Oh, August. Here we are again. You know I hate you. You fill me with dread and cause memories of all of the "lasts" to come flooding back with your heat and your monsoons and your long, golden sunsets. It is as if I am just waiting for you to pass, but I would never wish away time because I know how precious it is.
Truth be told, I even hated that the expiration date on my debit card was this month. I hated having to write it. I hated that my husband expired before my debit card. I hate when people use the word "expired" when referring to a person.
I wonder will there ever be a day when August doesn't fill me with dread? With the 27th of any month come and go unnoticed instead of it marking another month passed since I have seen him, kissed him, held him, talked to him?
A&A are 18 months old right now. Every accomplishment they have had, every step they have taken, every sight they have seen he has not been here to hold their hands through it. To them, Daddy is a photograph. They couldn't identify him across a room by how he walks or his laugh. They don't know what it feels like to be comforted by their Daddy when they get hurt. I still remember what it feels like to be comforted by my dad and I am 33. They will never get that.
At least I still have the memories. I remember our kisses like they happened yesterday - the first kiss and the last kiss. Last week I came out of a meeting and as I was walking to my car, I reached into my purse and pulled out my cell phone to call him. I guess that is just how my mind works. 5 years of telling him everything, of having a best friend who was also my perfect partner - part of me will never be able to let him go.
Now I just have to make it through another August without cracking.
Showing posts with label TMI. Show all posts
Showing posts with label TMI. Show all posts
August
364 Un-Birthdays: A Birth Story (Part II)
...Continued from a previous post.
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I have had to take off my necklace which upsets me. I have worn Tim's wedding ring around my neck and have never removed it. I negotiate to be able to hold it the whole time. The chain is wrapped around my hand and his ring is around my finger.
They roll me the very short distance to the operating room. It is a lot smaller than I expected inside. They have 2 baby warmers waiting. I have already been cautioned about the number of people that will be in there, so I am not shocked. Had I not been warned, I probably would be - It seems like there are 14-16 people present. A surgical team, the anisthesiologist (Richard) and a team for each baby.
I am lifted on my sheet and placed on the operating table. It is a strange sensation because I can feel only some of my body. I suddenly realize my mom is not there but then a moment later she is on my left side holding my hand. She is wearing scrubs like the doctor. She looks cute - if only she didn't have a weak stomach maybe she would have been a doctor herself.
A blue paper drape is put up at about my chest level blocking my view so I can't see what is about to happen to my abdomen. Richard has connected me to more medicine that is running through my epidural. Someone is pinching me to make sure it is working. I don't feel a thing. They begin.
Suddenly I feel the cutting. It doesn't hurt, but I feel it and it scares me.
"Mom, talk to me. Talk to me!"
"What do you want to talk about?"
I couldn't answer - it would take too long. Instead I started singing the first thing that came to mind: Happy Birthday. Fitting, I suppose.
The doctor is pushing down on my stomach. Pressure. Then I feel pulling. A moment later, a cry. My first baby is held up above the drape for me to see a perfect, bloody, slimy little face. As they whisk the baby away, the nurse stops aside me so I can have another little look. Just like I wanted, my mom goes with the baby.
Suddenly, I realize that I didn't stop to think that her going with that babies means that I am alone.
I am crying. Crying because I have a beautiful baby, because I can't believe Tim isn't here with me, because my mom is not holding my hand and the pushing and tugging is starting again.
"Richard? Richard!"
Richard the anesthesiologist it looking down at me from under his big, bushy eyebrows.
"Richard, hold my hand!"
Poor Richard looks shocked like this is the first time this has happened to him. I'm okay with that because I'm not alone on this side of the drape anymore.
Another sweet, blood-covered little face pops over the drape for me to see. I am in love. My mom comes over to talk to me.
"They are beautiful!"
"What's their APGARs?"
"I don't know."
"Can you find out?"
...a moment later, "They are perfect."
Moments later both babies are brought over to me so that I can kiss their little faces before they are driven away in their baby warmers with my mom in tow. They are perfect. Perfect. Tim and I made perfect babies and I somehow held them in long enough for them to be big and healthy. (I would later learn that Ayla was 7lb 0oz and Anson was 7lb 1oz.) Now that I know they are okay, I am dozing off as they are stitching me up.
I hear them giving me a drug that is supposed to help slow my bleeding. I hear that I am bleeding a lot. I hear the word transfusion. I'm so tired that I am very unconcerned. I hear them giving me another drug that seems to do the trick - I'm fine and bleeding is under control. It takes awhile to stitch me up, so I fall asleep again.
They transfer me back onto a gurney - I decided I kind of like the strange sensation the movement gives.
I keep going in and out of sleep. In recovery I get to hold Ayla and Anson together for the first time. They are incredible. Anson looks like Tim. Ayla has red hair. They both have Tim's earlobes. I can't explain why this is one of the first things I notice. Maybe because I loved kissing his ears.
It feels like it is the middle of the night even though it is the afternoon. My dad comes in to meet them. I ask him to get Brittany - I want her to be the first to meet her little brother and sister. I stay awake while she is there, even though everything is blurry. It is a revolving door of family coming to greet the newest little members of our family. I am exhausted. I can't tell you if I am dressed, if I talked to anyone, what time it is. I just know that this is the best day of my life and I have finally met the two people I've known for the last 9 months. We did it together even though we are so far apart.
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I have had to take off my necklace which upsets me. I have worn Tim's wedding ring around my neck and have never removed it. I negotiate to be able to hold it the whole time. The chain is wrapped around my hand and his ring is around my finger.
They roll me the very short distance to the operating room. It is a lot smaller than I expected inside. They have 2 baby warmers waiting. I have already been cautioned about the number of people that will be in there, so I am not shocked. Had I not been warned, I probably would be - It seems like there are 14-16 people present. A surgical team, the anisthesiologist (Richard) and a team for each baby.
I am lifted on my sheet and placed on the operating table. It is a strange sensation because I can feel only some of my body. I suddenly realize my mom is not there but then a moment later she is on my left side holding my hand. She is wearing scrubs like the doctor. She looks cute - if only she didn't have a weak stomach maybe she would have been a doctor herself.
A blue paper drape is put up at about my chest level blocking my view so I can't see what is about to happen to my abdomen. Richard has connected me to more medicine that is running through my epidural. Someone is pinching me to make sure it is working. I don't feel a thing. They begin.
Suddenly I feel the cutting. It doesn't hurt, but I feel it and it scares me.
"Mom, talk to me. Talk to me!"
"What do you want to talk about?"
I couldn't answer - it would take too long. Instead I started singing the first thing that came to mind: Happy Birthday. Fitting, I suppose.
The doctor is pushing down on my stomach. Pressure. Then I feel pulling. A moment later, a cry. My first baby is held up above the drape for me to see a perfect, bloody, slimy little face. As they whisk the baby away, the nurse stops aside me so I can have another little look. Just like I wanted, my mom goes with the baby.
Suddenly, I realize that I didn't stop to think that her going with that babies means that I am alone.
I am crying. Crying because I have a beautiful baby, because I can't believe Tim isn't here with me, because my mom is not holding my hand and the pushing and tugging is starting again.
"Richard? Richard!"
Richard the anesthesiologist it looking down at me from under his big, bushy eyebrows.
"Richard, hold my hand!"
Poor Richard looks shocked like this is the first time this has happened to him. I'm okay with that because I'm not alone on this side of the drape anymore.
Another sweet, blood-covered little face pops over the drape for me to see. I am in love. My mom comes over to talk to me.
"They are beautiful!"
"What's their APGARs?"
"I don't know."
"Can you find out?"
...a moment later, "They are perfect."
Moments later both babies are brought over to me so that I can kiss their little faces before they are driven away in their baby warmers with my mom in tow. They are perfect. Perfect. Tim and I made perfect babies and I somehow held them in long enough for them to be big and healthy. (I would later learn that Ayla was 7lb 0oz and Anson was 7lb 1oz.) Now that I know they are okay, I am dozing off as they are stitching me up.
I hear them giving me a drug that is supposed to help slow my bleeding. I hear that I am bleeding a lot. I hear the word transfusion. I'm so tired that I am very unconcerned. I hear them giving me another drug that seems to do the trick - I'm fine and bleeding is under control. It takes awhile to stitch me up, so I fall asleep again.
They transfer me back onto a gurney - I decided I kind of like the strange sensation the movement gives.
I keep going in and out of sleep. In recovery I get to hold Ayla and Anson together for the first time. They are incredible. Anson looks like Tim. Ayla has red hair. They both have Tim's earlobes. I can't explain why this is one of the first things I notice. Maybe because I loved kissing his ears.
It feels like it is the middle of the night even though it is the afternoon. My dad comes in to meet them. I ask him to get Brittany - I want her to be the first to meet her little brother and sister. I stay awake while she is there, even though everything is blurry. It is a revolving door of family coming to greet the newest little members of our family. I am exhausted. I can't tell you if I am dressed, if I talked to anyone, what time it is. I just know that this is the best day of my life and I have finally met the two people I've known for the last 9 months. We did it together even though we are so far apart.
364 Un-Birthdays: A Birth Story
After weeks of practically begging my OB for an induction, I was scheduled for one on Monday 1/23/12 at 10am. The days leading up to that day were spent furiously cleaning, organizing and doing last-minute preparations for the arrival of our sweet babies. I was rushing around with no time for clear thought or reflection - driven solely by the thought of finally having our babies in my arms.
I snapped a couple last photos of my bare, pregnant belly before I drove my mom and myself to the hospital and wheeled my big suitcase inside. We met my friend Shannon who would be serving as my other labor coach. We entered the registration area where I was met by the same smiling face of the lady who had checked me in for the last many Thursdays for my NSTs. Finally I was here for the real deal. She placed 2 bracelets on my wrist. The real kind, not the thin ones you get when you pay your concert admission.
My step-daughter Brittany, my in-laws and my brother-in-law and sister-in-law were all gathered in a waiting room anticipating the babies' arrival. The world was at a stand-still as far as any of us were concerned. We were all here for one important reason. Today would be the day that all my in-law's grandchildren were born on Mondays. This morning Brittany made her Dad proud by picking up 2 newspapers for the babies to look back on many years from now. The day I finally get to meet the people Tim and I created out of the greatest love I have ever known. A whole room, Department, family, community and loved ones around the world are ready and waiting.
In labor and delivery, I got into comfortable nursing pajamas. 3 probes are strapped to my very swollen belly to monitor the babies and me just like every Thursday. An IV was run and Pitocin began dripping into my body. I had not wanted to be induced - I wanted no Pitocin, having read "horror" stories about it. Now, I just wanted my babies. Up 2 mg at a time, the dosage was increased every half hour.
"Is anything happening?"
"No."
"Anything?"
"No. Nothing."
I reached the max dosage of 24mg with no changes. I am told that I should go walk around for awhile. Go to the cafeteria and eat some food. I knew this was not a good sign. No laboring woman is allowed to eat, but I was not laboring, was I? I ate soup and a big cookie. The soup was good. The cookie was just alright.
Back to the room. Still no changes. Back on Pitocin. Back to waiting. Reading trashy magazines usually reserved for the hair salon. Mom and Shannon are dozing off while I sit listening to their breathing just wishing for sleep and wishing that things would move along. Willing my cervix to dilate so I can meet our babies.
Tuesday creeps in.
There is some progression and the decision is made to break my water. It doesn't hurt. An hour passes before the contractions catch up to me.
"Rate your pain for me."
"Five or six. This is not comfortable. I am not comfortable."
"She's more like a seven or eight."
"Aghhh. This is not comfortable!"
They offer me an epidural. I don't think I have endured enough to justify it yet. Childbirth is supposed to be hard, and this is just becoming hard. I wait.
A little while later I do want that epidural. I didn't know it would take 15 minutes for the anesthesiologist to arrive and drive it into my spine. Those were long minutes followed my a pinch, a burn and sweet relief.
Now they think I can't walk so I need a catheter. Funny thing is I can move my legs freely. Inserting the catheter hurts worse than the contractions had. I'm not numb where I need to be numb. I am getting scared. I don't want to give birth when I can feel my lady parts. I want more medicine, but they can't give it to me yet.
The external monitors are not giving the Dr all the information he needs, so the decision is made to place an internal monitor on one of the babies' heads. It hurts like the catheter did, but the discomfort is lingering. Neither sitting nor laying on my side is tolerable. Mom and Shannon are dozing off again. I'm playing some version of Scrabble on my cell phone. I'm losing game after game.
I'm getting the feeling things are not going well. The nurses keep checking me and my progress is minimal. The internal monitor is not registering and every attempt to re-position it is painful, but they don't want to remove it. When the Dr comes in to check me, I ask him and he agrees to remove it. He is now my favorite person.
It is now nearly noon. I have not slept aside from a small dozing here and there. I am exhausted. A nurse checks me and calls the Doctor to check me. I can tell he is not liking what he sees. He talks to me frankly. The babies are being squished by my contractions that are not progressing. Every step they take to try to advance the delivery seems to set it back instead. The harder I we work at it, the farther I am getting from the vaginal delivery I had envisioned. But nothing about this day is at all what I had envisioned because Tim isn't here like he should be. I am surrounded by people who love me or have my best interest at heart, but I am alone.
He is suggesting I strongly consider a c-section. I am free to continue to labor but he feels that it is not going to get better for me in my state of exhaustion or for the babies who are being subjected to a labor that is not progressing. There are 6 people in the room. All agree that the c-section is the right thing to do. I concur.
The doctor goes off to check the OR schedule. He thinks they can get me in in the early afternoon.
Moments later, the Doctor and a small crew of people come into the room.
"Now. We're going now," he says while directing people to pack up my things and get me prepped. Shannon is gathering my things onto a cart to take to my pre-selected post-partem room. Mom is rushing around preparing to head to the OR with me. I am sending a few select texts to let those closest know I am heading in for a c-section.
I feel a strange sense of relief that I have no time to over think or dwell on the situation. Relief that I am finally about to meet the two people who will forever change my life and my role in life.
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Stay tuned for the rest of the story.
I snapped a couple last photos of my bare, pregnant belly before I drove my mom and myself to the hospital and wheeled my big suitcase inside. We met my friend Shannon who would be serving as my other labor coach. We entered the registration area where I was met by the same smiling face of the lady who had checked me in for the last many Thursdays for my NSTs. Finally I was here for the real deal. She placed 2 bracelets on my wrist. The real kind, not the thin ones you get when you pay your concert admission.
My step-daughter Brittany, my in-laws and my brother-in-law and sister-in-law were all gathered in a waiting room anticipating the babies' arrival. The world was at a stand-still as far as any of us were concerned. We were all here for one important reason. Today would be the day that all my in-law's grandchildren were born on Mondays. This morning Brittany made her Dad proud by picking up 2 newspapers for the babies to look back on many years from now. The day I finally get to meet the people Tim and I created out of the greatest love I have ever known. A whole room, Department, family, community and loved ones around the world are ready and waiting.
In labor and delivery, I got into comfortable nursing pajamas. 3 probes are strapped to my very swollen belly to monitor the babies and me just like every Thursday. An IV was run and Pitocin began dripping into my body. I had not wanted to be induced - I wanted no Pitocin, having read "horror" stories about it. Now, I just wanted my babies. Up 2 mg at a time, the dosage was increased every half hour.
"Is anything happening?"
"No."
"Anything?"
"No. Nothing."
I reached the max dosage of 24mg with no changes. I am told that I should go walk around for awhile. Go to the cafeteria and eat some food. I knew this was not a good sign. No laboring woman is allowed to eat, but I was not laboring, was I? I ate soup and a big cookie. The soup was good. The cookie was just alright.
Back to the room. Still no changes. Back on Pitocin. Back to waiting. Reading trashy magazines usually reserved for the hair salon. Mom and Shannon are dozing off while I sit listening to their breathing just wishing for sleep and wishing that things would move along. Willing my cervix to dilate so I can meet our babies.
Tuesday creeps in.
There is some progression and the decision is made to break my water. It doesn't hurt. An hour passes before the contractions catch up to me.
"Rate your pain for me."
"Five or six. This is not comfortable. I am not comfortable."
"She's more like a seven or eight."
"Aghhh. This is not comfortable!"
They offer me an epidural. I don't think I have endured enough to justify it yet. Childbirth is supposed to be hard, and this is just becoming hard. I wait.
A little while later I do want that epidural. I didn't know it would take 15 minutes for the anesthesiologist to arrive and drive it into my spine. Those were long minutes followed my a pinch, a burn and sweet relief.
Now they think I can't walk so I need a catheter. Funny thing is I can move my legs freely. Inserting the catheter hurts worse than the contractions had. I'm not numb where I need to be numb. I am getting scared. I don't want to give birth when I can feel my lady parts. I want more medicine, but they can't give it to me yet.
The external monitors are not giving the Dr all the information he needs, so the decision is made to place an internal monitor on one of the babies' heads. It hurts like the catheter did, but the discomfort is lingering. Neither sitting nor laying on my side is tolerable. Mom and Shannon are dozing off again. I'm playing some version of Scrabble on my cell phone. I'm losing game after game.
I'm getting the feeling things are not going well. The nurses keep checking me and my progress is minimal. The internal monitor is not registering and every attempt to re-position it is painful, but they don't want to remove it. When the Dr comes in to check me, I ask him and he agrees to remove it. He is now my favorite person.
It is now nearly noon. I have not slept aside from a small dozing here and there. I am exhausted. A nurse checks me and calls the Doctor to check me. I can tell he is not liking what he sees. He talks to me frankly. The babies are being squished by my contractions that are not progressing. Every step they take to try to advance the delivery seems to set it back instead. The harder I we work at it, the farther I am getting from the vaginal delivery I had envisioned. But nothing about this day is at all what I had envisioned because Tim isn't here like he should be. I am surrounded by people who love me or have my best interest at heart, but I am alone.
He is suggesting I strongly consider a c-section. I am free to continue to labor but he feels that it is not going to get better for me in my state of exhaustion or for the babies who are being subjected to a labor that is not progressing. There are 6 people in the room. All agree that the c-section is the right thing to do. I concur.
The doctor goes off to check the OR schedule. He thinks they can get me in in the early afternoon.
Moments later, the Doctor and a small crew of people come into the room.
"Now. We're going now," he says while directing people to pack up my things and get me prepped. Shannon is gathering my things onto a cart to take to my pre-selected post-partem room. Mom is rushing around preparing to head to the OR with me. I am sending a few select texts to let those closest know I am heading in for a c-section.
I feel a strange sense of relief that I have no time to over think or dwell on the situation. Relief that I am finally about to meet the two people who will forever change my life and my role in life.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Stay tuned for the rest of the story.
All I Want For Christmas
I've never been much into presents and that whole side of Christmas. I much more enjoy getting together with family and friends and preparing a big, glorious meal to piling un-needed gifts into the car and going home at the end of the day. I like the decorating part. All the old, symbolic ornaments telling the story of my life as I hang them on the tree. I don't like cheesy Christmas music, but I love Silent Night and I love Mannheim Steamroller.
My ornaments start the year I was born - my mom gave me all my ornaments that she collected and documented over the years, so there's everything from "baby's first Christmas" to a picture from Tim's and my wedding somehow painted onto porcelain. Tim's ornaments are different. Mostly the round ball kind from Target. Maybe just a sign of being a guy, maybe a sign of starting over one too many times and leaving things behind. Last year his mom gave us a special ornament from his childhood. A little handmade ice skate with a paperclip as the blade - from when Tim played ice hockey as a kid. I looked forward to it having a prominent place on our tree this year. Looked forward to continuing to add a special new ornament every year transforming the tree into yet another symbol of our beautiful life together.
I just can't do it. Can't get the tree down, can't open up all the little boxes and hang up all the pretty ornaments. Can't know that I'm wiping off Tim's fingerprints as I touch every decoration. Can't look at the sparkling lights and remember how happy we were last year - how Tim and Brittany and I laughed so hard we cried while we decorated. The contrast is too much for me to handle. God, we were so nieve. I was anyway. I thought we had lots of time. I want to be back in that moment so badly.
My Dad helped me put up some lights on the outside of the house. The ultimate symbolism for how I feel this season: keeping up appearances on the outside as to make everyone else comfortable, but shattered and devastated on the inside. I put some pine cones in a bowl on the table and threw some red pillows on the couch. That's all I can manage.
I'm trying to fill the emptiness by helping my ladies volunteer group collect gifts for a family we have adopted. By sending police themed lego sets to the children's hospital. It's probably good that I'm pregnant or I would probably be drinking a lot in a feeble attempt to drown my sadness. Not the healthiest coping mechanism.
As for Christmas music, you can try to avoid it. You can never turn to that station that plays all Christmas tunes all the time all season (since when? Halloween?). The thing is that all stations will sneak one in from time to time. And every store is piping them in overhead. I've been trying to tune them out even more than I usually do because there are some you expect to hurt like the Christmas Shoes one, but even the cutesy ones hurt so much. I've been reduced to sobs twice by "All I Want For Christmas Is You".
I feel like Scrooge, but I just want this holiday season to be over. I just want Christmas to pass so I can hold my little babies in my arms and be strong for them.
My ornaments start the year I was born - my mom gave me all my ornaments that she collected and documented over the years, so there's everything from "baby's first Christmas" to a picture from Tim's and my wedding somehow painted onto porcelain. Tim's ornaments are different. Mostly the round ball kind from Target. Maybe just a sign of being a guy, maybe a sign of starting over one too many times and leaving things behind. Last year his mom gave us a special ornament from his childhood. A little handmade ice skate with a paperclip as the blade - from when Tim played ice hockey as a kid. I looked forward to it having a prominent place on our tree this year. Looked forward to continuing to add a special new ornament every year transforming the tree into yet another symbol of our beautiful life together.
I just can't do it. Can't get the tree down, can't open up all the little boxes and hang up all the pretty ornaments. Can't know that I'm wiping off Tim's fingerprints as I touch every decoration. Can't look at the sparkling lights and remember how happy we were last year - how Tim and Brittany and I laughed so hard we cried while we decorated. The contrast is too much for me to handle. God, we were so nieve. I was anyway. I thought we had lots of time. I want to be back in that moment so badly.
My Dad helped me put up some lights on the outside of the house. The ultimate symbolism for how I feel this season: keeping up appearances on the outside as to make everyone else comfortable, but shattered and devastated on the inside. I put some pine cones in a bowl on the table and threw some red pillows on the couch. That's all I can manage.
I'm trying to fill the emptiness by helping my ladies volunteer group collect gifts for a family we have adopted. By sending police themed lego sets to the children's hospital. It's probably good that I'm pregnant or I would probably be drinking a lot in a feeble attempt to drown my sadness. Not the healthiest coping mechanism.
As for Christmas music, you can try to avoid it. You can never turn to that station that plays all Christmas tunes all the time all season (since when? Halloween?). The thing is that all stations will sneak one in from time to time. And every store is piping them in overhead. I've been trying to tune them out even more than I usually do because there are some you expect to hurt like the Christmas Shoes one, but even the cutesy ones hurt so much. I've been reduced to sobs twice by "All I Want For Christmas Is You".
I feel like Scrooge, but I just want this holiday season to be over. I just want Christmas to pass so I can hold my little babies in my arms and be strong for them.
Changes
I'm writing this from the body of a woman in her 26th week of pregnancy. There are parts of this body that I recognize, but those parts are few. It seems that everything from my eyes to my toes has undergone a transformation.
This is not a complaint, in fact I have enjoyed watching these changes to an extent. (Yes, I am still lathering on lotions and potions all over my tummy to avoid any lasting reminders of this transformation!)
When I was first pregnant and I "thought" I was showing , Tim and I stopped by the Motherhood maternity store in the mall so that I could buy a shirt or 2 from their clearance rack. I went into their dressing room and discovered something new to me. In there they have a baby bump pillow with a velcro strap to wrap around your tummy so that you look more pregnant while trying on clothes. I laughed and put it on before stepping out to show Tim the top I was trying on. He choked up and patted my "belly" and talked about how he was so excited. Every week he marveled at my changing figure and he was loving it. He would talk to the babies and I would make voiced back saying "hi, daddy!"
Every change that is happening, I know he is watching us, but I so wish that he was here to talk to my growing belly, snuggle me in bed and kid me about my expanding boobs. On the days I feel less than attractive, I imagine hearing him say, "You look great. You always look great" as he often did. Nobody knows what I need to hear like Tim.
The thing I am enjoying most right now is feeling the babies move. We often talked about how cool it would be to be able to see them moving inside me. Although I'm not quite to that stage, I think back to the evenings we spent watching video after video on youtube of babies feet sliding across mommy's swollen bellies and dreaming of the day that it would be us.
Last night I started wondering if Tim can see the babies inside me. I know that thinking too much might not be productive, but I just can't help it. I have so many questions and no answers.
This is not a complaint, in fact I have enjoyed watching these changes to an extent. (Yes, I am still lathering on lotions and potions all over my tummy to avoid any lasting reminders of this transformation!)
When I was first pregnant and I "thought" I was showing , Tim and I stopped by the Motherhood maternity store in the mall so that I could buy a shirt or 2 from their clearance rack. I went into their dressing room and discovered something new to me. In there they have a baby bump pillow with a velcro strap to wrap around your tummy so that you look more pregnant while trying on clothes. I laughed and put it on before stepping out to show Tim the top I was trying on. He choked up and patted my "belly" and talked about how he was so excited. Every week he marveled at my changing figure and he was loving it. He would talk to the babies and I would make voiced back saying "hi, daddy!"
Every change that is happening, I know he is watching us, but I so wish that he was here to talk to my growing belly, snuggle me in bed and kid me about my expanding boobs. On the days I feel less than attractive, I imagine hearing him say, "You look great. You always look great" as he often did. Nobody knows what I need to hear like Tim.
The thing I am enjoying most right now is feeling the babies move. We often talked about how cool it would be to be able to see them moving inside me. Although I'm not quite to that stage, I think back to the evenings we spent watching video after video on youtube of babies feet sliding across mommy's swollen bellies and dreaming of the day that it would be us.
Last night I started wondering if Tim can see the babies inside me. I know that thinking too much might not be productive, but I just can't help it. I have so many questions and no answers.
Week 24 In The Tummy
Today I had an appointment with our OB to measure the babies development via ultrasound. I asked Tim's parents to join me and they were pretty excited to view their very first ultrasound. My favorite niece was also able to come and she was really good at making out the images on the screen.
Ayla & Anson are both in great health. The pregnancy is progressing normally now, and all is well in my uterus.
Ayla is weighing in at 1lb 10 oz. Anson, who looks a bit taller, weighs in at 1lb 11oz.
Earlier in the pregnancy, I think I had shared that I had experienced some frightening bleeding that was the result of a Subchorionic Hematoma. I had experienced continued spotting since the last hemorrhage occurred. Although I know not everyone believes the same things that I believe, it is my belief that Tim took that bleeding with him when he passed away. I'm not sure if there is a process for negotiating or what, but I can imagine him negotiating on behalf of me and the babies. I haven't lost a drop of blood since he left this Earth.
I think that Tim is right here with us and that he has a watchful eye on us and will make sure that the babies are developing properly throughout their time in the tummy.
Ayla & Anson are both in great health. The pregnancy is progressing normally now, and all is well in my uterus.
Ayla is weighing in at 1lb 10 oz. Anson, who looks a bit taller, weighs in at 1lb 11oz.
Earlier in the pregnancy, I think I had shared that I had experienced some frightening bleeding that was the result of a Subchorionic Hematoma. I had experienced continued spotting since the last hemorrhage occurred. Although I know not everyone believes the same things that I believe, it is my belief that Tim took that bleeding with him when he passed away. I'm not sure if there is a process for negotiating or what, but I can imagine him negotiating on behalf of me and the babies. I haven't lost a drop of blood since he left this Earth.
I think that Tim is right here with us and that he has a watchful eye on us and will make sure that the babies are developing properly throughout their time in the tummy.
Answers
Note: We are now all caught up. What you will read here from this point forward are current events, not things that have already happened. I have been taking the easy road by posting things written a while back and I have not been good about making new entries over the last several weeks - please forgive me.
I want to keep an accurate account of our pregnancy not just to share the details with our friends and family, but to help me remember and to be able to tell the babies about it years from now.
With that in mind, there may be some entries that skate into "TMI" (Too Much Information) territory. If something bothers you, please stop reading. I will tag these entries as TMI so you can choose if you want to read them or skip them.
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A few times during our pregnancy, I have experienced some bleeding. There is nothing scarier to a pregnant lady than seeing blood, let me tell you. The first time was really nothing. The second time was more frightening, but I found solace in a moms of twins message board and learned that many twin moms experience some bleeding. Because I was not experiencing and cramping or clotting, I felt okay waiting the 2 days until my next OB appointment and ultrasound to talk to my Dr. about it. The U/S showed that the babies were doing wonderfully, and Tim & I let out a sigh of relief.
Last week while Tim was in the hospital, I had another bleeding episode. This time there was more blood than before, and more fear, too. I called the on-call Dr. at 2:30 in the morning. She gave me her thoughts about what could be happening - none of which required me to go to the Emergency Room, but she did want to see me the following day to help figure it out for sure.
It turns out that one of her ideas was spot on. I have a subchorionic hemorrhage. It is something that happens for no real reason in about 20% of pregnancies and the vast majority of the time, there is no harm done to the babies - just a lot of worried mamas. Nothing I have done caused it, and nothing I can do or not do will make it go away - it's just "one of those things".
My Dr. is keeping a very close eye on us - U/S at every appointment to make sure things are well, and I am asked to call any time anything feels "off" to me.
Honestly, I'm pretty excited about the frequent U/S... I love seeing the babies and their different little personalities. "A" is pretty relaxed, preferring to only move around to get comfortable. I call "A" a girl - she has a round little face and a chubby tummy. She almost always has her legs tucked in close. "B" I call a boy - he is always moving around and not just to get comfortable - he is playing in there - jumping around and really having fun! He has long legs and likes to stretch out.
Our next official appointment will be the big one - the one where we learn the sexes of the babies. Tim and I are over the moon and I know that there are a lot of people who are anxious to learn the results of that ultrasound as well.
In the meantime, I promise that I'm taking good care of Tim, myself and the little friends in my uterus.
I want to keep an accurate account of our pregnancy not just to share the details with our friends and family, but to help me remember and to be able to tell the babies about it years from now.
With that in mind, there may be some entries that skate into "TMI" (Too Much Information) territory. If something bothers you, please stop reading. I will tag these entries as TMI so you can choose if you want to read them or skip them.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A few times during our pregnancy, I have experienced some bleeding. There is nothing scarier to a pregnant lady than seeing blood, let me tell you. The first time was really nothing. The second time was more frightening, but I found solace in a moms of twins message board and learned that many twin moms experience some bleeding. Because I was not experiencing and cramping or clotting, I felt okay waiting the 2 days until my next OB appointment and ultrasound to talk to my Dr. about it. The U/S showed that the babies were doing wonderfully, and Tim & I let out a sigh of relief.
Last week while Tim was in the hospital, I had another bleeding episode. This time there was more blood than before, and more fear, too. I called the on-call Dr. at 2:30 in the morning. She gave me her thoughts about what could be happening - none of which required me to go to the Emergency Room, but she did want to see me the following day to help figure it out for sure.
It turns out that one of her ideas was spot on. I have a subchorionic hemorrhage. It is something that happens for no real reason in about 20% of pregnancies and the vast majority of the time, there is no harm done to the babies - just a lot of worried mamas. Nothing I have done caused it, and nothing I can do or not do will make it go away - it's just "one of those things".
My Dr. is keeping a very close eye on us - U/S at every appointment to make sure things are well, and I am asked to call any time anything feels "off" to me.
Honestly, I'm pretty excited about the frequent U/S... I love seeing the babies and their different little personalities. "A" is pretty relaxed, preferring to only move around to get comfortable. I call "A" a girl - she has a round little face and a chubby tummy. She almost always has her legs tucked in close. "B" I call a boy - he is always moving around and not just to get comfortable - he is playing in there - jumping around and really having fun! He has long legs and likes to stretch out.
Our next official appointment will be the big one - the one where we learn the sexes of the babies. Tim and I are over the moon and I know that there are a lot of people who are anxious to learn the results of that ultrasound as well.
In the meantime, I promise that I'm taking good care of Tim, myself and the little friends in my uterus.
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About Me
- Autumn
- Learning to navigate the unpredictable waters of life as a new mom and a young widow.... still with the sweetest puppy imaginable.
