A Study in Bedrest Dementia

26 weeks, 1 day: I am still here. Not in the hospital, not any other terrible place. I am sorry that I have not updated before now--I need to figure out how to do posts from a Blackberry or something?

The lowdown on the medical situation: still on bedrest (REALLY REALLY BAD), total protein numbers have bounced around without any significant increase or decrease so far (REALLY REALLY GOOD), BP still too high and still increasing medication every week (REALLY REALLY ANNOYING--KIND OF LIKE THE ALL CAPS, EH?).

Baby No Name is hanging in there like a trooper. We have our second Level II ultrasound this Thursday to check on his growth and the placenta situation. I am hoping that he will be well over 2 pounds by then.

My OB (did I call her Dr. Thorough before?) is somewhat perplexed by my collection of problems, as it is apparently worse than chronic hypertension usually is but it's not (yet) progressing like pre-eclampsia usually does. So, it looks like we won't have a firm diagnosis until we look back at it from the other side. If you're wondering, the reason we care about the diagnosis is that it gives some indication of what might happen in the next weeks/months. But I don't think we're going to get that luxury.

The basic plan at this point is to try to keep me out of the hospital for as long as possible. Dr. Thorough guesstimates that hospitalized bedrest will likely be needed by 30 weeks. We are hoping to keep BNN cooking in there until at least 32 weeks, which will be around Thanksgiving. A 32 weeker will be in NICU for a while, but hopefully not more than a month and without major prematurity problems. I can still barely think about what all this may mean for the baby.

Ack.

I'm not going to lie to you--spirits are on the low side. I have been throwing myself pity parties with distressing frequency. I have started doing therapy sessions again by phone and that has helped some, although my therapist pointed out that I must have been a dictator in a former life to have all these hard lessons to learn about control.

No kidding. I get it already. I am really trying to stave off wallowing as it does no one any good, least of all me. I have not yet had much success finding peace with all of this, but I am still trying. I've got to figure out how to move past the anger and sadness and fear that my longed for, idealized, probably one and only pregnancy is turning out like this. That is really old news at this point but it is still so hard to let go of the bitterness about all the experiences we have been cheated out of. I can hardly bear the thought that my baby's precious first weeks will be spent in a plastic tub with tubes and needles and monitors sticking out all over. And I know that he will most likely be ok. But still........so hard to come to terms with that.

Anyway, I am still here, making like a bump on a log and trying to keep this baby cooking. And gladly accepting all calming thoughts that you can spare.

No One Said It Would Be Easy, Right?

If anyone is taking bets out there, we have officially crossed the magic protein line into pre-eclampsia. It is mild pre-e* but pre-e. So..........more testing and more waiting. There is not much to be done except try to keep it from getting worse for as long as possible. Which means strict, only-get-up-to-pee, bedrest.

This is much harder than it sounds. Much MUCH harder. Especially when your DH is essentially somewhat mistrustful of the medical profession and is not all convinced of the need for bedrest of this magnitude. And frankly, I wonder myself if Dr. Earnest is not going a bit overboard? It's hard to say. My Google M.D. says that bedrest is somewhat controversial in treating hyptertensive disorders in pregnancy, as the clinical studies only support a better outcome for the baby, not the mother. On the other hand, there is anecdotal evidence that it has helped some women prolong the progression of the disease. I think there really isn't a choice when it comes down to it--I have to know that I did everything I could, however futile it ends up to be. We don't have the luxury of a do-over if it turns out to be the wrong thing.

So.......the big challenge now, as seems to be so often the case, is to try to shoulder the load with some kind of dignity. I am finding this much easier said than done. Ha! Understatement of the year! It is so very hard for me--maybe not for everyone, but for me--to keep up with the emotional fallout of all this. I feel angry that this hell has to follow the hell of infertility, I feel abandoned by some of my friends and family, misunderstood by my husband, lonely, pitiful, eager to just DO something. For added drama, most of these emotions come in 10 minute revolving cycles throughout the day. And I thought Clomid was bad.

In any case, we will get through it. And--God willing and the creek don't rise--we'll have a healthy baby boy to show for it. That's a good goal, I think.


*If you're following along at home, the protein number went from 218 mg last week to 337 mg this week. Translation: 300 and up is mild, home bedrest pre-e; 1000 and up is hospitalized bedrest pre-e; 4000 and up is severe, delivery of baby now pre-e. The complicated part is that you can go from "mild" to "delivery" levels over months, or within days or even hours.

Tales from the Couch

First, thanks to all of you who have commented and emailed in recent weeks. I don't have to tell you how much it means to have that support from some of my favorite people.

To recap events since we last spoke, we had the perinatologist/maternal-fetal medicine specialist appointment last week. The good news is that the fancy ultrasound revealed Baby No Name to be wriggling away and in apparently fine health. We had the u/s at 22w3d and he measured an average of 23w2d--so the high BP hasn't caused any intrauterine growth restriction (IUGR) so far. IUGR is one of the main risks to the baby from my BP so they will be keeping a close eye on him by repeating the u/s every few weeks. It was such a tremendous relief to hear him described as "vigorous." Even more than hearing the heartbeat for the very first time. Little stinker seems to be a fighter. And, as of last week's Jug O' Pee protein test, I am still dodging pre-eclampsia. Hallelujah!

The bad news is--surprise!--my BP. We have tweaked the meds twice since I updated last and nothing seems to hold it down for more than a few days. This situation is driving me mad, as I just can't fathom why modern medicine can't get a handle on it. I have just finished my fourth week of bedrest with medication six times a day and I'm still spiking into the 170s/90s, with consistent pressures greater than 150/85. It makes me shudder to think what would happen if I was working?

Oh, and as of Friday's hospital visit, I have been diagnosed with something called "irritable uterus." Apparently, hypertension increases the risk of pre-term labor and, if I understood the nurse correctly, IU is some variety of pre-term labor. In any case, I have been having 5-8 contractions an hour, but they are not changing my cervix. They are tolerable as long as I don't move around much. So I'm on strict bedrest until told otherwise by the OB. I really have no idea what this new development means to the overall picture.

This is probably all way too much information, but I am not sure what pieces to leave out? Things have gotten a bit complicated and interconnected here in Mudland. I would like to put together a post about the emotional/homefront aspect of all of this, but that will have to wait. Headed back to the couch, with gratitude again for the lovely internets.

24 weeks on Monday.

No News Is....No News

Since we last spoke, things looked worse again with a bad protein result then better again with a new meds dosage and now we are once again back to worse. Look out for the whiplash! I am upset because my BP is heading back up again. We had 3 glorious days on 1500 mg aldomet, and it was really staying stable at around 140-145/80-85. Now it's been around 155/85 all day today and it won't go down. This is exactly what happened the last forty times we upped the dosage--it would be better for a few days and then start going up again to new highs.

The rollercoaster is really starting to get to me emotionally. I've really been trying to stay upbeat and positive but every time we get another "bad" result on a test or something it throws me for a loop and various terrible outcomes start feeling inevitable. And then I start berating myself for being a worrywart and for taking each individual clinical result as the end all, be all. It's just so hard to get perspective from the couch.

Waiting for the Other Shoe to Drop

OB visit yesterday went well--BP was slightly down from previous visits and no protein in the dip test. We are redoing the 24 hour urine test--at home this time, thankfully. I was hoping that she would have a more visceral reaction to my incarcaration story, but thems the breaks, right? She upped my meds again and I'm still on bedrest. Lather, rinse, repeat.

It appears that things are quiet on the pre-eclampsia front and that is very very good. The upshot of all this, as best as I can understand, is that I am some level of high risk because of the hypertension and also more likely than your average bear to develop pre-eclampsia. So, we are going to keep on with the weekly visits and tests and such until the baby is born or something worse happens. Whichever comes first.

I have my first consult with the Maternal Fetal Medicine specialist on my 32nd birthday--next Thursday, the 29th. I hear that I'll get a stellar ultrasound from him, so I'm kind of looking forward to it, baby pic junkie that I am.

Home Again

I'm finally sprung from the hospital after a 48 hour stay, but without the protein test results that I was originally incarcarated to produce. I won't bore you with all the details, but hospital lab staff incompetence + on call OB = a big fat waste of time. I am headed to my regular OB tomorrow morning to see what to do now--I suspect we will be repeating the joy because we need those protein numbers.

Thanks for the emails and well wishes. I'll update tomorrow.

We Are Headed In the Wrong Direction

My BP started taking a turn for the worse yesterday, and despite all our best efforts, is now getting close to pre-medication, pre-bedrest levels again. In case you're wondering, that means it's basically always higher than 140/85, is often around 150/90, with spikes into the 165/95 range just to pep things up. Can you believe this shit?

I have now been sternly instructed to head directly for L&D if it gets over 160/mid-90s again. I feel pretty confident that the Traitorous Body (T.B.) that I inhabit will get us up there today, come hell or high water. No one would really explain what exactly would happen if I do to the hospital, although I have a sneaking suspicion that they will make me stay there.

You can probably guess that I am feeling increasingly discouraged as that stupid pressure inches up and up. I have learned in the last few days that a 24-hour pity party is not especially helpful to my overall mood or my marriage. I really want to throw something but that doesn't seem heart-rate-friendly.

Anyone have suggestions on a) a helpful frame of mind; and b) ways to distract myself from T.B.?

P.S. I don't have a laptop so internet surfing/blogging/etc. is fairly limited.

And Wait, One More Thing...

So, now I'm on bedrest. Hopefully just for the short term to get the BP "under control." The primary issue at this point is that we have to get it down because it will only go up from here. And over the long term, hypertension does bad bad things to the wee babe. And maybe to me, but not right now and I don't really care about that.

I am feeling pretty down about my body's spectacularly consistent ability to screw me over. I mean really. In the last 6-7 years (not so coincidentally, since I started law school), I have had three fairly major surgeries, one of which required a month of in-bed recovery, anaphylactic shock to some unknown substance that very nearly killed me in the middle of O'Hare airport on a business trip, tachycardia, chronic sinusitis, fucking infertility drama, assorted lesser evils, and now this. I am a seemingly "healthy" normal woman in her early 30s.

No one has an explanation for what I consider to be a truly ridiculous number of health problems. The best I have come up with: a) I have some bizarre syndrome that will be eventually diagnosed and treated by a genius doctor like those you read about in Good Housekeeping; b) I have the fastest, most reliable stress-to-physical-manifestation-response modern medicine has ever seen; or c) my body just hates me. Maybe all three?

In any case, I never have been able to figure out what to do about this. I have gotten the slow down message and, in comparison to where I once was, I really have toned it down. Maybe not enough? Not in the right way? Facing east at the proper second just as the sun is 32 degrees from its zenith over Madagascar?

This has been an ongoing problem that seriously pisses me off, as you can see. But now my evil fucking body is letting this tiny baby down, the one it tried so hard to keep me from getting in the first place. If my traitorous body successfully destroys the placenta and starves this child. . .

I don't know how to finish that sentence.

A Long Overdue Update

1. I am now 19 weeks and 3 days and noticeably pregnant. Can you freaking believe that?

2. It's a boy! Here's the latest photo opportunity:

3. As of last week, I have suddenly developed high blood pressure and assorted related worries. My BP was 120/70 last month, and was in the high 150s/90s unmedicated, with spikes up into the 170s/100s. I started Aldomet Tuesday, and is now hovering at around 140/80s medicated. I think it needs to be lower still.

Pregnancy Induced Hypertension (PIH) is not a good thing, but it's much much better than pre-eclampsia, which is looming on the horizon. As I understand it, a diagnosis of pre-e is appropriate with consistent BP readings of 150/90, plus 300 uu* of protein in a 24 hour urine sample. My protein is currently 169.

I am freaked about this, despite the lowering of the BP with medication, because it's such a rollercoaster of unknown quantities. It could easily get much much better and never develop into pre-e and just cruise along until full term. It could also easily get much much worse and quickly, anytime between now and January 30. Many PIH and pre-e babies are significantly premature. But, we have no idea at all what will happen. Other than a higher level of medical vigilance from here on out.

No, apparently it never ends. And I was just starting to get kind of comfy in that pregnancy bubble too.

*unknown unit

The Great Gasoline Incident: An Interlude

So I went to visit my mother. Pretty uneventful, although she did try to pawn off a Michelle Duggar, screams-Penecostal maternity dress on me.* On the way home, I stopped to get gas. The gas pump was overtaken by some sort of demon and didn't shut off when the tank was full. That gas had to go somewhere and about two gallons of it ended up on me. Dripping from my shirt, soaking my bra, eating away my elastic waistband. Woe is me. I drove home like a bat out of hell, skin burning all the while, got lost along the way (which I blame on fumes), and finally, blissfully washed that crap off about 45 minutes later. I have never been so happy to take a shower.

The good news is that I cadged another illicit low-tech ultrasound out of Grandma after this little adventure. Baby Peach was wiggling like a maniac and silently berating me for the stinky environment she was forced to endure. It was worth it. Almost.

*Complete with enlarged Peter Pan collar and breast bow.

Perhaps It's Time for an Update?

I have recently discovered (due to T's sharp eyes) that the invisible ink trick doesn't work on Bloglines. Ahem. So, screw it. I am having enough trouble talking about this without losing the blog haven too.

I am now 13 weeks, 4 days and I seem to be having a weird reaction to this pregnancy thing. I can't talk about it with pretty much anyone. I have been planning to tell people at work--and actively trying to do it--for several weeks now with very very little success. You may remember when I couldn't say the words, "I want a baby," on command to my therapist? It's a very similar feeling. I cannot seem to get the words out of my mouth. And so day after day after day passes and very few people know.

What in the hell is this about? I know that some of it is that I don't really want the oohing and aahing that seem to be inevitable and I especially don't want the suddenly intimate questions about bodily functions, etc. But I don't know about the rest of it. I don't feel especially paralyzed with fear these days--we've made it to the second trimester with basically no problems past the early days and I have no reason to think we won't end up with a baby at the end of this. So, that's not really it. I'm honestly somewhat baffled.

But the baby which A. has named Baby Peach (her size a couple of weeks ago) is doing just fine and waved to Grandma during an illicit u/s at Grandma's hospital last week.

There are most certainly no words for that.

Good News, for a Change

This has turned out to be a banner week in Blogland. Three IVFs, two positive betas so far. If you haven't already, please stop by the front porch of the lovely and talented Suz and the brilliant and gorgeous Bugs to give them your congratulations. I think I am more excited than I was with my very own positive beta, if that is possible.

And Jen darling, it's your turn next. Good things come in threes you know.

Akimbo

To my dearest Bugs, and Jen, and Suz, the internets and I are anxiously waiting with you for The Day to come, and we'll be here the day after, no matter what.

Meet the Stephanies

[photos edited due to excessive google interest]

Do you remember when you were 5? Did you have a partner in crime, fellow pirate and best friend forever? A. has one. His name is R. And together, they are the Stephanies.

No, that's what they call themselves. Really. They are twin brothers and they are both named Stephanie.

Aren't you jealous? I know I am.

Invisible Ink Is Pretty Techno-Geek, No?

I am still uneasy talking about my pregnancy, on this blog and IRL. So, in attempt number 4,027 to find some middle ground, I am going to outright steal this idea from T. at Good Times, Good Times and use some invisible ink for the most egregiously pregnancy-related stuff. Or at least I'm going to try it and see how it goes. Highlight the space below if you want to read such things:

My anxiety-ridden belief in all things bad (again, see T.'s most recent post for elaboration) led me to shell out hard-earned cash to rent a home doppler machine a couple of weeks ago. Not surprisingly, this led to even more anxiety because I couldn't find the freaking heartbeat! Everywhere I looked I found only mine. Stupid and plodding and slow and why in the hell do I have so many blood vessels in my pelvis? I mean, shouldn't two or three do the job? Sheesh.

Last night, in a fit of optimism, I tried again. No dice. K., sweet man that he is, tried to convince me that the machine was defective, not the baby. My belief in technology remains strangely unshaken so I argued with him (as I am wont to do these days), and in mid-sentence, THERE IT WAS! I found it! Eureka!

Baby G. is alive and well in there. What an overwhelming relief. I will admit to crying a little.

Fair Warning: Irritability Ahead

I should explain at the outset of this post that since becoming a stepmother who is deeply involved in raising a 5 year old, I have discovered myself to be much more traditionalist about discipline than I would have expected. Not quite a Victorian sensibility but firmly in the I am the adult and I make the rules kind of parenting category. Another way of saying it: I think it is our job as parents to teach children how to control themselves (to the extent possible depending on age, maturity, etc) so that they can use their emotions constructively rather than destructively. There is probably a fancy name for a parenting theory attached to this, but I am speaking strictly from the gut here.

So, on with the post. Before I became a stepmother, I had passing contact with other people's children. A day with the nieces here, a barbeque there, all very infrequent. I generally spent my time with other childless adults. But, since A. has entered my life, I have begun my initiation into the sticky wicket that is Hanging Out With Other People With Children. I think this happens because it makes having a social life with a child easier, not just because the kids mostly entertain each other.

Fast forward to present day. What does one do when you are viscerally irritated by your friends' offspring and/or their handling of said child? Irritated is perhaps not quite the word. Hmmm. Perhaps it's better described as a situation in which your friends' child is engaging in behavior that would get your child verbally corrected, at the least, or chucked into heavy duty time out, at worst. And this Other Child's behavior usually nets a very very gentle, "don't hit mommy," if anything from the friends. And this behavior is not occasional.

I could say that the major problem here is that A. will pick up the bad behavior. And, to some extent, that is an issue. But I think if we're being honest here, it's more about K. and I. What do you do when other people's parenting choices (and I do believe that's exactly what this is) drive you batty? We don't want to stop being friends with these people, as the adults in this circle are pretty close and have been for some time. And I certainly have no illusions that our opinions about anything involving their child would or should matter a whit to them. I'm even willing to go so far as to say that perhaps they are doing the best thing for their family. But, I will never ever be converted to thinking that misbehavior is charming and cute. I love my friends dearly but we have found ourselves shrinking back a bit from what once was a frequent social relationship. This has not been improved by hormone-induced crankiness.

Thoughts? Suggestions? Smack across the face?

A. Gets a Pony Ride

[edited due to excessive google interest]

Tell me that isn't the cutest cowboy you've ever seen.

Assorted Baby-Related Updates

Thank you for all of the kind and thoughtful responses to my last post. I feel sheepish for being so melodramatic but I did really mean what I said and it was lovely to get your support. I mean, it was lurvely.

On with the blog-confined baby update show then. I am now 10weeks 3days. Baby G is theoretically about two inches long and at last count had a heartbeat of 172 beats per minute. I am most definitely larger, although some of my nice friends deny it. I am freaked out by the fact that my left breast has inflated to be noticeably larger than my right. I can't help but think that this is unusual and it is certainly throwing off bra purchases.

Here are the ultrasounds that you have missed so far:

5w2d



7w0d



9w1d--you can see the little head on the right side of the blob if you look closely

A Different Sort of Longing

I know posts along these lines have caused a lot of controversy in the Blog World in the past and I have no wish to stir up any of that crap. But I want to talk about this, so if you want to read it, buckle your seat belts.

* * *

FertilityFriend.com popped up with this helpful tip today: "You may be surprised that other moms and older women now accept you as a full adult and a grown-up woman in a new way." A "full adult"? What kind of rank bullshit is that? And coming from a website that plays host to teeming throngs of infertiles? Apparently, once you're pregnant, that kind of stuff is not supposed to piss you off anymore. You're supposed to be excited about being "accepted in a new way" and move on with your life.

But that's bullshit. I can't just *poof* make this transition from an Infertile Heather to an apparently normal pregnant person. I am not normal. I don't know who those "normal" people are.

One of the greatest joys over the last year was my discovery of the Heathers and, though them, all of you. After feeling so alone and so apart from everyone I knew in real life, it was an overwhelming relief to come online and talk to my friends who understood all too well where I was and why I felt that way.

That is different now, and I don't know where to go next. Of course I know exactly how painful it is to read or see something about someone else's pregnancy when you fear that you'll never have one of your own. I don't want to cause anyone that pain. But I feel that sometimes my online presence alone, as a pregnant person, causes pain. That if I post anything at all it will scream, "She's pregnant and you're not!"

So, I feel that I should stop posting comments on your blogs and posts in the Heathers group. But I don't want to. I lurve you people. Many of you are real-er to me than my real life friends and I follow your trials and tribulations just as avidly. And I've come to depend on your support and friendship. And beginning to lose it has made me realize just how important it is.

I've read more than one post from a pregnant infertile along these same lines. Talking about how lonely it is over here. I am thrilled to be pregnant and I am so very nervously holding my breath for second trimester. I wish I could talk to you about that. I wish I could share it. You are thinking, well can't she just find some new pregnant friends and get on with it? The answer is no. The Easily Pregnant are everywhere and they are different on a cellular level. They don't know what a beta is. They don't know what a dildocam is. They don't know what it's like to want so desperately you think you won't live through it.

Yes, I know. Bitch bitch bitch. Whine whine whine. Easy for me to say and all that. I can't help it. I don't want them. I want you.

All of this just to tell you, I'm not going to disappear from IF land. I don't want to and I couldn't even if I did. And I am going to talk about pregnancy on this blog as long as I am pregnant, but I will keep it under wraps as much as possible elsewhere. I just thought you should know why I might sometimes cross the comfort line, trying to stay in your life and keep you in mine.

The Good News

is that K. and I seem to have reached a detente in our war. At least for now. And thank God.

So today we'll be taking a survey--how do you choose an OB? Here's the situation: The only OB/Gyn I have seen in years was one visit with Dr. Quiet before running to the RE. She seems pretty nice but her staff is semi-bitchy and she can't see me until July 15. I will be nearly 12 weeks. I don't like this.

Choice #2 is Dr. Hands Off, who is highly recommended by my mother the L&D nurse as a non-interventionist doctor. He can see me at the end of June at 9 weeks. This is much much much better. However, he was the OB when K and Ex were expecting A, five years ago. He did not deliver, but he was the official OB. This creeps me out a little. Particularly since it bugs me that K has already had his first baby experience--and it turns out it was with this Doctor. Of course.

Plan C was to try to find someone else entirely. It seems that all the Drs. people like and recommend are either so very popular you can't get an appointment or else they have gotten so popular they don't deliver anymore. And the rest just seem to suck. Midwives are not a real option because they can only do home births here and I don't think that's a good idea with a first timer.

Any thoughts? I think I may just have to get over it. I mean, I need to actually find an OB, right?