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.

A Thankful Heart and an Amazing Announcement

After every storm there comes a rainbow.  This year, Matt and I are thankful for the opportunity to bring Coraline’s brother or sister, our rainbow baby, into the world sometime next summer. :)

Yep - I got my super-duper positive test while we were on our cruise.  So that cut short my boozing and increased my water intake (and subsequent retention).  For those of you who care, yes we planned this and yes we are thrilled/terrified/exhausted/excited and every other emotion in between.

A few preemptive answers to anticipated questions - not that most of my friends and family would ask these, but I’ve been caught off guard before by the unsuspecting stranger (like the jackhole on the cruise).  I felt the need to sort some of these out and come up with snarktastic replies, just in case.

Oh my gosh, you’re pregnant!?  Wow - was this planned?

Are you asking whether we used protection while having consensual sex as married adults in our own home?  Because that’s a pretty invasive question, IMHO.

Is this your first?

No, I have two others - a 10-year-old son and a daughter who was stillborn.

Isn’t it too soon/so long after Coraline?

The timing is right for us, and that’s all that matters.

What are you hoping for?

A healthy baby.  We’ll take a velociraptor, but a healthy baby is ideal.

Aren’t you worried about a repeat of (in hushed tones) last time?

You should be more concerned about my fist repeatedly hitting your face this time.

Are you going to have a baby shower?

No.  We are blessed to have mostly everything we need for a new arrival, with some adjustments after finding out the gender.

Have you picked out any names?

Yes, Archer for a boy and Ingrid for a girl.

Well what about ­________?

No.

Are you sure?  Don’t you like ­­­_________?

No.

You should go with __________.

You should stop talking now.

Are you getting rid of your cats/dogs?

No. They will adjust, and they are part of our family, too.

You should really do (insert old wives pregnancy wisdom).

Thanks, I’ll look into that.  (has no intention of strapping grape leaves to my hands every other Tuesday to relieve RLP)

Are you going to do a water birth/C-section/natural?

Depends on what happens, but I will do whatever it takes to bring a healthy, screaming baby into the world. 

When are you due?

July 4^th.

Oh, born on the Fourth of July!!! How adorable!

Yes, I’m vomiting red, white and blue as a show of patriotism.

I saw an episode of (insert crappy reality medical show here) and that makes me an expert on (insert phase of pregnancy/prenatal care).  Let me give you some advice…

Thanks - I’ve done this twice already.  I’m good.

Oh, you shouldn’t eat that!

Right now, it’s the only thing my body is tolerating.  So piss off unless you want to wear it.

I guess this means you can’t go out drinking…

Yep, also, no more happiness.  Because 9 months is FOREVER and I live for booze. (rolls eyes)


Maybe I just anticipate people will say horrible things because I've experienced it, but I like to be prepared. :)

Invisible handicaps

This past week was amazing - we took our cruise to Mexico, Belize and Isla Roatan.  I got a massage and we sat on the beach drinking rum (well, Matt was) and enjoying the ocean breeze.  It was a great escape from work and responsibility, since we had a couple watching our home and pets and leaving us mostly carefree for a solid week.  Bliss.

Then there was the blind guy.  We chose to dine on “our time”, which meant a different seating arrangement every evening, but no restrictions on time to show up.  One night we end up with an older (50-60s) legally blind gentleman and his wife.  This guy took every opportunity to tell everyone at the table that he was legally blind.  Multiple times.  Even though no one asked.  So he can see shapes and colors but not much beyond that.  

A few days later, we’re in the pool in the adults-only Serenity deck, enjoying the cool water after a long, hot day traipsing around Belize, when Ray Charles shows up.  And begins talking, at great length, about all the places he’s been and things that no one knows but him and his travels and collections and friends and associates because me me me me me I I I I I LOOK AT ME I’M SPECIAL.  Matt and I are comfy and don’t want to get out, so we chat with Me-Monster a bit.

Then he asks the “so ya’ll have kids” question, to which I reply “Yep.  A 10-year-old.  And one on the way.”  And Dickbag goes into a tirade about how we “should have had them at like 3 and 1” or closer together, and “why would you want to have another one now, that’s like starting all over.”  And I’m biting my lip til it bleeds and letting the saltwater from the pool bring even more physical pain to dull the emotional anguish and keep me from punching his detached-retina lights out.  

I explain that Parker is mine, and Matt and I just married 3 years ago.  I explain that our daughter was stillborn last November, to which this incredible asshole, who should know something about the hardships people have to go through, the strange looks and snide comments you get when you have a visible handicap, says to my face “Well, Mother Nature doesn’t make mistakes.”

Excuse the fuck out of me you pretentious prick, but I disrespectfully disagree.

I kindly informed our misinformed co-passenger that my daughter was full-term and perfect.  That it was an accident, and there was nothing wrong with her.  There wasn’t a mistake that “mother nature” felt a need to “correct.”  Matt stepped up and defended her as well.  I wasn’t about to let this guy off the hook without knowing he got his “facts” wrong.  

He then tries to backpedal and makes a comment about “those babies born at like 24 weeks that are like a pound and it’s not right and those kids are never right.”  I’m fuming at this point, looking at my 6-foot, 200+ lb husband who was born prematurely.  According to this guy’s logic, my husband also “wasn’t right” and shouldn’t be here.  I couldn’t even spit out any words without hissing at the guy like a Dilophosaur, so I just said “I’m going to go lay out, now” and removed myself from the pool.

I couldn’t believe this guy was blind in more ways than one.  And yet, underneath my boiling surface, I was actually glad that he was that stupid - because it meant he never had to go through anything like it himself.  He couldn’t possibly understand, and although his words were incredibly insensitive and painful to endure, I’ve endured much, much worse.  I would gladly trade places and be physically blind if it meant I didn’t have the insight I do now, on the other side of loss.