I'm measuring at 33 weeks!!! And I gained 3 pounds since my last weigh-in 5 weeks ago, which is AWESOME news.
My OB is still concerned about growth, thinks Atticus slowed down a bit based on raw numbers, but I'm just going to ignore that until my next growth ultrasound by the new MFMs. I don't trust any of the previous measurements, so...yeah. No use getting too worried about it.
Grow, babies!
Friday, November 18, 2011
Thursday, November 17, 2011
24w4d: So much on my mind
You might think being on bedrest is the perfect opportunity to blog. That turns out to not really be the case for me. I half-write and then back off of posts quite regularly. Some of it is the public vs. private aspect of it--how much do I want to share? Some of it is that I don't quite know what to do with this blog post-birth. Assuming one or more of my babies makes is...how much of their life do I have the right to blog about? And some of it is that I'm so sick of myself, I just don't want to hear anymore.
But two big things. First, I'm very frightened about where I am in my pregnancy. I did not feel any rush of "viability" joy at all. Probably because, despite the 24-weeks notion, there's no real point at which you can say "yes, this baby will survive". Depending on your NICU and...well, whatever went on inside you and inside your baby, you can opt for "heroics" or "comfort" as early as about 22-23 weeks. And more or less, after 28-30 weeks, mortality (though not necessarily morbidity) does drop significantly. But there are no promises. As thankful as I am for NICUs, I don't want my children to have to spend any time, any time at all in them. And that right there is the reason I wasn't just tickled pink at twins. Because NICU is likely, flat-out. Not inevitable, but likely. And the place where I am now...it's just scary.
I don't think I could make rational decisions about my babies' lives. I am very opposed to prolonged, unnecessary suffering. I am also very opposed to not doing everything, every single damn thing I could possibly do, to get my babies home alive. I don't know where the balance tips on those, and I don't know that you ever truly can, in that moment. I am trying to just focus on day-by-day, since thinking about all this beforehand does no good. But just like I couldn't get beyond my fear of miscarriage, I find myself unable to get beyond my fear of stillbirth, of babies dying in the hospital, of months and months of NICU time and just not knowing, of feeling responsible for life-long problems caused by prematurity, of everything.
I could seriously use a fucking drink, if I do say so myself.
The second issue, which is directly tied into my first, is my older sister and her pregnancy. She's never made it a secret that she would terminate a baby with T21. At all. And frankly...in the case of my sister, who in all honesty values people based directly on their intelligence (as measured by the school system and IQ charts, no room for emotional or physical intelligences), this is probably the best decision. No child, special needs or not, needs a mother who will never look at them without seeing something "sub-par". She went in for her NT scan and they were unable to get the measurements, and she is very upset. She's trying again (tomorrow maybe? I am trying to avoid hearing the details of all of this), and if they can't get it, they'll amnio at 16 weeks.
But the part that just...pisses the hell out of me is that she has no worries about T13, T18, or even cystic fibrosis, for god's sake. She and her husband turned down CF screening!! Two white people, unwilling to get a blood draw or cheek swab, but totally willing to risk their child's life for an amnio based on age-risk alone, for the "mental" aspect, not even the physical aspects, of T21.
It just makes me so upset. Driving home from my "Atticus is abnormal" appointment last Monday, I just kept hoping over and over that he was not in any pain. That please, whatever was wrong with my boy wasn't causing him to suffer. (I do not believe that 23-week-old babies do not feel pain. They exhibit so many other reflexes, and kick me when I poke them...I don't care what the doctors say--they have to experience pain, even if they can't show us.) And my sister is telling me she doesn't want to tell her work because "there might not be a baby (by choice)" if the baby doesn't live up to her ideals, without worrying about if the baby is or will suffer from something CF, for fuck's sake.
I am pro-choice. And I do think terminating a T21 baby, in my sister's case, is probably the right decision. But I am so incredibly pissed off at her attitude about the whole thing. It's so clear that she's not thinking about what is best for her baby, and it just...infuriates me.
It's so hard to be in my place, reeling from what turned out to be a false alarm while unable to rest on the "everything will be completely fine" lily pad, while having my sister call me to complain about how they couldn't do the scan and how it'll take her "so long" to know if she can get excited about a baby or not. Oh, and she still doesn't have even the slightest bit of morning sickness, which she constantly mentions as I dissolve Zofran in my mouth.
Blech.
But two big things. First, I'm very frightened about where I am in my pregnancy. I did not feel any rush of "viability" joy at all. Probably because, despite the 24-weeks notion, there's no real point at which you can say "yes, this baby will survive". Depending on your NICU and...well, whatever went on inside you and inside your baby, you can opt for "heroics" or "comfort" as early as about 22-23 weeks. And more or less, after 28-30 weeks, mortality (though not necessarily morbidity) does drop significantly. But there are no promises. As thankful as I am for NICUs, I don't want my children to have to spend any time, any time at all in them. And that right there is the reason I wasn't just tickled pink at twins. Because NICU is likely, flat-out. Not inevitable, but likely. And the place where I am now...it's just scary.
I don't think I could make rational decisions about my babies' lives. I am very opposed to prolonged, unnecessary suffering. I am also very opposed to not doing everything, every single damn thing I could possibly do, to get my babies home alive. I don't know where the balance tips on those, and I don't know that you ever truly can, in that moment. I am trying to just focus on day-by-day, since thinking about all this beforehand does no good. But just like I couldn't get beyond my fear of miscarriage, I find myself unable to get beyond my fear of stillbirth, of babies dying in the hospital, of months and months of NICU time and just not knowing, of feeling responsible for life-long problems caused by prematurity, of everything.
I could seriously use a fucking drink, if I do say so myself.
The second issue, which is directly tied into my first, is my older sister and her pregnancy. She's never made it a secret that she would terminate a baby with T21. At all. And frankly...in the case of my sister, who in all honesty values people based directly on their intelligence (as measured by the school system and IQ charts, no room for emotional or physical intelligences), this is probably the best decision. No child, special needs or not, needs a mother who will never look at them without seeing something "sub-par". She went in for her NT scan and they were unable to get the measurements, and she is very upset. She's trying again (tomorrow maybe? I am trying to avoid hearing the details of all of this), and if they can't get it, they'll amnio at 16 weeks.
But the part that just...pisses the hell out of me is that she has no worries about T13, T18, or even cystic fibrosis, for god's sake. She and her husband turned down CF screening!! Two white people, unwilling to get a blood draw or cheek swab, but totally willing to risk their child's life for an amnio based on age-risk alone, for the "mental" aspect, not even the physical aspects, of T21.
It just makes me so upset. Driving home from my "Atticus is abnormal" appointment last Monday, I just kept hoping over and over that he was not in any pain. That please, whatever was wrong with my boy wasn't causing him to suffer. (I do not believe that 23-week-old babies do not feel pain. They exhibit so many other reflexes, and kick me when I poke them...I don't care what the doctors say--they have to experience pain, even if they can't show us.) And my sister is telling me she doesn't want to tell her work because "there might not be a baby (by choice)" if the baby doesn't live up to her ideals, without worrying about if the baby is or will suffer from something CF, for fuck's sake.
I am pro-choice. And I do think terminating a T21 baby, in my sister's case, is probably the right decision. But I am so incredibly pissed off at her attitude about the whole thing. It's so clear that she's not thinking about what is best for her baby, and it just...infuriates me.
It's so hard to be in my place, reeling from what turned out to be a false alarm while unable to rest on the "everything will be completely fine" lily pad, while having my sister call me to complain about how they couldn't do the scan and how it'll take her "so long" to know if she can get excited about a baby or not. Oh, and she still doesn't have even the slightest bit of morning sickness, which she constantly mentions as I dissolve Zofran in my mouth.
Blech.
Friday, November 11, 2011
23w5d: Viruses? Negative!
So take that, Dr. Quack.
(Well, I was positive for herpes type 1, aka "the cold sore virus", which is no news, since my very first high school boyfriend gifted me with that. Although, now that I think of it, it's been well over 3 years since I had one, so I'm trilled to know it's still coursing through my blood.)
Always nice to know things are good, even when you already suspected they were.
(Well, I was positive for herpes type 1, aka "the cold sore virus", which is no news, since my very first high school boyfriend gifted me with that. Although, now that I think of it, it's been well over 3 years since I had one, so I'm trilled to know it's still coursing through my blood.)
Always nice to know things are good, even when you already suspected they were.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
23w3d: Baby 1, Cat 0
I brought a cat into our marriage. I got her in the Peace Corps, because I love pets. (Simple as that, although her hunting prowess came in handy in keeping my house mouse-free.) It's very hard to bring dogs home from Africa, but cats don't even need quarantine, just to have their shots. And I knew I could never leave a pet behind, so cat it was, even though I'm more of a dog person.
My cat is extremely affectionate, and very smart. (As opposed to the cat my husband got a few years ago, who is extremely gorgeous and exceedingly stupid. I do love him, but evolution would be scratching its head for sure.) She comes when she's called, but I rarely have to call her since she follows me around. If I am sitting or laying, she is sitting or laying on top of me. We're a bit worried about how she'll react once the boys have stolen "her" lap.
Anyway, last night, she was sitting on my lap, leaning up against my belly, getting ready for a good nap. And Damien kicked her in the head. Her whole head bounced. It was very, very funny. She turned and stared at my belly, all "WTF", and then rested her head again. So Damien kicked her again! At which point she turned and put a paw on my belly, all "Stop that this instant", and he kicked her paw. I was dying from laughter. My kitty took a strategical retreat, curling the other way on my lap with just her feet on my belly, in a lower spot. Atticus chose not to provoke her (he has turned head-down, by the way, which I totally felt and it was awesome and also rather bizarre at the same time, and I think all of his movement may have been what triggered the contractions on Saturday). But Damien totally won that round.
My husband takes much more delight in my moving belly than my kitty does. Starting around 19 weeks, he could feel them occasionally. So starting at around 19w1d, he's had his hand glued to my belly. Usually I love it--it's so nice to see how much he loves his sons already, and we've always been very affectionate with each other, so having his hands on me is nice (especially since we can't have sex). He does have the annoying habit of poking them when they're not moving--or rather, when he can't feel them move. I've tried to explain that they do move more than he can feel (and more than I can feel too, going off the ultrasounds, I probably only feel about 70% of their movements), and also that my belly still contains all my vital organs. So getting thumped inside and out is not always high on my list.
I am beginning to understand how people say "I miss being pregnant" or "I miss having {babyname} inside." The decrease in vomiting, the increase in rest, and in the increase in movement I can feel has really made me start to like being pregnant (finally!). It's kind of impossible to describe how awesome it feels to know for a FACT that there's independent life inside of you, life that kicks and moves and squirms and reacts to being thumped by a cat or a husband.
My cat is extremely affectionate, and very smart. (As opposed to the cat my husband got a few years ago, who is extremely gorgeous and exceedingly stupid. I do love him, but evolution would be scratching its head for sure.) She comes when she's called, but I rarely have to call her since she follows me around. If I am sitting or laying, she is sitting or laying on top of me. We're a bit worried about how she'll react once the boys have stolen "her" lap.
Anyway, last night, she was sitting on my lap, leaning up against my belly, getting ready for a good nap. And Damien kicked her in the head. Her whole head bounced. It was very, very funny. She turned and stared at my belly, all "WTF", and then rested her head again. So Damien kicked her again! At which point she turned and put a paw on my belly, all "Stop that this instant", and he kicked her paw. I was dying from laughter. My kitty took a strategical retreat, curling the other way on my lap with just her feet on my belly, in a lower spot. Atticus chose not to provoke her (he has turned head-down, by the way, which I totally felt and it was awesome and also rather bizarre at the same time, and I think all of his movement may have been what triggered the contractions on Saturday). But Damien totally won that round.
My husband takes much more delight in my moving belly than my kitty does. Starting around 19 weeks, he could feel them occasionally. So starting at around 19w1d, he's had his hand glued to my belly. Usually I love it--it's so nice to see how much he loves his sons already, and we've always been very affectionate with each other, so having his hands on me is nice (especially since we can't have sex). He does have the annoying habit of poking them when they're not moving--or rather, when he can't feel them move. I've tried to explain that they do move more than he can feel (and more than I can feel too, going off the ultrasounds, I probably only feel about 70% of their movements), and also that my belly still contains all my vital organs. So getting thumped inside and out is not always high on my list.
I am beginning to understand how people say "I miss being pregnant" or "I miss having {babyname} inside." The decrease in vomiting, the increase in rest, and in the increase in movement I can feel has really made me start to like being pregnant (finally!). It's kind of impossible to describe how awesome it feels to know for a FACT that there's independent life inside of you, life that kicks and moves and squirms and reacts to being thumped by a cat or a husband.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
23w2d: Drama over
Wanna know what the new peri measures my Atticus at? 23rd percentile.
And Damien's in the 54th.
Right where they've been all along.
I am so thankful, and so...emotionally drained. We're now back to having our main concerns being Atticus's placenta and its over-friendliness with my funneling cervix (which is still very long, thank you).
Expect future blog posts about how I'm learning to knit (badly) and my newfound and shameful love of reality TV. It won't be more exciting than that around here anymore.
Thank you all so much for your kind words, thoughts, prayers, etc. during this whirl-wind nightmare of a time.
And Damien's in the 54th.
Right where they've been all along.
I am so thankful, and so...emotionally drained. We're now back to having our main concerns being Atticus's placenta and its over-friendliness with my funneling cervix (which is still very long, thank you).
Expect future blog posts about how I'm learning to knit (badly) and my newfound and shameful love of reality TV. It won't be more exciting than that around here anymore.
Thank you all so much for your kind words, thoughts, prayers, etc. during this whirl-wind nightmare of a time.
My "oops" baby
As in, their big fat fucking oops.
My OB noticed the same issue this morning. (I did do the virus testing just in case, and asked for a full copy of my records.)
Atticus is totally fine. He is awesome, in fact.
And yes, he's in the 14%ile, which is small, but not SEVERE IUGR, as is written alllllllllllllllll over the ultrasound report.
I understand that mistakes can happen. I totally do. And a typo or a mis-read lab report or whatever--happens all the time, I'm sure.
Why I have zero confidence in these people, and thus an ultrasound with a new MFM group in an hour and a half, is because...rather than seeing a huge drop in growth and going, "Oh wow, that's alarming, let's double check it"...they went, "Oh wow, that's alarming, let's deliver 2 micropreemies STAT."
And here's what should have raised eyebrows:
BPD 5.18cm, 21w5d
HC 19.38cm, 21w4d
AC 16.62cm, 21w4d
FL 3.76cm, 22w1d
US gest age 21w3d (how is his age smaller than *all* of his measurements?)
EFW 450g--which they have WRITTEN as "4%ile" but is actually '14%ile". Incompetent jerks.
I mean, seriously? Yes, those measurements are all small, but not a SINGLE one is smaller than 10 days behind. And you want me to deliver? Fuck that noise. Especially after I said, "but he's always been small"...and a simple glance at my chart would confirm that 2 weeks ago, his BPD was 4.6 (20w0d, so a growth of 12 days' worth in 14 days), his HC was 17.8 (20w2d, so a growth of 9 days' worth in 14 days, which is probably the most concerning), his AC was 14.7 20w0d, growth of 12 days again), and his femur was 3.4, for a total growth of 11 days. And weight went from 344 g to 450 g.
My baby didn't stop growing. He did, perhaps, slow down a bit, but not outside of measurement-error range. Certainly not into "deliver now or he will die" range.
And it turns out my Damien's weight is an estimated 609 g. His measurements are all right on track.
I am alternating between extreme joy and extreme fury. And extreme need to go to this follow-up ultrasound, just to be sure.
My OB noticed the same issue this morning. (I did do the virus testing just in case, and asked for a full copy of my records.)
Atticus is totally fine. He is awesome, in fact.
And yes, he's in the 14%ile, which is small, but not SEVERE IUGR, as is written alllllllllllllllll over the ultrasound report.
I understand that mistakes can happen. I totally do. And a typo or a mis-read lab report or whatever--happens all the time, I'm sure.
Why I have zero confidence in these people, and thus an ultrasound with a new MFM group in an hour and a half, is because...rather than seeing a huge drop in growth and going, "Oh wow, that's alarming, let's double check it"...they went, "Oh wow, that's alarming, let's deliver 2 micropreemies STAT."
And here's what should have raised eyebrows:
BPD 5.18cm, 21w5d
HC 19.38cm, 21w4d
AC 16.62cm, 21w4d
FL 3.76cm, 22w1d
US gest age 21w3d (how is his age smaller than *all* of his measurements?)
EFW 450g--which they have WRITTEN as "4%ile" but is actually '14%ile". Incompetent jerks.
I mean, seriously? Yes, those measurements are all small, but not a SINGLE one is smaller than 10 days behind. And you want me to deliver? Fuck that noise. Especially after I said, "but he's always been small"...and a simple glance at my chart would confirm that 2 weeks ago, his BPD was 4.6 (20w0d, so a growth of 12 days' worth in 14 days), his HC was 17.8 (20w2d, so a growth of 9 days' worth in 14 days, which is probably the most concerning), his AC was 14.7 20w0d, growth of 12 days again), and his femur was 3.4, for a total growth of 11 days. And weight went from 344 g to 450 g.
My baby didn't stop growing. He did, perhaps, slow down a bit, but not outside of measurement-error range. Certainly not into "deliver now or he will die" range.
And it turns out my Damien's weight is an estimated 609 g. His measurements are all right on track.
I am alternating between extreme joy and extreme fury. And extreme need to go to this follow-up ultrasound, just to be sure.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Insomniatic ramblings, and could it be?
As I'm sure you can imagine, today has not been one of my better days.
I thank all of you for your thoughts and prayers and grow-baby dances and whatever else you have to throw my way.
Despite being exhausted, I can't sleep. My mind is racing. So I, being an obsessive idiot, turned to the internet.
First, since my last post was incoherent, here's more detail. I belong to an online moms of multiples forum, and I asked them about this, and because my mind is racing, I'm just doing a cut+paste job. Sorry if that's weird. Anyway:
I have di/di boys. Baby A has always been smaller than Baby B, right from our very first scan at 5w3d (IVF babies). He usually measures about a week behind and in the 20th percentile. Baby B usually measures right on target and in about the 50th percentile. Today, at 23w1d, I was told that Baby A is not growing properly.
They would not give me all the details I asked for (just one reason why I am switching providers!), but apparently he went from the 20th to the 4th percentile in a course of 2 weeks. I know he went from 13oz to 1lb even, so he did grow. His femur measured at 22w, I do not know what his abdomen and head measurements were, but I was told his overall is 21w4d, and that he is symmetrically small. His fluid levels are normal, and a cord doppler showed good flow.
I am/was seen by a peri group--different doctor every time, different tech every time. I really did not like this tech or this doctor, even before they gave me the bad news. The doctor was very old, did not know how to do a transvaginal cervical exam!, and did not recheck any of the measurements done by the tech, who only took one measurement and recorded it instead of 3 to average them, which is what my other techs have all done. She also told me she was "new to this". (I didn't question her at the time, because I didn't think it was a big deal.) Anyway, the doctor informed me that A obviously has some very serious problem(s) going on. His anatomy scan was "perfect" and his nuchal measurement at 12 weeks was ideal, so I was a bit surprised by this.
The doctor presented me with 3 scenarios:
(1) Chromosomal abnormalities. Can be checked by amnio, which I am willing to do to guide decision making.
(2) Virus such as CMV or toxoplasmosis. I am being tested for these tomorrow, but I have to say, it doesn't make sense that only one baby would be affected. Better to rule it out, of course.
(3) Placental abnormalities. But growth is symmetric, has been symmetric since they began measuring more than just CRL, and the doppler and fluid levels don't suggest reduced blood flow, so i just don't know.
He recommended steroid shots and delivery at 26 weeks. I am extremely uncomfortable with this, so I called my regular OB as well as my sister, who is a 4th year OB resident. My OB is transferring my care to the University hospital, as she doesn't feel qualified. My sister does not have access to my charts, but discussed the measurements I knew with the peri's at her hospital, and they all advised AGAINST early delivery based off just this ultrasound.
I should have an appointment at the U soon. I am going to insist on another ultrasound to check these measurements. Are there any other questions I should ask? Tests to have run?
Do you have any stories, happy or sad, about experiences with this? Thanks.
ANYWAY.
I was just now googling (I know, very bad) and I discovered two important facts: the U will take my insurance (something I didn't think to check before gladly accepting the referral and my OB's offer to schedule the appointment herself, with the doctor she studied under), and this website:
http://www.baby2see.com/medical/charts.html#Fetal_Weight_Percentile
Now, I realize this is just an online website, but...Atticus weighs an estimated 1lb even, which is 16 oz, which is 454 grams. Which, according to this calculator, puts him in the fourTEENth percentile.
Let me say that again.
FOURTEEN.
That is not four.
Fourteen is small. Fourteen is smaller than twenty. BUT. Fourteen is not pathologic, it is not SGA or IUGR. It's not as worrisome to drop from 20 to 14 as it is to go from 20 to 4. It's possible it was a measurement error, a bad day, or maybe yes, he's slowed down a touch.
But I will absolutely murder someone if all of this stress and fear and tears and doubt was caused by someone misreading the computer screen or my chart.
I realize 1am is not the best time to be making decisions, and the internet is not the best guide, and there is such a thing as denial and of course I would sell my soul to have both of my boys be ok so it's possible I'm reaching here...
But holy fucking shit, if it's 14 and not 4, if things are not ideal but not grave...I can't even begin to think what I'll do.
Please please please, let this be true.
I thank all of you for your thoughts and prayers and grow-baby dances and whatever else you have to throw my way.
Despite being exhausted, I can't sleep. My mind is racing. So I, being an obsessive idiot, turned to the internet.
First, since my last post was incoherent, here's more detail. I belong to an online moms of multiples forum, and I asked them about this, and because my mind is racing, I'm just doing a cut+paste job. Sorry if that's weird. Anyway:
I have di/di boys. Baby A has always been smaller than Baby B, right from our very first scan at 5w3d (IVF babies). He usually measures about a week behind and in the 20th percentile. Baby B usually measures right on target and in about the 50th percentile. Today, at 23w1d, I was told that Baby A is not growing properly.
They would not give me all the details I asked for (just one reason why I am switching providers!), but apparently he went from the 20th to the 4th percentile in a course of 2 weeks. I know he went from 13oz to 1lb even, so he did grow. His femur measured at 22w, I do not know what his abdomen and head measurements were, but I was told his overall is 21w4d, and that he is symmetrically small. His fluid levels are normal, and a cord doppler showed good flow.
I am/was seen by a peri group--different doctor every time, different tech every time. I really did not like this tech or this doctor, even before they gave me the bad news. The doctor was very old, did not know how to do a transvaginal cervical exam!, and did not recheck any of the measurements done by the tech, who only took one measurement and recorded it instead of 3 to average them, which is what my other techs have all done. She also told me she was "new to this". (I didn't question her at the time, because I didn't think it was a big deal.) Anyway, the doctor informed me that A obviously has some very serious problem(s) going on. His anatomy scan was "perfect" and his nuchal measurement at 12 weeks was ideal, so I was a bit surprised by this.
The doctor presented me with 3 scenarios:
(1) Chromosomal abnormalities. Can be checked by amnio, which I am willing to do to guide decision making.
(2) Virus such as CMV or toxoplasmosis. I am being tested for these tomorrow, but I have to say, it doesn't make sense that only one baby would be affected. Better to rule it out, of course.
(3) Placental abnormalities. But growth is symmetric, has been symmetric since they began measuring more than just CRL, and the doppler and fluid levels don't suggest reduced blood flow, so i just don't know.
He recommended steroid shots and delivery at 26 weeks. I am extremely uncomfortable with this, so I called my regular OB as well as my sister, who is a 4th year OB resident. My OB is transferring my care to the University hospital, as she doesn't feel qualified. My sister does not have access to my charts, but discussed the measurements I knew with the peri's at her hospital, and they all advised AGAINST early delivery based off just this ultrasound.
I should have an appointment at the U soon. I am going to insist on another ultrasound to check these measurements. Are there any other questions I should ask? Tests to have run?
Do you have any stories, happy or sad, about experiences with this? Thanks.
ANYWAY.
I was just now googling (I know, very bad) and I discovered two important facts: the U will take my insurance (something I didn't think to check before gladly accepting the referral and my OB's offer to schedule the appointment herself, with the doctor she studied under), and this website:
http://www.baby2see.com/medical/charts.html#Fetal_Weight_Percentile
Now, I realize this is just an online website, but...Atticus weighs an estimated 1lb even, which is 16 oz, which is 454 grams. Which, according to this calculator, puts him in the fourTEENth percentile.
Let me say that again.
FOURTEEN.
That is not four.
Fourteen is small. Fourteen is smaller than twenty. BUT. Fourteen is not pathologic, it is not SGA or IUGR. It's not as worrisome to drop from 20 to 14 as it is to go from 20 to 4. It's possible it was a measurement error, a bad day, or maybe yes, he's slowed down a touch.
But I will absolutely murder someone if all of this stress and fear and tears and doubt was caused by someone misreading the computer screen or my chart.
I realize 1am is not the best time to be making decisions, and the internet is not the best guide, and there is such a thing as denial and of course I would sell my soul to have both of my boys be ok so it's possible I'm reaching here...
But holy fucking shit, if it's 14 and not 4, if things are not ideal but not grave...I can't even begin to think what I'll do.
Please please please, let this be true.
23w1d: Bad news
Atticus is not growing well. Doctors are concerned. Considering amnio to help make decisions. Other concerns are a virus or part of the placenta is not functioning. Most likely looking at steriod shots in 3 weeks and early delivery. Complete bedrest on my side.
Very upset. Consultation with another doctor tomorrow.
Please let my babies be ok.
Very upset. Consultation with another doctor tomorrow.
Please let my babies be ok.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
23w0d: A night in L&D
(Spoiler: Everything's fine.)
Last night, I had 4 very painful contractions in about 45 minutes. And yes, I know the rule is "6 per hour" for a hospital run, but I was very, very scared. I decided I could forgive myself for freaking out over nothing, but not for ignoring something I thought could be serious. My husband was on the same page, so off we went, to L&D.
I apparently get very, very stupid when stressed. They gave me a gown, a sheet, and a belly band. I didn't know what to do with the belly band, so I just left it on the bed. (Hint: it goes around your belly, and you have to wear it because it holds the monitors in place.) When being asked about my medical history and such, I couldn't remember what medications I was on. I in fact replied "none". "No pre-natal?" Oh yes, that. Oh, and Zofran. Oh yeah, phenegran too. And Colace! To "When did you last take these", I answered incorrectly to every single question. I haven't taken my pre-natals in the morning since I discovered the joys of hyperemesis. I didn't last take my Zofran at "noon", which just sounded like a good time.
They asked me how old I was, and I replied, "23". My babies' gestational age in weeks--they only thing that mattered. But not, actually, how old I am.
"Is this your first pregnancy?" Well, I got that one right. But I told them I lost Isaiah at 10 weeks. I have no idea why. The 7w6d is forever branded in my mind. I usually round up to 8 weeks. 10? Came out of nowhere.
And by the way. Everyone, everyone asked "what number is this". Lab techs, doctor, nurses, CNAs. I don't know if it was small talk or if it really matters, but please, read my chart. Because being reminded, over and over again, about my loss, in the week of my unfulfilled due date, while fearing for the lives of my current children, is not fun.
Sometime in the past month or so (and I'm not sure if it was the anatomy scan or the frequent reassurance of movement), I've stopped believing that one or more of my babies is dead. That was pretty much how I felt for the first 18 weeks of my pregnancy. Every time I pulled out the doppler or sat on the table, I was honestly expecting 0-1 heartbeat. That has changed. Although I know (sadly, for my heart aches for these women) that babies do die in utero in tne 2nd and 3rd trimesters, I tend to think mine are alive. So when it took the nurse almost a minute to find the second heart-beat, I did not freak out (any more than I already was). I assumed both babies were alive--I was worried I would kill them by giving birth too early.
I didn't, though. My contractions stopped when I walked in the doors. I had a grand total of one during the two hours of monitoring. But the best possible news is: the fetal fibronectin test came back negative!! While a positive doesn't tell you much, a negative is almost dispositive of no impending labor. I believe it's something like "a 94% chance you will not go into labor in the next two weeks." Which wasn't enough to get me off bedrest or anything, but THANK YOU, CERVIX, for doing your job. And thank you babies, for staying safe in your firmly-closed sacs.
Let's not do this again any time soon.
Last night, I had 4 very painful contractions in about 45 minutes. And yes, I know the rule is "6 per hour" for a hospital run, but I was very, very scared. I decided I could forgive myself for freaking out over nothing, but not for ignoring something I thought could be serious. My husband was on the same page, so off we went, to L&D.
I apparently get very, very stupid when stressed. They gave me a gown, a sheet, and a belly band. I didn't know what to do with the belly band, so I just left it on the bed. (Hint: it goes around your belly, and you have to wear it because it holds the monitors in place.) When being asked about my medical history and such, I couldn't remember what medications I was on. I in fact replied "none". "No pre-natal?" Oh yes, that. Oh, and Zofran. Oh yeah, phenegran too. And Colace! To "When did you last take these", I answered incorrectly to every single question. I haven't taken my pre-natals in the morning since I discovered the joys of hyperemesis. I didn't last take my Zofran at "noon", which just sounded like a good time.
They asked me how old I was, and I replied, "23". My babies' gestational age in weeks--they only thing that mattered. But not, actually, how old I am.
"Is this your first pregnancy?" Well, I got that one right. But I told them I lost Isaiah at 10 weeks. I have no idea why. The 7w6d is forever branded in my mind. I usually round up to 8 weeks. 10? Came out of nowhere.
And by the way. Everyone, everyone asked "what number is this". Lab techs, doctor, nurses, CNAs. I don't know if it was small talk or if it really matters, but please, read my chart. Because being reminded, over and over again, about my loss, in the week of my unfulfilled due date, while fearing for the lives of my current children, is not fun.
Sometime in the past month or so (and I'm not sure if it was the anatomy scan or the frequent reassurance of movement), I've stopped believing that one or more of my babies is dead. That was pretty much how I felt for the first 18 weeks of my pregnancy. Every time I pulled out the doppler or sat on the table, I was honestly expecting 0-1 heartbeat. That has changed. Although I know (sadly, for my heart aches for these women) that babies do die in utero in tne 2nd and 3rd trimesters, I tend to think mine are alive. So when it took the nurse almost a minute to find the second heart-beat, I did not freak out (any more than I already was). I assumed both babies were alive--I was worried I would kill them by giving birth too early.
I didn't, though. My contractions stopped when I walked in the doors. I had a grand total of one during the two hours of monitoring. But the best possible news is: the fetal fibronectin test came back negative!! While a positive doesn't tell you much, a negative is almost dispositive of no impending labor. I believe it's something like "a 94% chance you will not go into labor in the next two weeks." Which wasn't enough to get me off bedrest or anything, but THANK YOU, CERVIX, for doing your job. And thank you babies, for staying safe in your firmly-closed sacs.
Let's not do this again any time soon.
Friday, November 4, 2011
22w5d: Blah blah blog
I really thought I was getting better, puke-wise. I thought maybe 22 weeks was my magic number. I attributed it to two things: (1) twins, so therefore 22 weeks of puking =11 weeks per baby, which is not excessive, so now that I've done an appropriate amount of time per child, my body realizes the debt is paid and we're even, and/or (2) rest. I'm still peeing 6-8 times a night and having a hard time going back to bed after each trip, and tossing and turning and strange-dreaming and hips-hurting and limbs-falling-asleep-ing, and harder and harder to heft my own bulk around...but when my husband leaves for work, I promptly fall back asleep. And then pee and sleep again, and wake up for real sometime after school drop-off but before morning recess (why yes, I do live across the street from an elementary school). I actually thought I'd developed the so-called "mask of pregnancy", but it turns out it was just sleep-deprivation causing the black raccoon guise. So I just might be the only pregnant woman who is actually getting enough sleep.
I spent most of today vomiting up bile. And then worrying that the effort I was expending by said vomiting, not to mention the contraction-like abdominal clenching would hurt my cervix. And sending my husband text messages along the lines of, "If they can save me or the babies, you pick the babies" and "your cat is chattering at my dry heaves, I do not approve, you owe me a puppy".
Being this sick truly, truly sucks. And yet I hope to be this sick till February, at least, because that would mean my boys are still inside.
I spent most of today vomiting up bile. And then worrying that the effort I was expending by said vomiting, not to mention the contraction-like abdominal clenching would hurt my cervix. And sending my husband text messages along the lines of, "If they can save me or the babies, you pick the babies" and "your cat is chattering at my dry heaves, I do not approve, you owe me a puppy".
Being this sick truly, truly sucks. And yet I hope to be this sick till February, at least, because that would mean my boys are still inside.
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