The belly has fully popped. I douse it daily with a toxic-free oil to help it grow comfortably and as attractively as possible. The linea negra--the long dark line that is caused by hormones now extends from way down there to all the way up here, above my belly button. The top of my uterus is now also above my belly button. My midwife showed me how to find it with my fingers yesterday. Feeling internal organs with your hands...yet another strange life adventure in pregnancy! Some days I feel like I'm just wading in time, waiting for my belly button to protrude through my tops. It's like--this is what today is--waiting for that belly button. It's gonna be next level, that belly button pop.
Getting up is slower than before, I use my hands for a little leverage, and my balance is long gone. I'm even clumsier than I was before. I'm also at that stage where people just want to do things for me. Sometimes it feels silly, I do still have arm muscles. But other times, it's really kind and sweet. Especially when my husband insists on doing these things. I have to admit that I do like that. :)
The baby kicks constantly, so much so that I have figured out her schedule. She's very active from about 4 am to 5 am. If I can sleep through the 4 am barrier, I'm thrilled. Otherwise, if I wake up, I'm awake with her. She is also very active in the mornings at about 9 am. And then again in early afternoon and in the early evenings. She typically kicks at night when prompted by my eating a sweet dessert. She reacts to my meals, to loud sounds, to my touch. It's incredible. I can feel her on the outside at least once daily, though she has sneakily thwarted all of my attempts to have her Dad feel her kicking. As soon as his hand is on my belly, she gets quiet. The little bugger! At this point, we can only assume he has a soothing touch. I'd vouch for that.
Because I will now be delivering at CHOP, my husband and I had to say farewell to the midwife practice I was visiting monthly. We were sad to see them go, but we already agreed that next time maybe we'll get to stick with them through the whole pregnancy. I will now have hand-in-hand ultrasounds and prenatal care visits at CHOP. Luckily, I will still get to meet with midwives but it'll be on the same day that I meet with docs, sonographers, surgeons, maybe some radiologists, MRI technicians, nurse managers, you name 'em, I got 'em. It's a big team, but I like it that way. I feel like it's a group of folks who are invested in making sure Little comes out safely and that I don't go loco in the process. As long as someone asks how I'm emotionally feeling, they can poke and prod all they want. And, as it seems, that's the CHOP style--they looked us in the eyes a lot, answered all our questions, spent a lot of time with us, laughed with us, and said sorry and other understanding, supportive things that we needed too. I am pretty jaded by the health system and I feel many docs these days are content to type what you say into a computer, write a prescription, and walk out the door but our experience at CHOP was different. SO, if this is something that we have to do, thank goodness it's with good people who are patient and caring and extremely smart and skilled. We three are lucky. Little deserves it though, if you ask me. Heck, I'd throw a manicurist into the team if she indicated she wanted one.
My partnership with my husband somehow feels like it's at an even newer level. I mean, sitting down talking about your future child is already intense. But having conversations like the ones we had to have over the past couple weeks was altogether mind-altering. During that week of unknowns, the only person I wanted to spend all of my time with was my husband. He was so patient, and we were sharing this sadness and scariness together. He was the only person who could feel exactly what I felt, and how often do we find ourselves in troubling times where we can identify even one other person who can so purely empathize? But for us to do this together, and have challenging thoughts and worries, paired with such necessary hugs and grasps, it made it much easier to tolerate. None of it was anything that we wanted, but we are a team now in a way that I felt like I couldn't really imagine. You don't picture yourself looking at your husband's eyes, talking about potentially losing a child you've carried for five months that's not yet born. You know it's a possibility, a life event that exists out there that people sadly must endure, but you just can't picture yourself doing it, actually having that conversation, and actually looking into his eyes, feeling so hurt because he's hurting, and the heartache of your own pain simultaneously. It's very intense, I hope we never have it quite that way again, but it reinforced for me, this is the perfect person for me because I feel like I can wake up and move around and live because I have this. Geez, I know I'm getting deep here, but I feel like it's yet another piece of a new me that wasn't here before. And it's connected to Nico forever.
Despite all of this, I'm back on track in terms of my anticipation and excitement. I feel very confident and happy and even comfortable learning about our new road ahead. My dreams have changed--they're a bit more scary generally-speaking, and all of the cute furry animals that used to show up in my past dreams now look different. Some of them are missing an eye, or walking with only three legs. In my dreams, though, I am not scared by them, by how they look, nor do I feel worried for them. I just hug them and hold them and I want to care for them. It's a whole new dream world from only a few weeks ago, but I think it shows how my unconscious mind is slowly returning to where my renewed positive thinking currently resides. It's okay, I will be patient. I'll let my dreamworld catch up to where we are now, and the good news we have to work with.
Little is being patient too, I can tell. I swear she kicks when I have moments of worry, when I feel she has been quiet for too long, and it is simply the best medicine.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
The Bump in the Road
This entry is a bit of an aberration because, well, things felt like they fell off track. I haven't posted in a while because I had a lot to emotionally process and go through. With the amazing support of my somehow perfect husband, our families, and our closest loved ones, we got through the story you're about to read. I say "got through" as if it's done. Really, it's not. But where we are now is so far from December 10. Hm, December 1o. I waited for that day for so long, I wrote about it the day before, and then it brought this. Here are excerpts from emails I wrote sharing what was going on with our families and a very small group of loved ones.
"Hi there everyone,
Well, a lot of news to share, some great and wonderful and a bit of difficult news to share.
Nico and I learned at our ultrasound this morning that we are having a GIRL! It was so wonderful to see her during the ultrasound. She was moving so much (no surprise since I've been feeling her move a lot over the past few days) and she even waved to us! She looks beautiful and it was so great to see her on the ultrasound. She is growing fine and she's just the right size for her age--12 ounces. Nico was predicting girl but I was so sure she was a boy! Smile.
During the ultrasound, the doctor noticed the development of two cysts in the baby's chest. This is the first time they were detected. Based on what he saw, there are two possible conditions that could exist: congenital cystic adenomatoid malformation (CCAM) or congenital diaphragmatic hernia (CDH). The doctor says treatment options are available for both conditions, and that both conditions are not very uncommon.
Based on what I've learned so far from the doctor and through a short internet search, the first condition CCAM refers to development of the cysts in the chest which are interfering with development of the lung. It seems that in most cases, the condition is monitored through pregnancy and then surgery is likely soon after the baby is born to remove the cysts. If the cysts grow too much during pregnancy, the doctor can drain them or do surgery during pregnancy. In a small percentage of babies with CCAM, there is one condition called hydrops (blood flow is interrupted and blood moves throughout the baby's body) that can develop that can cause great danger for the baby and can cause serious health problems for me so I know that they will have to do close monitoring through the rest of my pregnancy. The baby may have to be put on a breathing tube soon after she's born until surgery to help her breathe. About 90% of babies who have CCAM have no problems after the surgery. It is monitored while the baby is young, but the prognosis is very, very good.
Here is some more info about CCAM.
Type III congenital cystic adenomatoid malformation (CCAM)
http://fetus.ucsfmedicalcenter.org/ccam/learn_more.asp#a2
http://www.childrenshospital.org/az/Site2192/mainpageS2192P0.html
The more serious condition is called congenital diaphragmatic hernia. In this condition, the diaphragm does not develop properly and there's a hole. Then when the intestine is developing it moves into the chest and it interferes with development of the chest organs. There are surgical treatment options for this condition but the prognosis is not as good as about half of babies with this condition don't make it past a few months old. I feel very sad writing this but I'm going to work hard to be honest with myself about the possibilities. The doctor told us that this condition was more concerning, but that there are treatment options so no matter what we learn is true, we have options.
Here is more info about CDH:
Congenital Diaphragmatic Hernia
http://fetus.ucsfmedicalcenter.org/cdh/
http://emedicine.medscape.com/article/978118-overview
With all of that said, the doctor said he's not sure which condition the baby has because the baby was moving so much. :) One image from the ultrasound appears to suggest one condition while another image suggests the other condition. Other than the cysts though, the doctor said that they baby looks great. Her heart looks strong, her brain is fine, her limbs look great, everything else is in place. The doctor even said everything else looks "perfect."
At this point, I will have to go through a one day of fetal testing at the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia in the next 2 weeks. The doctor said it's a long and difficult day where they will do another ultrasound, MRI (which is fine for the baby), a fetal echo, and then Nico and I will have a team meeting with a surgeon, maternal fetal medicine expert, and case manager. After these tests, they will be able to learn which condition our little girl has and we can discuss options. I also will come in for another ultrasound in 4 weeks with my current prenatal medicine doctor.
The great news for us is that CHOP is one of the top hospitals in the country for fetal surgery and medicine. The doctor told us that he has great confidence in their skills, and the top surgeon in the world for fetal lung surgery works there so we already have a wonderful team right in town. It appears that my dreams of having a natural childbirth in a normal way may not come true, but I'm willing to deliver anywhere that's best for the baby. I know that the place I was already planning to deliver (Pennsylvania Hospital, which is affiliated with CHOP, both under the University of Pennsylvania) has a NICU unit so that place might still be an option. I will do whatever they tell us is best.
Regardless of what happens, Nico and I will make the best decisions for us and for the baby. Nico reminded me that anytime in life, you deal with hard things and often times you deal with it when you are older but sometimes you deal with it when you are young. I feel like our baby is mighty and I'm gonna stay super positive. She kicked me twice while I was writing this email so I think she's sending us a message. :)
We appreciate your love and support. This will be hard but we'll be okay. We are still so excited for our little baby girl!
Love you all so much, xoxo, amanda"
Regardless of my best attempt to think positively after this appointment, I have to admit, I fell into a bit of serious despair. It was shocking to have such utter joy at the pronouncement of the sex of our baby (a little girl! what a surprise!), and then just minutes later the deep descent into a sad, fearful unknown. I remember when the doctor said he saw something cystic--I hardly reacted because I thought he meant on me, an ovarian cyst or something of the like--and honestly, I didn't flinch. That didn't matter. It was when he replied "Oh no, not you, on the baby" in a don't worry kind of tone that I felt my chest heave, my heart crumble. I cried the rest of the day, stuck at work, and I cried every day the following week. I cried at least every hour. I felt so unlucky, so angry, so helpless, and so confused. At times, I felt like I gave up. I thought I failed, I created a poor home for our baby. Why us? So deeply sad, my body showed the effects: I keeled over in stomach aches at least once daily, and had to alter daily plans to accommodate how much of normal life I could tolerate.
I wished I could make my belly look small, so no one would ask about my pregnancy. I dreaded enduring faces of constant pity hanging on others' heads. I didn't want this pregnancy to have an asterisk. I abhorred the idea of adding more entries to this site, I wanted to just shut it down and let it go away. And I tried so hard to not be so overwhelmed with sadness. More and more is being learned about the detrimental impacts of the stress hormone cortisol on fetuses in the womb, and some of it points to lasting effects. I didn't want to hurt our baby, or make things worse, by feeling so upset.
I couldn't help but imagine another reality: I thought our baby might be born and then die, if she was ever born, and I wondered what scary choices awaited us. Our doctor told us that some parents, even at this unknown place, elected to terminate. He discouraged us from doing anything like that without more information, but even his words, every one of them, felt like single punches to my gut.
At moments, I wanted a do-over, a new start for our baby, to rewind conception day and still somehow have our same wonderful baby just start one day later, because somehow, that would make all the misfortune that may await disappear. My husband hugged me constantly, he reminded me that we still had hope, my parents told me that life brought challenges for people at all phases of their lives and infancy was no exception. I sobbed at the sight of girl baby clothes, I felt longing when I saw babies, I felt jealousy when I saw other pregnant women.
Besides the love and support of the wonderful people in our lives, I was comforted by the feeling that my baby felt mighty--I felt like she was strong, she moved so much, she surprised me, she was a special little enigma. I read stories and posts by women who elected to keep their pregnancies going even with very poor prognoses for survival. I was curious about how they felt and how they got through it--I mentioned it to my husband and let him know this was what I was thinking. If we got bad news about her ability to survive, and if she would be comfortable in the womb, I'd want to carry her to term to at least see her face for a second. Just to blow her a kiss and tell her: thank you, you are a wonderful child, you never let me down, I love you so much already.
I confessed to my husband over several days that I strongly wanted us to give her a name. In case something happened to her, I needed for her to have a name. On the way to our appointment of tests at CHOP, we chose a beautiful name for her.
The day was full of both laughs and deep cries. I cried through the fetal echocardiogram. Something about the dark room and the start of the long day just overwhelmed me. During the second test, the long ultrasound, we joked. We shared our prospective baby name, we talked about her like things were going to be okay. And during the MRI (oh boy, Little did NOT like that one, she kicked up a storm at those scary sounds), I felt like I was in a surreal place. It was hard to see so many sick children, but the way the staff treated them and us was reassuring. And we saw two infants while we were there, in hospital beds, being doted on by their parents and nurses, and I felt like a piece of our future became clear. That those next steps were going to happen because she was going to make it.
At the end of the day, we were the last patients in the waiting room. She really was a little special enigma, and it took a whole team of folks to figure out what her little body created. The docs honestly looked baffled all day. It wasn't until we walked into the final meeting of the day that they spoke with greater confidence.
I hugged a big box of tissues, but I didn't need a single one. Everything they were telling us was infinitely better than what I had imagined. Yes, she would need special monitoring and extra care and surgery in her first days, but she was going to be with us. We'd get to hold her. And I wouldn't steal all of her lifetime in my womb. The world would be open to her.
We even cracked jokes in the early evening meeting. When the doc told us he was impressed by the size of her cyst, I said "I'm not surprised that she's already impressing you." I couldn't believe I was wearing a coy smile, our David Bowie looking doctor sneakily smiled back. It was a moment of transformation.
And so, now, we have a new road. There was a bump, well, let's be honest, a detour. We're on a whole new road, with a new hospital, new prenatal care providers (I am switching all of my records this month to commence all of my care at CHOP), a new birth story, but lucky, lucky, lucky us, our same little baby girl. Little, we're with you. I hope that when you read this, you won't feel bad or sad, but just loved. And special.
"Hi there everyone,
Well, a lot of news to share, some great and wonderful and a bit of difficult news to share.
Nico and I learned at our ultrasound this morning that we are having a GIRL! It was so wonderful to see her during the ultrasound. She was moving so much (no surprise since I've been feeling her move a lot over the past few days) and she even waved to us! She looks beautiful and it was so great to see her on the ultrasound. She is growing fine and she's just the right size for her age--12 ounces. Nico was predicting girl but I was so sure she was a boy! Smile.
During the ultrasound, the doctor noticed the development of two cysts in the baby's chest. This is the first time they were detected. Based on what he saw, there are two possible conditions that could exist: congenital cystic adenomatoid malformation (CCAM) or congenital diaphragmatic hernia (CDH). The doctor says treatment options are available for both conditions, and that both conditions are not very uncommon.
Based on what I've learned so far from the doctor and through a short internet search, the first condition CCAM refers to development of the cysts in the chest which are interfering with development of the lung. It seems that in most cases, the condition is monitored through pregnancy and then surgery is likely soon after the baby is born to remove the cysts. If the cysts grow too much during pregnancy, the doctor can drain them or do surgery during pregnancy. In a small percentage of babies with CCAM, there is one condition called hydrops (blood flow is interrupted and blood moves throughout the baby's body) that can develop that can cause great danger for the baby and can cause serious health problems for me so I know that they will have to do close monitoring through the rest of my pregnancy. The baby may have to be put on a breathing tube soon after she's born until surgery to help her breathe. About 90% of babies who have CCAM have no problems after the surgery. It is monitored while the baby is young, but the prognosis is very, very good.
Here is some more info about CCAM.
Type III congenital cystic adenomatoid malformation (CCAM)
http://fetus.
http://www.childrenshospital.
The more serious condition is called congenital diaphragmatic hernia. In this condition, the diaphragm does not develop properly and there's a hole. Then when the intestine is developing it moves into the chest and it interferes with development of the chest organs. There are surgical treatment options for this condition but the prognosis is not as good as about half of babies with this condition don't make it past a few months old. I feel very sad writing this but I'm going to work hard to be honest with myself about the possibilities. The doctor told us that this condition was more concerning, but that there are treatment options so no matter what we learn is true, we have options.
Here is more info about CDH:
Congenital Diaphragmatic Hernia
http://fetus.
http://emedicine.medscape.com/
With all of that said, the doctor said he's not sure which condition the baby has because the baby was moving so much. :) One image from the ultrasound appears to suggest one condition while another image suggests the other condition. Other than the cysts though, the doctor said that they baby looks great. Her heart looks strong, her brain is fine, her limbs look great, everything else is in place. The doctor even said everything else looks "perfect."
At this point, I will have to go through a one day of fetal testing at the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia in the next 2 weeks. The doctor said it's a long and difficult day where they will do another ultrasound, MRI (which is fine for the baby), a fetal echo, and then Nico and I will have a team meeting with a surgeon, maternal fetal medicine expert, and case manager. After these tests, they will be able to learn which condition our little girl has and we can discuss options. I also will come in for another ultrasound in 4 weeks with my current prenatal medicine doctor.
The great news for us is that CHOP is one of the top hospitals in the country for fetal surgery and medicine. The doctor told us that he has great confidence in their skills, and the top surgeon in the world for fetal lung surgery works there so we already have a wonderful team right in town. It appears that my dreams of having a natural childbirth in a normal way may not come true, but I'm willing to deliver anywhere that's best for the baby. I know that the place I was already planning to deliver (Pennsylvania Hospital, which is affiliated with CHOP, both under the University of Pennsylvania) has a NICU unit so that place might still be an option. I will do whatever they tell us is best.
Regardless of what happens, Nico and I will make the best decisions for us and for the baby. Nico reminded me that anytime in life, you deal with hard things and often times you deal with it when you are older but sometimes you deal with it when you are young. I feel like our baby is mighty and I'm gonna stay super positive. She kicked me twice while I was writing this email so I think she's sending us a message. :)
We appreciate your love and support. This will be hard but we'll be okay. We are still so excited for our little baby girl!
Love you all so much, xoxo, amanda"
Regardless of my best attempt to think positively after this appointment, I have to admit, I fell into a bit of serious despair. It was shocking to have such utter joy at the pronouncement of the sex of our baby (a little girl! what a surprise!), and then just minutes later the deep descent into a sad, fearful unknown. I remember when the doctor said he saw something cystic--I hardly reacted because I thought he meant on me, an ovarian cyst or something of the like--and honestly, I didn't flinch. That didn't matter. It was when he replied "Oh no, not you, on the baby" in a don't worry kind of tone that I felt my chest heave, my heart crumble. I cried the rest of the day, stuck at work, and I cried every day the following week. I cried at least every hour. I felt so unlucky, so angry, so helpless, and so confused. At times, I felt like I gave up. I thought I failed, I created a poor home for our baby. Why us? So deeply sad, my body showed the effects: I keeled over in stomach aches at least once daily, and had to alter daily plans to accommodate how much of normal life I could tolerate.
I wished I could make my belly look small, so no one would ask about my pregnancy. I dreaded enduring faces of constant pity hanging on others' heads. I didn't want this pregnancy to have an asterisk. I abhorred the idea of adding more entries to this site, I wanted to just shut it down and let it go away. And I tried so hard to not be so overwhelmed with sadness. More and more is being learned about the detrimental impacts of the stress hormone cortisol on fetuses in the womb, and some of it points to lasting effects. I didn't want to hurt our baby, or make things worse, by feeling so upset.
I couldn't help but imagine another reality: I thought our baby might be born and then die, if she was ever born, and I wondered what scary choices awaited us. Our doctor told us that some parents, even at this unknown place, elected to terminate. He discouraged us from doing anything like that without more information, but even his words, every one of them, felt like single punches to my gut.
At moments, I wanted a do-over, a new start for our baby, to rewind conception day and still somehow have our same wonderful baby just start one day later, because somehow, that would make all the misfortune that may await disappear. My husband hugged me constantly, he reminded me that we still had hope, my parents told me that life brought challenges for people at all phases of their lives and infancy was no exception. I sobbed at the sight of girl baby clothes, I felt longing when I saw babies, I felt jealousy when I saw other pregnant women.
Besides the love and support of the wonderful people in our lives, I was comforted by the feeling that my baby felt mighty--I felt like she was strong, she moved so much, she surprised me, she was a special little enigma. I read stories and posts by women who elected to keep their pregnancies going even with very poor prognoses for survival. I was curious about how they felt and how they got through it--I mentioned it to my husband and let him know this was what I was thinking. If we got bad news about her ability to survive, and if she would be comfortable in the womb, I'd want to carry her to term to at least see her face for a second. Just to blow her a kiss and tell her: thank you, you are a wonderful child, you never let me down, I love you so much already.
I confessed to my husband over several days that I strongly wanted us to give her a name. In case something happened to her, I needed for her to have a name. On the way to our appointment of tests at CHOP, we chose a beautiful name for her.
"Hi all, here's a detailed update on the baby.
Nico and I are so thankful for all of your kind words of support as we dealt with a rough week of wondering what was wrong with our baby. It really meant so much to us to hear from you all.
As you know, a cystic mass was found in the baby’s chest at her 20 week ultrasound. At that time, the cyst was estimated to be either a case of CCAM or CDH, both of which are fairly serious conditions in which the cyst can interfere severely with lung and heart development and/or proper placement of lower abdomen organs like the stomach and intestines.
We were very, very excited to learn yesterday after a long day of tests at Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia (CHOP) that the baby has NEITHER of these conditions. Instead, her current diagnosis is congenital esophageal duplication cyst. Here’s all the info I’ve learned in the last 24 hours.
It’s a cyst that forms along the wall of the esophagus, and it’s called a duplication cyst because it follows the shape and build of the esophagus, almost like a copy of the esophagus. This condition is very rare—it only shows up in about 1 in 8,200 births. There is not a lot of research about it (most studies I have been able to find regarding detection and treatment are dated in the 2000s). It likely developed sometime during the 7th week of pregnancy, and to date it is most common in white mothers who are older and having their first children.
Nico and I knew that even up until the end of the day yesterday that the doctors were having a difficult time figuring out what was going on. Before the doctor would meet with us, he said that he wanted the feedback of a newborn surgeon before talking to us. We were the last patients waiting, so we knew it was not a cut and dry case. In our meeting with the docs, they explained to us that it was difficult to diagnose the cyst because it is large. Usually, they appear smaller, and according to what I’ve read so far, they often are not even diagnosed until after the baby is born.
The prognosis for the baby is very, very good. Essentially, the baby will need surgery soon after she is born to remove the cyst. If the cyst is not removed it can cause respiratory problems and feeding problems, but cases show that once the cyst is removed, the symptoms are gone and there are really no long-term problems. The surgeon told us that she’ll likely have acid reflux, but that was the only long-term issue they mentioned.
It’s good for us that it was discovered so early. At this point, the plan is for me to report to ultrasound appointments every two weeks so they can monitor the size of the cyst. Half of these ultrasounds will be at CHOP and the other half will be at my normal maternal-fetal medicine doctor. Once I’m 34 weeks along, all of my prenatal care will be done at CHOP as they prepare for delivery.
Right now, the cyst is near the baby’s back so it is not interfering with development of her lungs and heart—which is GREAT news. They did a fetal echocardiogram yesterday and they said that her heart looks great. The monitoring will keep an eye out to make sure it’s size does not grow so large that it interferes with lungs and heart and to make sure that it doesn’t break into the wall of the esophagus. If it grows too large, they will have to drain the cyst before the baby’s born.
Another complication that they will be looking out for is called polyhydramnios, which happens when the baby can’t swallow enough amniotic fluid and there’s a buildup of fluid in the placenta. If the cyst interferes with the baby’s ability to swallow fluid, this condition can occur. I can go into preterm labor if this happens. They will be monitoring the amount of fluid in the placenta, and they can relieve some fluid if needed.
Because sometimes the cyst can cause early problems with breathing, etc, they want her to be delivered at CHOP. They built a brand new maternity ward there 2 years ago so that moms and dads could stay near their newborns who need advanced medical care instead of recovering at another hospital across town. This way, I’ll be able to see her while I am recovering in the hospital after she is delivered. AND they have a lactation unit so they will help me be able to feed her breastmilk very early on. Being at separate hospitals would make that almost impossible.
We don’t know anything yet about what precautions they’ll need to take during delivery, but they know that my earlier hopes were to have a natural childbirth. I’m sure they ‘ll have to do a fair amount of medical monitoring but CHOP has its own midwives and they made it sound like I may still be able to keep some elements of what I had hoped for as part of my delivery experience. Of course, if they tell me they want to do an emergency c-section, then I’m all in. I want them to do WHATEVER they need to do to keep the baby safe and healthy.
The delivery unit at CHOP looks really nice. And Nico will be able to stay overnight with me while I’m there, which is great. Each delivering mom has her own family room. Nico and I had a really great experience with the doctors and staff there. They were very attentive and helpful and emotionally present during a difficult day for us. They remembered to say things to keep our spirits up while we were in the tests and they understood when I just needed to cry. I think overall this will be a really great birth experience and we’re relieved to have such skilled doctors so close to home.
It’ll be hard to see the baby go into surgery so young, but there are only a few places in the country where folks could feel really confident about newborn surgery and CHOP is at the top of the list so we are in good hands. I already know from yesterday that the baby does NOT like MRIs (she was kicking up a crazy storm when I was in the machine) but the MRI area yesterday had at least two babies there so I know CHOP folks are skilled at helping newborns through it.
One of the gifts I took from yesterday, besides our great, relieving news, is that we got to spend a lot of time with the baby. We watched her on ultrasound for hours, and we got to see her on 3D ultrasound and bring home cute 3D pictures of her face and hands and little body. She is already a beauty, and we cannot wait to hold her.
We’ll be sure to keep you posted as things progress. We will probably have some tough moments ahead, but it’s what we can handle. Thanks so much Debby for reminding me of that—we are not given more than we can handle. Even though there are some concerns for her, this is so much different than the scary things that we imagined. We can handle what comes next.
Hearing from you all made both of us feel better along the way and your emails and well wishes were really helpful. You kept positive thoughts in our minds, I really needed that!
Mom and Dad, after we talked on vp on Sunday morning I felt like I could get through the day so much better. That’s what made me feel okay about posting on FB that we knew she was a girl. Before that, I was dreading anyone asking me about the pregnancy.
Much love to all and thanks so much. Hugs!
Xoxo, amanda"
At the end of the day, we were the last patients in the waiting room. She really was a little special enigma, and it took a whole team of folks to figure out what her little body created. The docs honestly looked baffled all day. It wasn't until we walked into the final meeting of the day that they spoke with greater confidence.
I hugged a big box of tissues, but I didn't need a single one. Everything they were telling us was infinitely better than what I had imagined. Yes, she would need special monitoring and extra care and surgery in her first days, but she was going to be with us. We'd get to hold her. And I wouldn't steal all of her lifetime in my womb. The world would be open to her.
We even cracked jokes in the early evening meeting. When the doc told us he was impressed by the size of her cyst, I said "I'm not surprised that she's already impressing you." I couldn't believe I was wearing a coy smile, our David Bowie looking doctor sneakily smiled back. It was a moment of transformation.
And so, now, we have a new road. There was a bump, well, let's be honest, a detour. We're on a whole new road, with a new hospital, new prenatal care providers (I am switching all of my records this month to commence all of my care at CHOP), a new birth story, but lucky, lucky, lucky us, our same little baby girl. Little, we're with you. I hope that when you read this, you won't feel bad or sad, but just loved. And special.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
20 Weeks - Halfway
On Saturday, I will officially be halfway through my pregnancy. Wow, time flies when you're having fun! (Readers beware, I'm in a silly happy mood today.)
These days, I'm still enjoying the second trimester high. I find myself awake at midnight every now and then. I've been busy every evening this week visiting with pals, eating at new restaurants, doing fun activities, and right now I feel just fine. This is a whole new pregnant woman, people!
The belly is definitely growing. Last week was the belly bump's true coming out party at work. I wore one of my first non-empire waist flowy tops and the belly made a darling debut. Now many of my colleagues know that I'm expecting, and I won't have to sweat too many awkward conversations about why my plans seem to stop abruptly at the end of April.
Thanks to the winter coat (it looks like a big trash bag, wah), the outside public is still clueless. But folks at the gym have noticed too. I got some serious stares when I headed up to the weight room last week. I usually stick to my work out classes, you see, and those folks have known for a while, but I've had to cut out two of my regular classes because they aren't pregnant-friendly. So when I headed up to the weight machines, it felt like I had clown make-up on. Folks were staring! Yes, it's true...you don't see a lot of pregnant women at the gym. It's too bad, exercise is so good for us. Despite that, people have a lot of misconceptions about what exercise is acceptable and I'm sure that adding a pregnant woman to the weight-liftin' humanozone was a bit taboo. Anyway, I came within seconds of asking one lady: What are you lookin' at? but I controlled myself. It was good anyway, because I had to negotiate with her for one of the arms machines five minutes later. But it was hard, I tell ya, real hard. In any case, I feel like I'm modifying my exercise very well: no more big jumping (I do the seniors version of the jumping jack--it's kind of cute), no more laying on my back, no more ultra balance work where I could fall. It's pretty simple, and my instructors have been good at giving me ideas when I need them. Last night, I went to a spinning class with an MJ-only soundtrack. I felt awesome. And, in those moments, when the exercise is hurting in that good way, I think to myself: YOU CAN HANDLE LABOR, MANDA! SEE! And the proof is in the pudding, far as I'm concerned.
Oh and my dreams, these precious dreams. They are ALL about babies, children, rescuing children, small animals, rescuing small animals, and, yes, even impersonating children. I dreamt a few nights ago that my pal Kayshin and I were in a performance of Charlie Brown. She was Charlie Brown. Right before we went on stage, I exclaimed to her that I was so afraid, I didn't know my lines, what would I do?! And she said, it's okay, just do this: and dipped her hands into a bowl of melted chocolate and mushed it all over my face. And she mushed it on her face. And we went on stage, talked like little children, with chocolate on our faces, and the crowd loved us. Suzy also ran up on stage during the play and said that the IT Helpdesk was shut down (yep, strange), but then apologized for interrupting us and we continued in our child-like performance. It was a joyous dream! Chocolate on our faces! Giggleworthy. I dream that all of you have children, and sometimes, they come out as little animals, but we love and play with them nonetheless. My dreamworld is a pretty happy, fantastical place.
And, boy, does this baby move. As of literally this week, I feel the baby move everyday. He or she throws bubbles and flips and turns and all kinds of things. Sometimes, baby moves for like two hours straight. Other times, I can only sense a move and then quiet. For the first time, I felt the baby moving from the outside. How exciting. In no time, I'll be cell phone videotaping Little's Spaceballs alien dance from within my belly. Creeeepy, and wonderful!
And now, I turn to Little. Dearest Little, tomorrow I learn your sex (yep, ultrasound number two has arrived). As long as you cooperate, of course. No matter what you are, and how I've imagined you and dreamed you (as a kitten, puppy, and butterfly with a boy's head), I will love you. It will be a most wonderful surprise, one of those few surprises you can anticipate and feel excited about, but it's a shocking, jaw-stretching surprise nonetheless. You see, Little, everything is very different from what I might have imagined very long ago. I used to talk about having you all to myself, no daddy in sight, and you were of course always a girl. You and I were going to rebel, take over world authority, and plant trees and imprison bad men and alternatingly read Simone de Beauvoir and Michelle Tea. But, guess what, Little, there's a daddy! Surprise! Ha, got you too! He has become, somehow, an even more wonderful husband than I could imagine (oh boy, tearing up now), and the things that he and I talk about and think about now feel much more deep and surreal than the imaginary moments you and I would achieve on our own. So, it's an even better arrangement. And, suppose, just suppose, that you are a boy. Well, that would really turn that whole vision on its feet. But I have no doubt that you'll be more feminist and overall, just more wonderful, that the imaginary girl I raised long ago. I cannot wait to learn what you are because either way it will be the best gift of the season, a moment that'll stay with me forever. I'll try to keep it frozen in my heart and mind when I hear the word. So, in advance, Little, thank you very, very much. You've already made life grand.
AND, you breathe water. You are SO awesome.
These days, I'm still enjoying the second trimester high. I find myself awake at midnight every now and then. I've been busy every evening this week visiting with pals, eating at new restaurants, doing fun activities, and right now I feel just fine. This is a whole new pregnant woman, people!
The belly is definitely growing. Last week was the belly bump's true coming out party at work. I wore one of my first non-empire waist flowy tops and the belly made a darling debut. Now many of my colleagues know that I'm expecting, and I won't have to sweat too many awkward conversations about why my plans seem to stop abruptly at the end of April.
Thanks to the winter coat (it looks like a big trash bag, wah), the outside public is still clueless. But folks at the gym have noticed too. I got some serious stares when I headed up to the weight room last week. I usually stick to my work out classes, you see, and those folks have known for a while, but I've had to cut out two of my regular classes because they aren't pregnant-friendly. So when I headed up to the weight machines, it felt like I had clown make-up on. Folks were staring! Yes, it's true...you don't see a lot of pregnant women at the gym. It's too bad, exercise is so good for us. Despite that, people have a lot of misconceptions about what exercise is acceptable and I'm sure that adding a pregnant woman to the weight-liftin' humanozone was a bit taboo. Anyway, I came within seconds of asking one lady: What are you lookin' at? but I controlled myself. It was good anyway, because I had to negotiate with her for one of the arms machines five minutes later. But it was hard, I tell ya, real hard. In any case, I feel like I'm modifying my exercise very well: no more big jumping (I do the seniors version of the jumping jack--it's kind of cute), no more laying on my back, no more ultra balance work where I could fall. It's pretty simple, and my instructors have been good at giving me ideas when I need them. Last night, I went to a spinning class with an MJ-only soundtrack. I felt awesome. And, in those moments, when the exercise is hurting in that good way, I think to myself: YOU CAN HANDLE LABOR, MANDA! SEE! And the proof is in the pudding, far as I'm concerned.
Oh and my dreams, these precious dreams. They are ALL about babies, children, rescuing children, small animals, rescuing small animals, and, yes, even impersonating children. I dreamt a few nights ago that my pal Kayshin and I were in a performance of Charlie Brown. She was Charlie Brown. Right before we went on stage, I exclaimed to her that I was so afraid, I didn't know my lines, what would I do?! And she said, it's okay, just do this: and dipped her hands into a bowl of melted chocolate and mushed it all over my face. And she mushed it on her face. And we went on stage, talked like little children, with chocolate on our faces, and the crowd loved us. Suzy also ran up on stage during the play and said that the IT Helpdesk was shut down (yep, strange), but then apologized for interrupting us and we continued in our child-like performance. It was a joyous dream! Chocolate on our faces! Giggleworthy. I dream that all of you have children, and sometimes, they come out as little animals, but we love and play with them nonetheless. My dreamworld is a pretty happy, fantastical place.
And, boy, does this baby move. As of literally this week, I feel the baby move everyday. He or she throws bubbles and flips and turns and all kinds of things. Sometimes, baby moves for like two hours straight. Other times, I can only sense a move and then quiet. For the first time, I felt the baby moving from the outside. How exciting. In no time, I'll be cell phone videotaping Little's Spaceballs alien dance from within my belly. Creeeepy, and wonderful!
And now, I turn to Little. Dearest Little, tomorrow I learn your sex (yep, ultrasound number two has arrived). As long as you cooperate, of course. No matter what you are, and how I've imagined you and dreamed you (as a kitten, puppy, and butterfly with a boy's head), I will love you. It will be a most wonderful surprise, one of those few surprises you can anticipate and feel excited about, but it's a shocking, jaw-stretching surprise nonetheless. You see, Little, everything is very different from what I might have imagined very long ago. I used to talk about having you all to myself, no daddy in sight, and you were of course always a girl. You and I were going to rebel, take over world authority, and plant trees and imprison bad men and alternatingly read Simone de Beauvoir and Michelle Tea. But, guess what, Little, there's a daddy! Surprise! Ha, got you too! He has become, somehow, an even more wonderful husband than I could imagine (oh boy, tearing up now), and the things that he and I talk about and think about now feel much more deep and surreal than the imaginary moments you and I would achieve on our own. So, it's an even better arrangement. And, suppose, just suppose, that you are a boy. Well, that would really turn that whole vision on its feet. But I have no doubt that you'll be more feminist and overall, just more wonderful, that the imaginary girl I raised long ago. I cannot wait to learn what you are because either way it will be the best gift of the season, a moment that'll stay with me forever. I'll try to keep it frozen in my heart and mind when I hear the word. So, in advance, Little, thank you very, very much. You've already made life grand.
AND, you breathe water. You are SO awesome.
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