Life is Flowers

I called the doctor yesterday because I wasn’t feeling right in the “girlie parts” area and I was afraid that something was wrong with my cerclage (in other words, I was worried that the babies were slowing ripping through my cervix and were going to fall out)   I was hoping just to go in for a quick check…. but instead I was sent immediately to the dreaded hospital.  They hooked me up to the monitors and we proceeded to sit in fearful agony for TWO HOURS before the doctor finally came in to see me.

Despite my extreme paranoia, my cervix and cerclage were  still intact… however, I am very glad that we went.  Turns out that I am having contractions!  Not good at 22 weeks!  At first, they thought that maybe I was dehydrated… but seeing that I practically drown myself in water everyday, I knew that couldn’t be it.  They ran some tests and found out that I have an infection which they think is probably causing my contractions.  Fun.  They pumped me full of IV antibiotics and sent me home last night with some more.  With some luck, the contractions will calm down once the antibiotics start to clear up the infection.  We are really lucky because it could have technically sent me into full-blown labor.  Super Fun.

Now I am just laying here staring at the wall and praying that the contractions will stop.  No pre-term labor for me!!

Geee, it must be great to lounge around all day in bed, eating bon-bons, watching TV, maybe switching it up every now and again and playing a computer game, and then flipping from your left to your right side.

So great in fact that you’re worried every time you roll over that your going to rip your cerclage out.  When you eat laying down you spill the contents of your food on the bed….and you.  Luckily you avoid hot liquids.  It must be great to get sore from lying down all day.  Oh! Then there is the worry over blood clots, loss of muscle mass, depression and a continual feeling of isolation being confined to your bed.  Only getting to see the outside world when you leave for your doctors appointment.  Even better for you is that, once an active participant in your family, now you watch from the sidelines and only get to participate should your family decide to grace you with their presence.

Best of all, the fear that every time you stand up, your babies are going to slip out tearing your cerclage along the way.  Yay!  Happy Thanksgiving to you….again and again.  Oh, and I know how much you love to cry.  Crying because of the overwhelming pressure on you.  Crying because of the pain.  Crying because less than 1% of the population can even understand what you are going through.  Crying because today is Alex’s birthday and he’s not here to celebrate it with us.  Crying because in just another week, it’s Chris’ birthday and she won’t be here to celebrate it either.  Crying because November is the worst month in history and knowing that it might just get worse before it’s over.

Geeee, you must be having the time of your life.

Happy Birthday Xander.

We are having 2 girls!  Maybe, sort of, kind of.  We had another ultrasound last week and the tech said that the babies look “girl-ish.”  They weren’t very cooperative during the ultrasound, though, so there is still a chance that they could be hiding little man parts.  We should  get a better reading during their anatomy ultrasound in a couple weeks.  Yippee!  Michael is in so much trouble!  Outnumbered 4-1.  hee hee.

My cervix is also behaving… which is always good to know!

On a completely unrelated note:  Isabel has been singing the most adorable songs lately.  Her favorites right now are The Barney Song, You are My Sunshine, and the ABC Song.  I even get hugs and kisses during the Barney Song.  She’s amazing.

Cerclage day (otherwise known as the day Edie thought she was going to die from fright) was a success.  Michael drove me to the hospital first thing in the morning so that we could be there in plenty of time for the torturous preparations that needed to be done before the surgery.  I am not the most pleasant person when I am nervous/scared but Michael was amazing in his efforts to keep me sane along the way

At the hospital, we sat around for a while and then I was dragged kicking and screaming into the pre-surgery prep area all by myself.  OK… I wasn’t exactly screaming out loud but I certainly felt like letting out a good hearty scream of panic.  The nurse was real nice and she settled me into my hospital bed and gave me a wonderful pair of fun, hospital booties.  Another nurse came in to start my IV and finally Michael was allowed to come back into the room.  Whew!

A whole slew of people came in one by one to give me a bunch of info about the surgery and anesthesia.  Much to our dismay, we then found out that they were going to switch doctors on us.  Instead of the wonderful head of the high-risk department, my surgery was going to be done by 2 doctors that I had never heard of.  Needless to say, I was annoyed (especially because we had just met with the guy yesterday and everything was fine.)  We were told he had an unexpected meeting.  Annoying!

They did a quick ultrasound and then we just had to wait for a bunch more fluids to get in me before they could take me into surgery.  Apparently, it helps prevent my blood pressure from dropping too much with the anesthesia.  After I was all filled up, they came in to roll me away.  This was definitely the scariest part of the whole thing.

The operating room was freezing!  They transferred me to the table and sat me up for the spinal.  The spinal itself wasn’t so bad but I was shaking from nerves (and the polar ice cap conditions) so it was probably a little harder than it should have been.  They gave me a super-low dose of medicine so as soon as they gave it to me, they flipped me upside-down in the bed to allow the meds to flow to the proper area.   The surgery needed to be done in the Trendelenburg position (with my body slanted down towards me head) and I kept sliding off the table.  It was awful.  They had to slant the bed the other way and then try to push me back down.  I felt like a beached whale.  At some point, they even had to call someone else in to help move me.  What a way to start off the surgery.  At least they only had to do that twice!

The surgery itself was easy (for me at least.)  I didn’t even realize that they had started and then they were all done.  The only annoying part about the surgery itself was the fact that the doctors were constantly rambling in a language that I didn’t recognize.  I was really frustrated because I couldn’t figure out what they were talking about… were they having problems getting the stitch in?  Were they talking about my funny looking butt?  Were they talking about what they wanted to eat for dinner?  I would recommend that doctors do not ramble in another language unless they want to make their patient really stressed.  After it was over, they did a quick in-and-out catheter (because I wouldn’t be able to get up for about an hour and thought it would be nice if I didn’t pee the bed) and then they wheeled me into recovery.

Recovery from the anesthesia was very quick.  They gave me such a low dose that I could start to move my legs before I even left the operating room.  In less than an hour, the anesthesia wore off, I went pee (a prerequisite for letting me out of the hospital…good to know, huh?) and they paged Michael to come meet me in recovery so I could go home.

Everything was fine until about 1/2 way home when the pain meds started wearing off.  Wow did I hurt!  We were stuck in rush hour traffic and had a long way to go before we got to the pharmacy for more pain meds!  That was NOT fun!

We finally got home and the official start of bedrest began.  All in all, the surgery went well.  I bled a lot more than everyone said I would… and was in a lot more pain… but at least the stitch is in!  And hopefully, it will keep our little goober nuggets safe and sound for many months to come!

Nothing makes me feel older than having the doctors constantly point out that I am of “Advanced Maternal Age.”  Even when they don’t say it out loud, you can always find paperwork inconspicuously labelled “AMA.”  I’m 35 for goodness sake!  It’s not like I am 100 or something.  OK.. I know that they do it for a reason.  I have more of a chance for complications or chromosomal abnormalities because my eggs are old and stale from sitting around for 35 years…. but still!  Can’t they think of a better name like “Slightly-Higher Maternal Age” or “She’s Really Not That Old”?  They might as well just call me “Old and Stale Girl.”

Anyway… because of my “Advanced Maternal Age,” the doctor recommended that we get a Nuchal Translucency screening to check for chromosomal abnormalities (such as Downs Syndrome and Trisomy 13/18) before they stitch me up.  The Nuchal is just an “ultrasound on steriods” and they combine the findings with a bloodtest to determine my odds of having babies with chromosomal abnormalities.  The Nuchal was like torture as it took an hour for the babies to flip in the proper position for the tech to take her measurements.  I thought that my stomach was going to rip open from all of the pressure.  I almost drowned in ultrasound jelly!

We got the results right away and in a rare moment of good luck, we actually received fabulous results.  Before the screening, we had about a 1 in 253 chance of having a baby with Downs Syndrome and a 1 in 451 chance of Trisomy 18/13 (purely based on my risks as a mom with “Advanced Maternal Age”   After the screening, we supposedly have a 1 in about 3,000 chance of Downs and 1 in 9,000 chance of Trisomy.

As a bonus, they have this fun graph that shows your adjusted age based on the risks and it says that I have an equivalent risk of a 20 year old.  I am only 20 years old now and I have paperwork from my doctor to prove it.  So there! 

Had a much less stressful appointment on Tuesday.  Of course, as expected it wasn’t without it’s tear-works.  Those Phillips girls know how to put on  a waterworks show even with positive and hopeful news.  After waiting for 45 minutes to get in to see the Dr. and then playing musical exam rooms we finally made it to the ultrasound room.   Now, while I’m sure every woman in the known universe will tell you that the T.V. (no I don’t mean television) ultrasound is far worse for the woman and that the man should just shut up and be glad he’s not sitting on the table in her place…I beg to differ.  Now before the horde attacks me with indignation at the nerve I could have at even saying such a preposterous thing, let me explain by letting you in on the male thought process while sitting in the tiny cramped room full of medical equipment:

“I hate doctor’s offices.  At least that’s not me sitting up on that table half-naked with tissue paper sticking to me.  Oh, crap.  Did I say that outloud?  If I did she’s going to kill me.  La la la la la la la la la la.  NASCAR.  Football.  Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue.   I could so use a beer.  Where the hell is this doctor so we can get the hell out of here.  I wonder who won the football game last night.  Oh wait, the wife is talking to me.  What did she say?  Quick, I need an answer.”

“I love you dear!”

“That should do it, always distract them with the ‘I love you.’”

Says the wife, “Are you even listening to me?  What did I just say?”

“Oh crap, crap, crap!”

Now, women don’t seem to understand how hard it can be to fake paying attention sometimes, and then if we’re ever caught, we have to work on the fly to come up with some excuse by distracting you with things that you rarely here after the wedding day.  The sweet little nothings you long for but only hear when we’re looking for something in return, like silence while trying to watch the television.  That’s a lot of stress.  A LOT of stress.  Clearly more than the meager amount you may be facing while waiting, not for the ultrasound, but rather for a photograph of you unborn child(ren).  Whom, by the way,  you are sitting and deciding on names for.  You don’t even know the sex yet and already you are coming up with your short-list of names.  In the meantime while you are filled with excitement over seeing the little one(s) floating around and forgetting about the hell they are putting your body through as you are amazed at the miracle of life, contemplating whether you like ‘Bill,’ ‘Billy,’ or ‘William’ better.  The male is still thinking about how he’s going to avoid the wrath of a crazy, emotionally unstable pregnant woman.  All the while hoping that he makes it home alive and in one piece.

Right, totally not why you are reading this though is it?  Okay.  Fine.

Update – The Next Two Weeks

Dr. Maddox is on-board and completely non-judgemental and on board with whatever decisions we make.  He will do what is necessary for a positive outcome for our babies.  So, here’s what is coming up.

1. Thursday, August 27, Edie is getting the first-half of her first trimester screening done to identify risks for chromosomal abnormalities (i.e. Down’s Syndrome).
2. Thursday, September 10, Edie is getting a nuchal translucency test.  Which looks for the possibility of fetal abnormalities (i.e. cardiac issues).  Neither are sure things and only identify possiblities.
3. Friday, September 11.  Edie is scheduled for her cerclage.  It will be an outpatient service and should only involve being in the hospital for a few hours at most.  Upon returning home that afternoon bed rest will commence for the ‘long haul.’

If all goes well, Edie will be on bed rest at home for quite awhile.  If the cerclage is not holding its own than she will be hospitalized for close supervision, but everything is being taken one step at a time.  By our request, she will be watched over by both the hopeful and positive OB and the depressing Grinch of a high-risk specialist.  Together, we hope they will be able to effectively extend the pregnancy and provide all the information necessary to deliver these babies in a timely manner.  Here’s hoping two heads are better than one.

Where do I even begin….

Last Thursday was our appointment with a high-risk specialist.  Last Thursday was the worst day of this pregnancy so far.  We have been preparing ourselves for years.  We knew that if we were to get pregnant again it wasn’t going to be easy for anyone.  We knew a cerclage was going to be necessary.  We knew that a premature birth was likely.  We have been educating ourselves for this scenario.  We felt confident and prepared.

Problem is, we never planned on twins.

Twins (multiples) it’s probably one of the worst things you can hear when you have an incompetent cervix.  Or so we thought at first.  We processed the ‘twin’ news and again rebuilt our confidence that while that will make things even tougher it was not an insurmountable problem.  We’ve lost too many children.  We don’t intend to lose anymore.  Then the high-risk specialist decided to throw another monkey wrench at us…

“Selective Reduction.”  AKA Selective Abortion.  AKA Killing your unborn child.

I was stunned to hear it, even though I knew that was something they would throw out there.  I was quite honestly speechless.  I didn’t even know how to process what he was saying.  On top of that, it was clearly the doctor’s preference.  A lot of emphasis was placed on killing a twin rather than what can be done to save them both.  Granted the odds of saving both…they’re not so hot.  In addition, the treatment for incompetent cervix while fairly standard has an outcome that is disputed by doctors.  No one seems to agree whether cerclage or bed rest are effective in prolonging pregnancy.

But…there is a chance.  There is hope.  These twins will have a better chance than Christopher or Alexander ever had.   The twins do not have a voice of their own, but as their parents we will do the same we would do for our three year old daughter.  We are their voice and we will fight for them.  They will be granted everything medically possible to give them whatever chance we can offer them.  We will not rely solely on the recommendations of our doctors we will draw on our previous experience and the experience of a community of fellow parents who have been through this as well.  We will be aggressive with our doctors and we will demand nothing less than the full and complete cooperation of a doctor who will stand behind us 100% with the goal of delivering our twins into the world alive, and healthy.

There will be sacrifices, we’re not in denial about that.  The death of our other children clearly put a strain on our relationship.  It took years to return to a state of normalcy.  Now we have a daughter to support and care for as well.  Now we have ridiculous commutes and a crappy economy that has ruined our ability to sell our home.  The deck is stacked against us.  But somehow we always manage to survive what is thrown at us.

In the end, I still aim to hold my healthy living twins in my arms and laugh in the face of incompetent cervixes everywhere.

So, it’s the day before the first ‘official’ ultrasound and I get a call from Mommy Inc.  I can tell she is in the car driving home.  Uh Oh.  That can only mean one of two things.  A – She’s sick, B – well… Daycare called to report that little Iz was vomiting and needed a pickup.  Guess, I was going to miss the appointment on Friday since I certainly can’t go in Mommy Inc.’s place.

Fast forward to Friday. 10:12 AM EDT.  Mommy Inc. calls me after her appointment kind of crying, sort of not. I’m not even sure what I would call it.  She’s odd, so I just chalk it up to her supreme oddness. She starts telling me that everything is okay and fills me in on the appointment.  ‘I saw the baby’s heartbeat and everything’s okay and baby ‘Bee’ is okay too.’ What?  What’s a baby bee?   Huh?  The baby beat?  You already told me you saw the heartbeat?  What? What is a ‘bee?’

Oh!  She was talking about Baby ‘B’ as in not Baby ‘A’

We’re having twins of the fraternal sort.

I’m not entirely sure why Isabel wants to be difficult about what she eats. The meatballs in her spaghetti are not going to hurt her. That macaroni and cheese is actually good and contrary to belief does not contain flesh eating bacteria or alien worms, and the yellow sauce is really just cheese.  Besides, apparently she has ingested her own pee in utero.

As your baby matures inside you, much of that urine will be excreted into the amniotic fluid, swallowed again by your baby, and then excreted again in a continuous cycle.  (What to Expect When You’re Expecting, Week 7)

I would think even brussel sprouts would be an improvement over that.

Our little 1/4 inch squishy is kicking my butt!  How is it possible that something so beautiful can make you feel so awful?  I have been laying on the couch literally all day while my wonderfully, amazing hubby has been taking care of everything.  I am so lucky.