about any of this. I am still anxious about this and all the other possible problems that could happen during subsequent pregnancies. My doctor is going to monitor me very closely during my next pregnancies and have me come in every 3 weeks for ultrasounds and then every week during my last trimester. It will be a lot of doctor appointments but well worth it!
Now all we need to do is "patiently" wait the 6 months before we can start trying again...
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Ignorance and Trust
During my past pregnancies, I've always steadfastly held to the conviction that I did not want to learn about all the things that could go wrong. I reasoned with myself that there is bliss in ignorance. If I didn't know what could go wrong, I wouldn't have to spend time worrying about something that probably wasn't going to happen anyway (at least not happen to me I used to think smugly). Besides, the doctors would tell me if something was wrong, and we would cross that bridge if we needed to.
But then the unthinkable happened, and our 2nd daughter's heart stopped beating for unknown reasons 2 weeks from her due date, and she was stillborn.
I still maintained my choice of ignorance during my subsequent and 3rd pregnancy, and then the unthinkable happened again. Our first son was born too early at 23 weeks probably as a result of placental abruption but also for unknown reasons.
I came to a realization today that maybe if I start researching all the horrible possibilities, and our next child or I end up having a problem, maybe we can prevent the unthinkable from happening again. I then quickly realized that trying to educate myself on everything that could possibly go wrong is probably not a healthy pursuit unless I was pursuing a medical degree. I also realized then that not only have I lost my trust in "God", but I have also lost my trust in the medical community.
Up until this point, I have always leaned heavily toward a preference for natural child birth. I believed that our bodies were made to give birth to babies, and as long as you don't try to interfere too much in the wrong way everything usually works out great. I still believe this is the case for most women, but even if my choice for natural child birth hadn't been taken away from me, ironically I would still want every medical intervention necessary (and maybe the unnecessary ones too) for my next pregnancies.
To keep myself from feeling like I'm going to be consumed by the fear, I want to feel in control of the situation. But I'm not sure there is anything I really can do to make sure everything turns out how I want it. The only way I know how to feel in control is to let go and relinquish control. So I have made a choice to continue my ignorance (within reason) and to put my trust back in nature and the medical community. If something should go against our expectations, we will cross that bridge when we get there.
But then the unthinkable happened, and our 2nd daughter's heart stopped beating for unknown reasons 2 weeks from her due date, and she was stillborn.
I still maintained my choice of ignorance during my subsequent and 3rd pregnancy, and then the unthinkable happened again. Our first son was born too early at 23 weeks probably as a result of placental abruption but also for unknown reasons.
I came to a realization today that maybe if I start researching all the horrible possibilities, and our next child or I end up having a problem, maybe we can prevent the unthinkable from happening again. I then quickly realized that trying to educate myself on everything that could possibly go wrong is probably not a healthy pursuit unless I was pursuing a medical degree. I also realized then that not only have I lost my trust in "God", but I have also lost my trust in the medical community.
Up until this point, I have always leaned heavily toward a preference for natural child birth. I believed that our bodies were made to give birth to babies, and as long as you don't try to interfere too much in the wrong way everything usually works out great. I still believe this is the case for most women, but even if my choice for natural child birth hadn't been taken away from me, ironically I would still want every medical intervention necessary (and maybe the unnecessary ones too) for my next pregnancies.
To keep myself from feeling like I'm going to be consumed by the fear, I want to feel in control of the situation. But I'm not sure there is anything I really can do to make sure everything turns out how I want it. The only way I know how to feel in control is to let go and relinquish control. So I have made a choice to continue my ignorance (within reason) and to put my trust back in nature and the medical community. If something should go against our expectations, we will cross that bridge when we get there.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Loss of My Religion
I wish I could let myself be comforted by religion and spirituality. Honestly at this point, any religion would suffice. It would be so easy to just be able to believe and have faith in those ideas.
But I feel that I have crossed this threshold where I will never be able to get that comfort I used to have from religion. Just as when you were a child and found out there is no Santa Clause or Easter Bunny or Tooth Fairy, you want so much to still believe that they are real. But the reality of knowing they are just stories cannot be ignored; you see how they cannot be real; and you know it's true. As a child, this maybe your first simple experience with grief, and just as with grief you are saddened and angered by the loss of the idea. Once the deception is erased and the truth revealed, you will never be able to get that innocence back.
I find myself drawing an interesting parallel between my loss of religion and the loss of my children. Just as I lost my idea of "Santa Clause", I have also lost my naivety in pregnancy. I can never get that innocence back, and I envy others who can go through their whole life and never know what risk they are facing when they have their children. I had that innocence in my first pregnancy, and I look back at it in amazement. I would receive congratulations on my new baby before she was even born! I never found that to be odd until after our first loss. When people would offer their congratulations when I was pregnant again, I would think, "How can you congratulate me when the baby's not here yet?" I'm not a superstitious person, but it almost felt like bad luck or a jinx. I remember reading an article a woman wrote about her experience loosing her baby to birth defects. She writes that pregnancy is not a guarantee of life but rather hope of one. I wish more people would see it this way and really appreciate the gift and miracle they have been privileged with.
But I feel that I have crossed this threshold where I will never be able to get that comfort I used to have from religion. Just as when you were a child and found out there is no Santa Clause or Easter Bunny or Tooth Fairy, you want so much to still believe that they are real. But the reality of knowing they are just stories cannot be ignored; you see how they cannot be real; and you know it's true. As a child, this maybe your first simple experience with grief, and just as with grief you are saddened and angered by the loss of the idea. Once the deception is erased and the truth revealed, you will never be able to get that innocence back.
I find myself drawing an interesting parallel between my loss of religion and the loss of my children. Just as I lost my idea of "Santa Clause", I have also lost my naivety in pregnancy. I can never get that innocence back, and I envy others who can go through their whole life and never know what risk they are facing when they have their children. I had that innocence in my first pregnancy, and I look back at it in amazement. I would receive congratulations on my new baby before she was even born! I never found that to be odd until after our first loss. When people would offer their congratulations when I was pregnant again, I would think, "How can you congratulate me when the baby's not here yet?" I'm not a superstitious person, but it almost felt like bad luck or a jinx. I remember reading an article a woman wrote about her experience loosing her baby to birth defects. She writes that pregnancy is not a guarantee of life but rather hope of one. I wish more people would see it this way and really appreciate the gift and miracle they have been privileged with.
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