I've been meaning to make this post before I forget every last detail, but having a baby and taking care of said baby takes up a good chunk of my time. The other chunk is spent holding Cosmo. If you know anything about me at all, then you know we fought for this pregnancy. I had suffered two consecutive miscarriages before we got pregnant with Betty. It was easy for me to get pregnant, but for some reason it wasn't sticking. After my chemical pregnancy, I decided my body needed a reset. I went to an acupuncturist. I ate organic everything. I drank fertility shakes. I read books about fertility. I believe I learned enough about the reproductive cycle to qualify me as a low level OBGYN. If you want to chat about cervical mucus and ovulation test strips, I'm your gal.
And finally it was time to test again. For those of us trying to conceive (TTC), counting down the days when we can finally pee on a stick can be painful. My strategy is to test a little early, because if it is negative then I still have a chance. The first time I got a positive test I did a big reveal for Joe. I am not that naive anymore. A positive test does not mean a baby. Seeing that blue plus sign was exciting, but brought me so much anxiety as well. I showed Joe and said, "well, here we go."
And go we did. To Dr. Tynes and Brooke every week. We literally got to watch Betty go from a sack to a fetus right before our eyes. When we made it passed week 9 (the week that I had miscarried), I was cautiously optimistic. At 13 weeks I packed for our annual trip to the caricature convention. We still hadn't announced our pregnancy, because that's what happens when you've had losses. It robs you. It robs you of those precious Facebook announcements. It robs you of your baby. It robs you of blissful ignorance. But I still couldn't stop thinking 'I made it to the second trimester', the so called "safe" zone. I couldn't wait to get to the ISCA convention to see friends, and get to spend the last day at Epcot's Food and Wine festival (or Food and Water festival for the pregnant ladies). But the morning we were supposed to go to Epcot, I woke up, went to the bathroom, and was greeted with the sight of blood. Blood. The pregnant woman's worse enemy.
I spent the afternoon at a local Quickcare quipped with an on call ultrasound technician and the longest ultrasound of my life. If you've ever had an ultrasound at an ER clinic, then you will know that you don't get to see the screen, and the technician doesn't talk. It was a far cry from the ultrasounds I'm used to at the Women's clinic, with the friendly and comforting techs. He glided the wand over my stomach, and I watched his face. After what felt like hours, he said "Sorry it's taking so long. I'm trying to get measurements and it keeps moving around." These are beautiful words for a pregnant bleeding woman. It was moving. My baby was alive, and active. He left to go show his results to the radiologist, and the doctor would be with me shortly.
We waited. And waited. We were so sure everything was ok, that we were more worried about missing the ISCA banquet than what we were at the doctor for. When the ER doctor finally came, he informed us that the baby seemed fine,measuring at the correct gestational age, but that I had a subchorionic hemorrhage. He didn't say the location or how big, but that I had a 50/50 chance of miscarrying. But wait. I was in the second trimester. I was promised a lower probability of miscarriage. Why? Why was this happening to me? I shed many tears that weekend as we ventured back home. I went to my doctor first thing Monday and received word that my subchorionic hemorrhage was not really a big deal, and was so small it was almost completely reabsorbed by my body. Seriously?? I spent the whole weekend in misery, only to find out I had nothing to worry about. As the ultrasound tech finished up easing my worries, she smiled and asked, "do you want to know what you're having? Because I think I know!" So that is how another scary ultrasound turned into a happy ultrasound! A week later at our gender reveal, we of course found out our rainbow baby would be a girl.
After the hemorrhage I was sure that we had hit our final bump in the road and it would be smooth sailing for the rest of the pregnancy. But smooth seas don't make good sailers, and by the end of this pregnancy I was destined to be the best damn sailer around. Our anatomy scan revealed a small EIF on the heart -- a calcium deposit. The good news was that EIFs don't affect the function of the heart. They are harmless. The bad news is that they sometimes can mean a chromosomal defect. Luckily I had genetic testing done in the first trimester, and I was extremely low risk for chromosomal disorders, but my doctor wanted me to be seen by a specialist just in case. And let me tell you, if you are having a high risk pregnancy, Shreveport has a great perinatal specialist clinic (Regional Perinatal Group). Dr. Briery was so reassuring and comforting. He let us know that our baby was boring and normal. Thank God.
Our last bump was me being diagnosed with gestational diabetes. I was diet controlled, and had a pretty easy time controling it, but it led to me being induced at 39 weeks to avoid complications.
Joe and I arrived at the Birth Place at Highland around 11 PM Tuesday night on May 1, 2018. I took my last pregnancy photo with Cosmo, and we were on our way. This being my first delivery, I had no idea what to expect. To put it simply I was scared. By the time I was admitted, IV'ed and the Cytotech was inserted, it was around 1:30 AM on May 2nd. The nurse told me I could have no water or food until after I delivered, so naturally I wanted water and food immediately. This was a big worry for me, as I am a lover of food. I was told to try and get some sleep, but have you tried to sleep in a hospital bed, hooked up to an IV at 39 weeks pregnant and hungry? Was this some sort of sick joke to see how many times a pregnant woman has to get up to pee?? I don't know, but between that and the blood pressure cuff going off every 30 minutes, the loud thumping of Betty's monitor and the sound of my husband's blissful snoring, there was not a lot of sleep going down.
Around 5 AM the nurse came in to check on me. Apparently I was contracting pretty regularly (every couple of minutes), and was completely unaware. Since my labor was progressing they decided to hold off on starting the pitocin. They accidentally delivered breakfast to my room, but cruelly rolled it away (I'll always think of you, pancakes.) Dr. Tynes was going to come by around 9:30 to break my water, so I told them I wanted my epidural before then. I wasn't in a lot of pain yet, but I wanted the epidural to ease my anxiety. And God bless that little shot that I was given at 4 cm. I got to kick back and do some in bed exercises with a birthing ball to bring Betty down, all while watching some Seinfeld on Hulu and chatting with my parents. Can I have food? No. For the love of god, someone get me some crackers. Oh, I can only have these ice chips. Great. After awhile Brooke popped in to check on me, and remind me that we had waited a long time for this moment. She had been the one who diagnosed my first miscarriage, and then my second. This one would end better.
My contractions were starting to become erratic, so they gave me a tiny dose of pitocin to kick it back up. Around 11:00 AM, the nurse came to check me. Right after she checked me, she whispered to another nurse beside her, "Call Tynes and tell her she is a 9 and fully effaced." She then turned to me and asked, "So, you wanna have a baby before lunch?!" Um, duh! I also wanted lunch!
I couldn't believe it had happened so quickly. I had read many books, all warning me that first labors can last a long time. I'm glad I had the epidural too, because Tynes was in the next room delivering a baby, so I had to wait a little bit for her to deliver. As they set up the room for delivery, I tried to take in everything. They wheeled in the scale and supplies for our baby. My mom and Joe stayed in the room while my dad opted to wait in the waiting area. No idea why he wanted to miss this show! This is one thing I love about the Birth Place. I could have whoever I wanted. Around noon, Dr. Tynes flew through the door and the real party started. She started gearing herself up for what looked like some sort of battle. I was fully prepared to be pushing for awhile. But life had finally decided to cut me a break in the baby category. I did my first push, and her head was already half way out. Two pushes later and I hear Dr. Tynes say "there's a head...and a hand?....and a baby!" There she was. In all of her purple glory. In under 10 minutes I had pushed out my first baby. I had played that moment in my head since my first pregnancy, and finally I got to feel it. I will never be able to accurately describe the feeling of seeing your baby for the first time. I remember them laying her on my chest and thinking, "so we meet at last." She was alive. I had done it. My body had done it. That first day was a whirlwind, like I was having an outer body experience. I finally got to eat, which was another outer body experience.
The nurses came to help me to the bathroom for the first time after giving birth. As I stood up, liquid splashed everywhere. Yep. I had peed on the floor. Oh, the things no one prepares you for after the fact.
The next morning I woke up after a couple hours of hospital sleep (I mean, really,who can sleep in that bed), and peered into Betty's bassinet. She started to hiccup. You see, Betty hiccuped everyday from the 20th week until the day I gave birth. A few times a day in fact. It had finally fully hit me that the baby I had come to know inside me, was laying next to me. I cried. I cried for the ones I had lost. I cried from the stress and anxiety of a rainbow pregnancy. I cried for thankfulness. Thankful that Betty was strong, and that she had survived where others could not.
