Rainbow Baby Archer!

"I have been reading this blog for quite a while. I hope you are holding baby Archer and loving every minute of being his mom."

Thank you dear reader!  Haven't updated in nearly 3 months, but with good reason!  Most important things first - I am overjoyed to announce our rainbow baby Archer Thomas made his way into the world screaming and 100% healthy!

My sister took these professional pictures, and made awesome month signs for his entire first year!

So, the experience - I was at my wits end towards the last few weeks of the pregnancy.  Basically my pelvic floor had dropped out and Archer was sitting on my cervix, so walking was fun and going upstairs was excruciating.  I'm sure I drove my poor husband bonkers with the mood swings, insomnia, heartburn, aches & pains, etc.  

My due date was set for July 5th, but the plan was always for me to be induced once I hit 37 weeks (less of a chance for a late term blood clot).  The date was set for June 17th, and as it grew closer I developed the worst case of "senioritis" imaginable.  Biweekly non-stress tests and ob visits had me praying for normal results but with the added bonus of "hey, look, your water broke, let's go!"  Being pregnant the same time as at least 8 other women I knew had me in happy with a twinge of jealousy tears every time their babies were delivered. 

By my last regular ob appointment, I was in tears walking through the parking lot.  Walking is being generous - I was taking baby steps, cringing and cursing the Florida summer heat with every footfall.  My ob determined I was 2 cm dialated and 60% effaced, and did a membrane sweep.  I was advised to take a walk and return later that day for a recheck, so I took the most painful 3 hour walk around the closest indoor mall, called the husband to come meet me and headed back.  No change, and a parking ticket to boot (expired registration - thanks, hospital!)  Sent home only to return that weekend thinking I was having contractions.  Nope - he was KICKING THE CRAP OUT OF ME.  

I'm ashamed to say I comfort-ate more fast foods that week than is probably healthy or permissible in several states, but I was beyond trying to cook or do anything other than pass out at the end of a long day.  The day before my induction was set, since it had become obvious I wasn't going into labor naturally, I took Parker to the museum as a final "only-child outing" - he had a blast learning about Megalodon and interacting with a snake and gopher tortoise in the reptile room.  Fortunately I was able to sit most of the time.

The morning of induction arrived and I took the only picture of my belly that exists from Archer's pregnancy.

5:30 am, getting ready to leave for the hospital!

We headed to the hospital and got hooked up and started on pitocin around 8 am.  True to form, my labor lasted 8 hours (same for Parker and Coraline).  At around 3:49 I knew it was time - I went from 6 to 10 cm in about 20 seconds and my ob was slapping her gloves on walking in the room. The contractions were hellacious up until my epidural, but the delivery went amazingly quick - I pushed maybe one and a half times and at 4:09 pm, Archer made his way into the world.  I will never forget the look on my husband's face - the relief, the joy, the happiness.  It was totally worth the 8 months of hell I'd been through.  

Archer weighed 6 lbs 11 oz and was 19 inches long.  Ten fingers, ten toes, a good set of lungs on him and a full head of hair.  He looked so much like Coraline.  He took to breastfeeding right away and spent the first few hours just cooing and making noises in his bassinet. I'm not even going to dignify the next day and the terrible experience I had with the hospital making me switch rooms - instead, let me just say that my first meal post-baby and fasting all day (steak and potatoes from Applebees) was seriously amazing because I wasn't touching the hospital food (except for breakfast, that was okay).

It's been almost two months (holy CRAP that went by quickly) and we've settled into a nice routine.  I'm due to go back to work after Labor Day, and even though I'd love to stay home and love on my little guy, there's things like a mortgage and car payments to be made.  Oh yeah - we closed on our house, so I'll post those pics once I get it all viewer-friendly (not easy to do with a newborn in tow).  Parker starts MIDDLE SCHOOL next week (yikes) and Archer is all set for daycare at the same place we originally chose for Coraline - they remembered us when we went back and waived the application fee.  It makes me feel better about returning to work knowing he will be in good hands - one of the two top rated daycares in our zip code with a GREAT infant care room. 

And now - PICTURE BOMBS!

Mommy and Archer!

Big brother Parker! He was so excited, he was pacing outside my room like a worried new dad according to my mom.

A very sleepy Daddy and his baby boy.

Going home day!  Of course he was Batman.

Daddy multitasking

My sister's awesome gift pile for her spoiled nephew

Archer has syndactyly on his left foot (webbed toes). They're adorable.

Archer throws mad shade - and check out that eyebrow.

Blue Steel.

Happiest Baby EVAR.

Great faces.

Laughing baby - best sound ever.

What, me worry? (My current phone screen, because it makes me giggle)

Archer and Babou

One month old!  He actually LOVES his changing table.

Archer meets Lucky - she's become such a nanny dog, absolutely adores him.

IgnoRANT...

"You should really wait until 39 weeks to induce. It's better for the baby! And now it's a LAW!"

No, Jane, you ignorant slut- it's a recommended guideline to prevent inductions of "convenience." Not mandated law.

I never thought I'd have to defend myself for having an induction considering my daughter DIED at 38 weeks. The above stemmed from a public forum, but I just realized I've been deflecting side-eye comments for WEEKS from people judging me for what they assume is my "choice." 

Allow me to state, very plainly, that this is NOT my choice. My ideal birth would be one in which I didn't have to panic and fret about the state of my and my baby's health/viability for the entire pregnancy. My ideal birth would include an epidural, which I cannot have thanks to the blood thinners I would, ideally, NOT have to inject myself with each night.

My ideal birth would be the happy occasion it's supposed to be, not surrounded by fear.

You're damn right I'm indignant that it's been implied that I'm "lazy" or "taking the easy way out" because I'm being induced. That I continue to be judged for circumstances I have no control over. 

This isn't "lazy." This isn't "convenience." This is love. That's my belly and my left side, bruised and blood-blistered from the nightly shots I take. Next week I get to start doing it twice a day. 

So, Yeah, you wanna come at me with those "lazy" comments again? Because I will destroy you. 

All the "I Could Nevers..."

I joined a parenting/childcare forum when I found out we were expecting Coraline, sometime in early April 2012.  There were inspiring tales from women who faced the odds to bring their babies into the world, and heartbreaking ones who despite all efforts had failed.  I found myself in tears many times, and I had yet to experience my own personal loss.

Reflecting on it now, there were so many times I thought to myself "I could never..." and so many times since then that I've found myself re-phrasing that to "I used to think I could never..."  Because I have.

I told myself I could never survive losing my baby.
I thought I could never make funeral/memorial plans for such a little one.
I told myself I could never be as strong as some of the women who had late-term losses, who had pictures taken of their baby, who proudly displayed them in their home.
I knew I could never sort through an unused nursery, or pack up and give away items that were intended for a life cut short.
I thought I would never want to have another - I thought "there's no way I can be that one with the 'rainbow baby' ticker at the bottom of her posts."  How could I ever first overcome a loss and two be willing to put it all on the line again?

I could never....

But so far, I have.  I have my rainbow ticker, that says "26 weeks and 5 days pregnant!" at the bottom of every post.  I survived the loss of my daughter, which makes me both relieved and depressed.  I've accepted that there are risks and have met them head-on, choosing to have another baby and bring her brother into the world, hopefully healthy and happy.  I made plans for her - I packed up her nursery (after a while).  I quietly sorted through her clothes and toys and donated what wasn't sentimental enough to keep.  I keep her picture on my desk at work and home.

And I'm one of MANY.  Women really don't get the credit they deserve for the shit they are subjected to - the depths they have to reach to discover the strength they have to persevere.  I was an "I Could Never" for so long, but until I was faced with "You HAVE To", I couldn't accept my own strength and ability.  That was a gift that my daughter gave me - one that I never wanted, but in light of the situation, appreciate now.  We beat ourselves down so much by saying what we can't do that we don't realize just how strong we are, the amazing feats of resilience we accomplish everyday, sometimes just by getting out of bed and going about our routine. 

I'm trying to be better at positive reinforcement, of myself and others.  Instead of dwelling on what has gone wrong, looking at how I've managed to overcome and live with the tragedy, thriving in the face of it.  Through every storm there is a rainbow, that old chestnut.  But its mostly true. :)

Stick em with the pointy end...

Update on Coraline's baby brother Archer, and momma.

At my specialist's recommendation, about 2 weeks ago I had eighteen (YES EIGHTEEN) vials of blood drawn for a Thrombophilia panel of tests.  These tests are basically to determine if I'm at a higher risk of clots/thrombosis and if I need to be on preventative medication.

To make a painfully long story short - yes, I am, and yes, I do.

My tests came back with something called lupus anticoagulant, which is deceiving in name.  It's not lupus, but more specifically antiphospholipid syndrome.  Basically, an autoimmune hypercoaguable state caused by antibodies in my blood.  Also referred to as "sticky blood", this syndrome means I'm at a higher risk for potentially harmful blood clots, deep vein thrombosis, and the conditions that branch off from those anomalies including pulmonary embolism and stroke.

This hit me like a blow to my already engorged stomach.  First, I'm a relatively healthy 32-year-old non-smoking, non-drinking female who, until Coraline's stillbirth, had never experienced a major medical complication or procedure.  Who would have thought I'd have to be on blood thinners before I hit 40, and while pregnant to boot?

Second, and what I explained to the nurse as I'm nearly in tears again in her office - it took me a year to come to terms with what happened to Coraline.  A full year to accept that she died due to a cord accident and nothing I carried or did.  Almost a year including hospitalization for a psychic break, and all the stress I put my poor husband through, just to overcome the guilt and be willing to try again for another baby.  And now this - this gives a new reason.  This means that Coraline may have died because something was wrong with my body, something went undetected and caused a clot and she perished because of it. 

To say I feel betrayed by my body is an understatement, yet nothing seems to appropriately fit the moment.  I had my ugly cry in the lobby, wiped my blue eyeliner on my sleeve (which now needs to be washed) and walked to half a block to the docs office to be tested.  After just hearing the words "lupus" on the phone, I was a wreck - once I was able to go over the results and what they meant with the doc, a few things became more clear:

1. No, there was no way of telling I had this condition without testing, and there was no reason to test until I had a major event that dictated it may be a factor (such as a stroke or stillbirth).

2. The only thing that changes for me from here on out is having to give myself daily injections of heparin, a blood thinner.  Yes, daily.  Yes, like, with a needle.  Yes it sucks, but having a blood clot cause a stroke would suck more.

3. There is no risk to Archer as long as I take the necessary preventative measures - the medication doesn't cross the placenta and there are no side effects to him.

Is it a change?  Yes, but I've adapted before - I'll adapt again.  Already I've joined an online support forum for Lovenox-takers, ordered a med id bracelet indicating I'm on a blood thinner, and my fabulous husband filled my scrip, got me alcohol swabs and a sharps container, and even scrubbed out the tub so I could take a nice relaxing bath when I get home from work.  Because he's the best.  He didn't bat an eye when I called him this morning, just drove up to meet me and was able to see our baby on the ultrasound again, an added bonus.

And Archer is perfect - right on track as far as growth, healthy and active and flourishing.  Honestly if they told me I had to come in daily to have my appendages gnawed on by the hideous bugblatter beast of Traal while listening to Kenny G's greatest Michael Bay soundtrack covers, my only question would be "what time?"  Because it's all worth it to make sure Archer gets here safely, and that I'm able to be healthy and around to take care of him, and Parker, and Matt.

Realism isn't pessimism

Allow me to clarify...

I refuse to be fake, and plaster on a smile when I'm not happy, or when I'm deep in thought, or simply very tired.  I tend to not speak unless I have something of value to contribute to the conversation, which many take as me being "snobbish" or anti-social.

I've been told before to "look on the bright side."  To focus on the good and the happy.  To not think about the possible negative outcomes, because "no one wants someone who is always looking to be miserable." I've been told if I complain, I'm being a pessimist.  If I speak up, I'm ungrateful.  God forbid I actually get angry and express emotions - I'm "unstable" and irrational because feelings.  Any negative words are a slight against my character and others, and I "don't really mean" anything bad I may say.  (Spoiler alert - I totally do).


I am not a glass-half-full type of person, as much as society may try to push me to be.  I am also not a doom and gloom, tragedy abounds at every turn kind of person.  I simply prepare for the worst and strive for the best possible outcome.  I am not a pessimist - I am a realist.  I am a planner, a long-term thinker - you see a sapling, I see the forest and the approaching dry season that may bring a fire.  The downside of this is a lack of being able to appreciate little things.  The upside is I'm usually prepped for any possible contingency, or at least able to think on my feet enough to bounce back quickly.

I have experienced the proverbial "worst possible scenario."  I have been dumped.  I have been robbed.  I have been institutionalized, rejected, and failed at many endeavors over the years.  I have lost a child on the brink of giving her life.  And I am still here.  None of these things has killed me, though the last one very nearly could have.

I will continue to prepare for the worst case scenario, but instead of praying or "hoping" for the best, I will work my ass off for it like I always have.  I will go to all my appointments and take my vitamins, because my intention is to take every precaution and care for Archer just as I did with Coraline.  Am I terrified that a repeat stillbirth may occur?  Of course, every day.  I am only reassured every time I feel him move, or I whip out the doppler and hear his rapid little heartbeat.  Does that mean I will not celebrate this pregnancy and his birth with as much fervor as I did Coraline's?  No - his life has begun already, and I will honor it and him, regardless of the outcome.

Realistically, I knew what the chances were for a repeat stillbirth when I became pregnant with Archer.  I understood the risks, and made a calculated decision to proceed with having this baby.  I examine things on a very detailed and technical scale, weighing all the options and odds before proceeding.  It may seem cold and calculated, but it's simply how I internalize decisions, including important and often emotionally charged ones.  My desire to have Archer, to bring him into the world for his father and brother and sister, outweighed the possible negative outcomes, and there was my decision.

I have had nightmares - I have had dreams where I'm whisked away to the ER following an appointment where they couldn't hear his heartbeat, and everyone is stunned because of the repeat anomaly.  Then I wake up and feel him wiggling inside, and reassure myself with all the on-target health scores and ultrasounds and projections. 

I can't live my life in fear, but that doesn't mean it isn't there and I won't make every attempt to protect myself from harm. 

Codename:Duchess

We're having a BOY! Our rainbow, Archer Thomas, will arrive sometime after June 13th.

We had an ultrasound at the end of January that confirmed he is ALL BOY. Everything else is going swimmingly. I've had minimal symptoms and all my levels (proteins, glucose, iron, etc) are within normal range. I start going to the high-risk specialist in 2 weeks, just to make sure everything continues going perfectly.

We're also in the process of trying to purchase our first home. I found one I am absolutely in love with, and we're trying to finalize within the next 2 months so we are all moved in well before our arrival is here. :)

I've been doing much better at focusing on the positive things and pushing forward. I don't get nearly as bogged down in my depression as I used to. I still have a few moments of stressed-out crying, but hell, I'm pregnant and I'm allowed to, right? Can't control all of the hormones all of the time. Learning to cut myself a break is a constant struggle.

I did have a strange pang of guilt today - I heard a song (I Will Follow You Into The Dark) that made me feel... guilty for not following Coraline. I'm her mother, I should protect her and walk beside her and yes, that means into the beyond, if for nothing other than to hold her hand and make sure she is unafraid. But then I remembered the life I'm growing now, and Coraline's older brother who just had a birthday, and try to focus on them. I hope she knows I'm still here for her, and I would have followed her into the dark and beyond I could have saved her. All I can do now is keep her memory alive, and focus on her daddy and brothers and give them the best life possible.