Thank god my parents came up for the weekend. I don't know what I would have done without them.
Sunday, December 29, 2013
Damn cold. Damn puking.
Got admitted to the hospital Friday for severe dehydration. Woke up Saturday with a fever to match my husbands. Good times.
Saturday, December 21, 2013
Forty-one
Yesterday was my 41st birthday. I spent the day trying to lie down as much as possible as it was a bad nausea day, AND I have another head cold! Urgh. I did cry when Cameron got home from work from relief and exhaustion and hormones, but it wasn't a bad day. Caden and I watched My Neighbor Totoro, he took a long nap, I ate chicken soup and in the end there was cheesecake with candles and my son singing me happy birthday.
The day before my birthday, this article came across my news feed: Fortyhood: Why You're Too Old to Have a Baby after Forty. Of course I had to read it, and upon my first reading, the whole thing pissed me off royally. Her description of motherhood? "think of your worst hangover, multiply it by four, subtract showering, napping, and brunch with friends, and add a baby." She says that in her quest to beat mother nature and achieve having a baby, she never really thought about life after baby. Basically she says she never really thought about being a parent! In general I have empathy for mothers with young children who are struggling, but it is hard for me to find empathy for this woman. She is lamenting the loss of her freedom, marital intimacy, sleep, and energy and blaming it all on the fact that she had her kid after 40. The thing is most moms I know, at some point, struggle with all of those issues. I think when we play the game "if only," we always lose. "If only I didn't have to deal with infertility, if only I'd had my baby younger, if only my baby slept through the night, if only my kid would listen to me, if only, if only, if only " When we play that game, we never learn the art of leaning into what is, and showing up for the life we have.
Maybe this woman would have had an easier time of it if she'd had her son younger, but as a woman who will give birth at 41, I resent her blaming her issues on age and asserting that all women over 40 share her experience. I have always wanted to be a parent. In the years struggling to bring my son into the world, I would sometimes cry seeing gawky teenagers at the bus stop because I have always wanted to sign up for all of it. And in negotiating with my husband whether or not to grow our family, there was much discussion of "after the baby comes" and whether or not we were up for it. And we made a decision. We said yes.
I wonder what her son will think if he ever reads her article. What will he think if he reads that she found motherhood "slightly tortuous?" I am not saying it is wrong to have these thoughts, or even write them publicly, but once you say yes to bringing a baby into the world, you have to keep saying yes. Every time you internally scream no to waking in the middle of the night, to patiently waiting out a tantrum, to cleaning that poopy bum or making that grilled cheese that may never get eaten, you risk saying no to your life, and no to your kid. We have to always look for the yes.
And what a good lesson for me to remember, as I sit here in my jammies with a pile of used kleenex on one hand and a little cooler bag of snacks on the other. I chose this pregnancy, and I want these babies, so I have to find the ways to say yes to nausea, yes to my changing body, yes to fatigue, and also I have to find the ways to say yes to parenting my boy and being in partnership with my husband while weathering these physical discomforts. I found a little window this morning- Caden woke at 5:00 and since I'd recently snacked out of my little cooler bag, the nausea was at bay, and I could be the one to get out of bed and go to him. I crawled into his bed and he said "Mama let's be snuggle bugs." Which meant an hour of me trying to go back to sleep while he flopped in my arms like a fish and we both coughed and sneezed and blew our noses. So we got up and I ran him a bath with Eucalyptus oil and heated myself up some chicken soup. He played in the water, the steam soothing both of our chests, and I ate sitting on the toilet. When he asked me to get into the bath with him, I said yes. We poured water on each other's backs, and when the water grew cold I wrapped him in a towel and sent him into his dad, who was grateful for the extra sleep. I washed my hair for the first time in days, and then crawled back into bed.
I have had my moments of doubt during the last couple of months. It is a mad mission, and it has been hard so far, but we said yes, and so I will keep saying yes. In the end I have never had a single regret about bringing Caden into the world, and I trust that I will feel the same about these babies, too.
The day before my birthday, this article came across my news feed: Fortyhood: Why You're Too Old to Have a Baby after Forty. Of course I had to read it, and upon my first reading, the whole thing pissed me off royally. Her description of motherhood? "think of your worst hangover, multiply it by four, subtract showering, napping, and brunch with friends, and add a baby." She says that in her quest to beat mother nature and achieve having a baby, she never really thought about life after baby. Basically she says she never really thought about being a parent! In general I have empathy for mothers with young children who are struggling, but it is hard for me to find empathy for this woman. She is lamenting the loss of her freedom, marital intimacy, sleep, and energy and blaming it all on the fact that she had her kid after 40. The thing is most moms I know, at some point, struggle with all of those issues. I think when we play the game "if only," we always lose. "If only I didn't have to deal with infertility, if only I'd had my baby younger, if only my baby slept through the night, if only my kid would listen to me, if only, if only, if only " When we play that game, we never learn the art of leaning into what is, and showing up for the life we have.
Maybe this woman would have had an easier time of it if she'd had her son younger, but as a woman who will give birth at 41, I resent her blaming her issues on age and asserting that all women over 40 share her experience. I have always wanted to be a parent. In the years struggling to bring my son into the world, I would sometimes cry seeing gawky teenagers at the bus stop because I have always wanted to sign up for all of it. And in negotiating with my husband whether or not to grow our family, there was much discussion of "after the baby comes" and whether or not we were up for it. And we made a decision. We said yes.
I wonder what her son will think if he ever reads her article. What will he think if he reads that she found motherhood "slightly tortuous?" I am not saying it is wrong to have these thoughts, or even write them publicly, but once you say yes to bringing a baby into the world, you have to keep saying yes. Every time you internally scream no to waking in the middle of the night, to patiently waiting out a tantrum, to cleaning that poopy bum or making that grilled cheese that may never get eaten, you risk saying no to your life, and no to your kid. We have to always look for the yes.
And what a good lesson for me to remember, as I sit here in my jammies with a pile of used kleenex on one hand and a little cooler bag of snacks on the other. I chose this pregnancy, and I want these babies, so I have to find the ways to say yes to nausea, yes to my changing body, yes to fatigue, and also I have to find the ways to say yes to parenting my boy and being in partnership with my husband while weathering these physical discomforts. I found a little window this morning- Caden woke at 5:00 and since I'd recently snacked out of my little cooler bag, the nausea was at bay, and I could be the one to get out of bed and go to him. I crawled into his bed and he said "Mama let's be snuggle bugs." Which meant an hour of me trying to go back to sleep while he flopped in my arms like a fish and we both coughed and sneezed and blew our noses. So we got up and I ran him a bath with Eucalyptus oil and heated myself up some chicken soup. He played in the water, the steam soothing both of our chests, and I ate sitting on the toilet. When he asked me to get into the bath with him, I said yes. We poured water on each other's backs, and when the water grew cold I wrapped him in a towel and sent him into his dad, who was grateful for the extra sleep. I washed my hair for the first time in days, and then crawled back into bed.
I have had my moments of doubt during the last couple of months. It is a mad mission, and it has been hard so far, but we said yes, and so I will keep saying yes. In the end I have never had a single regret about bringing Caden into the world, and I trust that I will feel the same about these babies, too.
Monday, December 16, 2013
Frederick and Mae Mae
This is what Caden has named the babies in utero. He is quite certain that there is a sister and a boy in there. He likes to give them zerberts and to tickle them (this means digging his finger into my belly button as far as he can- ouch).
After the bleeding incident he said "Mama, were you crying because the babies were crying?"
"Well, I can't really hear them cry yet, but I was scared and sad."
"I think they were crying. I will make them laugh."
And he has been on a mission since to keep those babies laughing.
We had on Friday our first appointment with the perinatologist, and it was great on a hundred different levels. That is where we had most of our prenatal care with Caden, and just parking in that structure, walking into that office was comforting. It gave me a feeling of, "ok, here we are. We've done this before. Maybe we can do it again." Their ultrasound machines are awesome! And we got a clear view of both babies, their individual sacks, and individual placentas. This makes the pregnancy lower risk than if they were sharing a placenta. We also got to see little arms and legs moving around! They grow so much each time. They are both measuring bigger than my estimated due date, which means they are cruising right along! Also no one could tell that the SCH ever happened. Wonderful news all around!
Then we got to see Dr. Merrel. I just love this man- I really do. He is so positive and affirming, but also knows his stuff. When he saw us, he said "You guys! I didn't expect to see you again!" Whether or not he remembered us, he had taken time to look over our charts and clearly knew our history. He was the first doctor that I felt like really empathized about the bleeding. When we told him the story, he said, "Wow, with your history. That must have been so scary. Of course you thought the worst. Some women freakout over a little spot of blood, and you really bled. I'm so sorry you had to go through that." It felt so good to have my medical provider get it. Having that that sort of connection is gold for me- when I can relax and feel like a provider understands me, I can let go a little and trust their advice more.
I have been off of bed rest for about a week now, and it has mostly been good to get back into some sort of routine with Caden, get out here and there, but the nausea is still very intense and makes it hard to function. I know Caden misses the former more available me, but we are also finding ways to connect, even though that often means he sleeps in our bed and eats his meals in my lap. I don't mind. He's growing fast now, and I enjoy the closeness. I'm very appreciative of his other relationships right now- his dad, Grommy, Tio, and all his sweet friends. I know he's always loved and cared for even though I can't always be the one who's there for him right now.
After the bleeding incident he said "Mama, were you crying because the babies were crying?"
"Well, I can't really hear them cry yet, but I was scared and sad."
"I think they were crying. I will make them laugh."
And he has been on a mission since to keep those babies laughing.
We had on Friday our first appointment with the perinatologist, and it was great on a hundred different levels. That is where we had most of our prenatal care with Caden, and just parking in that structure, walking into that office was comforting. It gave me a feeling of, "ok, here we are. We've done this before. Maybe we can do it again." Their ultrasound machines are awesome! And we got a clear view of both babies, their individual sacks, and individual placentas. This makes the pregnancy lower risk than if they were sharing a placenta. We also got to see little arms and legs moving around! They grow so much each time. They are both measuring bigger than my estimated due date, which means they are cruising right along! Also no one could tell that the SCH ever happened. Wonderful news all around!
Then we got to see Dr. Merrel. I just love this man- I really do. He is so positive and affirming, but also knows his stuff. When he saw us, he said "You guys! I didn't expect to see you again!" Whether or not he remembered us, he had taken time to look over our charts and clearly knew our history. He was the first doctor that I felt like really empathized about the bleeding. When we told him the story, he said, "Wow, with your history. That must have been so scary. Of course you thought the worst. Some women freakout over a little spot of blood, and you really bled. I'm so sorry you had to go through that." It felt so good to have my medical provider get it. Having that that sort of connection is gold for me- when I can relax and feel like a provider understands me, I can let go a little and trust their advice more.
I have been off of bed rest for about a week now, and it has mostly been good to get back into some sort of routine with Caden, get out here and there, but the nausea is still very intense and makes it hard to function. I know Caden misses the former more available me, but we are also finding ways to connect, even though that often means he sleeps in our bed and eats his meals in my lap. I don't mind. He's growing fast now, and I enjoy the closeness. I'm very appreciative of his other relationships right now- his dad, Grommy, Tio, and all his sweet friends. I know he's always loved and cared for even though I can't always be the one who's there for him right now.
Saturday, December 7, 2013
Mad Mission
"It's a mad mission under difficult conditions. Not everybody makes it to the loving cup. It's a mad mission, but I've got the ambition, mad mad mission. Sign me up."- Patty Griffin
This summer when I was toting around a freezer bag of fertility drugs at Pickathon, shooting myself up multiple times a day, growing follicles, and driving to the fertility doc every other day for ultrasounds, this was my theme song. It is still appropriate for this crazy journey we are on. The babies are ok. They are actually starting to look like babies! There was no new evidence of bleeding or clotting. It was truly best case scenario after the bleeding incident. The fertility doc said it was time to transfer our care to the perinatologists. It felt like a graduation of sorts, such a relief. A few days later though came a phone call from the new doctors urging me to make an appointment as soon as possible because I have "significant risk factors." The reality is that I am about to turn 41, pregnant with twins after over 8 years of unexplained infertility and pregnancy loss, and less than two weeks ago hemorrhaged unexpectedly. It's a mad mission, and this pregnancy will likely be a long haul.
I have been on modified bed rest for eleven days now. It has been a surreal time of reading, eating, sleeping, eating, watching online TV, eating. I have been lonely and scared, confused and sad, but I've also been ok, choosing in moments to be present with all of this, and in others to try and escape it. Friends and family have saved me. They have brought me food, taken care of Caden, sent me words of encouragement, crawled into bed with me, made me laugh, cleaned my house, stroked my hair.
The song that has been resonating the most with me is Shake it out, by Florence and the Machine, although it was brought to the forefront of my musical consciousness by Glee. I have been confused what it is about this song that speaks to me right now, as it is mostly about ending a relationship. Every time I hear it, I cry, and I'm not talking little trickle of tears. I'm talking about a big cry with sobs and a runny nose that gives you a release, leaves you puffy eyed and tired, and for a moment free of that building tension. "And it's hard to dance with a devil on your back, so shake him off, whoa."
I think the devil on my back is fear. Fear of losing these babies, fear of having them. I will admit, I am scared of this pregnancy. I am scared of how weak my body feels, of how little I am able to care for my son right now, of how hard my husband has to work to take care of both of us. I am scared that this will happen again, that I will spend most of this pregnancy in bed and that I will never regain my strength. I am scared that when these babies arrive I will not be able to care for them properly.
"Shake it out, shake it out. Shake it out, whoa."
I spent the months leading up to this endeavor getting strong. Interval training, zumba, yoga, hikes- I feel so far away from that person doing burpees and box jumps in the park, hamper full of sweaty gym clothes. Maybe I will find her again some day. But now my body is changing and growing, demanding rest and incessant food. At this moment I feel nausea creeping up again. It is 3:40 am and over an hour since I last ate, so time to eat again! My body is not my own right now. Surrender, again and again. It is the theme for me for all of it: parenting, childbirth, pregnancy. I'm resisting softening into it. But as Florence and the Machine keep singing, "It's always darkest before the dawn." And truly, whatever this time is for me, it is not my darkest hour. It's just hard, but I never really expected it to be easy.
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