Christmas Gratitudes

You know, I think I had been feeling pretty happy and thankful for all the blessings in my life lately. But the past few weeks, I had also been feeling sad for things that were missing this Christmas - loved ones who have died this past year who I wasn't sending Christmas cards to (there were more this year than ever before in my life), my children's sweet school that closed last year and their Christmas pageant (in its place, a very cute but completely un-Christmas-ed production at their new school), our old church and their magnificent ringing bells... Well, I guess God decided to wake me up and turn up that gratitude a notch, because I landed myself in the hospital this week.

I have battled a UTI/kidney infection on and off since Wyatt's birth. Every time I was put on antibiotics, it got better. Every time I finished the antibiotics, it came back. I have kidney stones (11, if you want to know) that according to my urologist might have helped hang onto the infection. Well, last week the infection came back, and by Sunday I was feeling really, really bad. I made it through Monday thanks to the miracle powers of a LOT of coffee, and dragged myself to the doctor on Tuesday. My lab results didn't look pretty. I was pleading with him to make this go away forever. I felt and looked awful. So, here I am, in room 3057, getting IV antibiotics and fluids. He told me he also wanted me to get some rest - it took some effort not to laugh. He's obviously never spent the night in a hospital. I got 1 hour and 35 minutes of sleep my first 24 hours here. But I also got some medicine that has helped me feel so, so much better!

My first night, when I felt physically horrible and exhausted and couldn't sleep because of all the people coming into my room, my friend who lives in Armenia right now kept me company all night long. We laughed about my awful nurse. We laughed about my awesome patient care tech named Orlando, who danced around my room, "We've got a full house! We're rockin' it on 3 North tonight!" And she listened to me whine and whine and whine.

Another friend volunteered to be my breastmilk courier. Three times a day, she's come by to pick up milk and deliver it home to Wyatt. She also brought me snacks and bought toilet paper for my family so Davis wouldn't have to drag all the kids to the store. They even called me to make sure they got the right brand.

On Facebook, my friends sent me well wishes and prayers and cheered me up with funny posts and sweet private messages. Yesterday afternoon I felt really sad, because I missed my baby. I've never spent the night away from one of my little babies, and it was making me anxious and a little queasy and a LOT sad. At around 2pm, I looked at a picture of him and sobbed for an hour. I literally didn't know how I was going to make it through another 24 hours without holding him. It's the middle of winter, and I'm on a general medicine floor, so there was just no way I was going to drag a new baby up here into the germosphere. But I wanted him sooo badly. Four friends called me and many more sent me texts, and I was lifted up and carried through that sadness, until my lovely day nurse came in and took pity on me. She suggested that Davis bring the kids up in the car, and they would unhook me and let me go downstairs. I literally jumped up, called Davis, and ran downstairs. Nursing my little baby in the car while my other kids jibber-jabbered at me was the best thing EVER! I came back upstairs and my nurse looked at me and said I looked like a new person. I felt like it too!

And at home, my sweet husband has been keeping the four kids and calling to tell me things like "oh I'm actually bored, things are going so well!" And friends are coming by with meals and homemade baked goodies. Friends are offering to help during a time that I know is crazy and busy for everyone. And my sweet Sophia, she slept next to baby Wyatt because she knew he would miss mama and, "Daddy, I know you're really tired, so if he wakes up and you don't hear him, I'll wake you up." She's SIX, my sweet oldest baby, and she always rises to the occasion.

And as I've sat here in room 3057, I have been overcome with the realization that I am so blessed. So, so blessed. To have these beautiful children that I love so much I can't stand to be away from them, to have a husband who can be home taking care of everything without batting an eye, to have THE best friends in the whole world, and to know that after a couple of days, I get to walk out of this hospital cured, and never looking back, and home in time for Christmas.

I have prayed a lot the last couple of days. I've prayed for all the people in this building who aren't getting to go home for Christmas. I've prayed for those who won't walk out of here healed. I've prayed for those who are alone and don't have friends and family to lift them up and carry them through. I've prayed for the old woman in the room next to me, who is here from a nursing home and doesn't know where she is, so she cries and screams in confusion all night long. I've prayed for those who have lost children and don't get to go back and hold them again after a couple of days of separation. Yes, these days before Christmas, my eyes have been opened and I've been reminded powerfully of how blessed I am.

A friend brought me a beautiful collection of Celtic prayers last night. This one is from Celtic Prayers from Iona by Phillip Newell

Watch now O Christ
With those who are weary
Or wandering
Or weeping this night.
Guide them to a house
Of your peace
And lead us to be caring
For their tears.

One More C-Section Post

When I thought I would have to have a c-section earlier in my pregnancy and started to read/ask about it, I got myself pretty worried. As with many things (including vaginal births) I think you tend to hear way more horror stories than you do good ones. I did have one friend and my cousin tell me reassuring things about their recoveries, and those were the stories that I clung onto when I was told I would be having a c-section after all.

Of course, everyone is different. And there are lots of reasons that one might have a harder (or easier) recovery than another person. I had no major complications, though my incision did end up almost 13 inches long and I am still pretty bruised from the mashing they did on me to get him out.

I wanted to finish writing about my recovery, so that I remember if someone later asks me, and also for anyone random Googlers of "c-section recovery" out there...

I am now ten days out from my c-section, and I would say that I am 90% back to normal. As of yesterday, I am not taking Motrin anymore (the only pain medicine I have really needed). I can get out of bed, bend down, twist around, and walk without pain. Other than not lifting heavy things (including Henry) I am not really limiting my activities at all, though wanting to spend lots of time snuggling and nursing this sweet little thing

makes it easier for me to "take it easy" rather than overdoing it with housework or running around. But I have taken Sophia to a party, gone shopping, done laundry, gone out to dinner, met friends for coffee, and taken Wyatt to the pediatrician a couple of times - all things I would normally be doing a week postpartum.

So what's not normal yet? The lifting - I hate not being able to pick up Henry. But I am committed to making sure my insides heal okay, and would hate to make it this far and then re-tear a muscle or something. The pain - I do have a little bit of stinging/burning pain occasionally at the edges of my incision, but nothing too bad or needing pain medicine. The clothes - aside from having a much more pronounced belly (basically, I do still look at least 6 months pregnant!) than ever before after having a baby, it is also still uncomfortable for waistbands to hit at my incision. So, I have been cutting the elastic off the front of my underwear and wearing either fold-over yoga pants or maternity jeans with a soft belly panel. Or dresses. Or just a t-shirt and locking the front door.

So, although it has definitely been harder of a recovery than my other births, there has been nothing just terrible about having a c-section. Because I only get limited maternity leave, every day is precious to me. With my other births, I probably lost one or two days after birth to "recovery" time for me, whereas this time I would say I lost about a week. But it sure was worth it for a healthy Wyatt!

C-Section

Well, now that I have had a medicated vaginal hospital delivery, a homebirth, and a c-section, and I wrote a post about my homebirth experience, I thought I would do a post about my c-section.

First of all, I have ZERO regrets about having a c-section. After the losses we have had and the scares of this pregnancy, I know all too well that truly the only thing that matters is the safe delivery of a healthy baby. For many reasons, I think the least-invasive safe delivery of a healthy baby is best for everyone involved (I can say that with even more conviction now that I've had all modes of delivery), but there is no part of me that second-guesses or doubts our decision to have Wyatt via c-section. I am lucky that I have had a natural birth, so I don't feel cheated out of that experience or like I will never know what it's like. I am also lucky that Wyatt is our last baby, so I haven't affected future deliveries with the section.

The biggest difference to me between a natural birth and a c-section is ridiculously obvious now that I put it in writing... it's how UNnatural the experience was. I was truly shocked with Henry's labor and delivery just how natural it all was. We had taken no childbirth classes, and no one at the birth was telling me what was going on or what I needed to do - my body knew EXACTLY what to do. I forgot even the things I read - all of my coping mechanisms, all the ways I moved and didn't move, when to push and not push, etc. were done completely passively by my body and not by any decisions on my part. It blew my mind, and I don't think I've ever done anything that felt so natural.

On the other hand, having a c-section was just freakish. Really. The closest analogy I can think of, and what I thought of when it was happening, was that this is what it might feel like to be abducted by aliens. I can't even describe the weirdness of feeling people taking your organs out and reaching up inside of your cut open abdomen while you're awake. I had a small panic attack when I first got to the OR, partly because I had had only about 40 minutes to think about the fact that I was about to have a c-section. And of course I had spent that whole time thinking about Wyatt and not the fact that I was about to have surgery. So when it finally hit me that I was there to get cut open, it freaked me out. Whereas going into labor with Henry was exhilarating and I had a total peace about it, going into the c-section was scary.

The hardest thing about having a c-section has been how sad I am that it is affecting my ability to be a mother to my children. I kept apologizing to Wyatt in the hospital that he has such a lame mom - several times he had to cry hungrily while I wiggled and squirmed my way up to get him out of his bassinet. I was completely awkward changing his diaper and burping him the first few times. Simple things like being able to get down and kneel next to Amelia's bed at bedtime to pray and say good night like we always do, it makes me so sad that I can't. And probably most of all, I am heartbroken for Henry. More than probably ever in his life, he wants and needs me to pick him up and snuggle him and physically love on him. I remember when Amelia was born, Sophia (who had always been a great sleeper) started waking up at night, and all she needed was some extra TLC - I would go into her room and just hold and kiss her until she fell back asleep and after a couple of weeks, she was back to sleeping through the night. It kills me that when Henry reaches his arms up to me, I can't swoop down and pick him up. We're learning to sit and have him crawl up next to me, but I am even scared to let him onto my lap yet, for fear that he will accidentally hurt my incision. I knew that I wouldn't be able to do things like bathe the kids or pick them up, but I am shocked at how much I can't do for/with them, and I hate it.

Pain wise... there is not even a comparison between the births. Henry's was by FAR the least painful birth (labor, birth, and recovery), followed by Amelia and Sophia, followed by Wyatt. Even recovering from a third degree tear, the pain after a c-section is just a lot worse. Having said that, it's really not as bad as I had feared. I was really scared, remembering how much pain I was in after having my gall bladder out. But having an incision at the bottom of my abdomen compared to the top makes it less painful to move around. And just like with a vaginal delivery, the distraction of having a sweet newborn makes the pain much easier to ignore. It's been surprisingly nice to have a totally in-tact and un-painful perineum after birth - there have been several times that I've been consciously thankful for that. But people who actually WANT to have a c-section because they are scared of the pain of childbirth are crazy nuts.

Obviously the recovery time is totally different. With all of my vaginal deliveries, I was pretty much back to my normal physical state within 24 hours - going shopping, doing laundry, etc. With Henry, the midwife had to scold me to get back in bed about 20 minutes after he was born, when she caught me standing up and digging through a laundry basket of clean clothes to find a robe.

I am only 4 days out from surgery, but I thought I would also write down some of the things that I was told or have come up with that I think have helped this be about as painless and good of an experience as it can be. I also wanted to write down how my recovery has been so far, because I know this is the kind of thing I'll forget very soon. I was so thankful for my friends who had had c-sections, who told me what to expect and gave me advice - so I want to remember this stuff if someone asks later.

Wyatt was born at 11:45 in the morning. The first 12 hours after the surgery I was pretty immobile. I really didn't move at all - as my friend Susan said, "just enough to keep from getting bed sores!" Ha! It actually worried me, how much it hurt just to try to roll to one side or sit up. Getting Wyatt out of his bassinet, getting in position or nurse him, trying to burp him and change his diapers - those were all really hard at first. A video camera in my room would have been funny, as I am sure I looked ridiculous wiggling around trying to make it work. The good thing is...

Right around midnight, which is when they started my IV Toradol (the best!), the pain got 1000x better and I was able to move around in the bed without much trouble. The Toradol was a lot more effective for me than the epidural Fentanyl. For the rest of the night, I was able to take care of Wyatt without problems and really didn't have much pain. Going from laying to sitting was painful, so I slept mostly upright in my bed.

At around 10 am on Day 1 after surgery, I got out of bed. I had a lot of people standing around ready to catch me if I fell, but I had no trouble getting out of bed by myself. Everything - like stretching out when I stood up - hurt at first, but I found out that after I powered through that, it was so much easier the next time. I shuffled to the bathroom, sat on the toilet, and gave myself the most awesome sponge bath EVER! Seriously, it was wonderful because I felt really gross. The nurses changed my bedding and gave me a new gown, and I even brushed my hair - aah!

24 hours after surgery, I started walking around the room regularly. Several people had told me to walk as much and as early as possible, and I really do think it made a big difference. About every hour or so, I would get out of bed and just piddle around the room for about 10 minutes and then lay back down. Around 3pm on Day 1, I asked them to take out my epidural. Honestly, I didn't feel any difference - I think the Toradol was really what was keeping my pain away. And the epidural made me itchy. After that, I started walking the halls. I pushed Wyatt's bassinet and did two laps around the unit, which also took about 10-14 minutes. I did that three times on Day 1, as well as continuing to get out of bed regularly to go to the bathroom (I drink a LOT of water when I'm first breastfeeding!) and just walk around the room. Going from sitting to standing, or lying to sitting, was still painful all day, but only during those transitions.

On Day 2, I was disconnected from my IV and was finally free from all tubes and monitors. I got up pretty early and packed up all my stuff - I was excited after my doctor saw me and agreed to let me go home! I did take the Percocet they had prescribed me for the first time, because I was scared of how I would feel once the Toradol left my system. I was having some burning pain around my incision and it still hurt to transition from lying to sitting to standing, but everything was tolerable. I went home at around 2 pm on Day 2.

I discovered that actually the more I was on my feet, the better I felt. If I spent too long in bed, I would feel really achy and sore afterwards. Plus I was just REALLY happy to be home! So when I got home, I spent the rest of the afternoon straightening up the house (no bending down to the floor or lifting - just putting away dishes, etc.) and just walking around. The only medicine I took at this point was Motrin every 6 hours - I did take that every 6 hours regardless of whether I was hurting or not. I was still having burning pain around my incision, so I decided to put one of those perineal cold pads that I used after my vaginal deliveries on my incision. Oh my gosh, it felt SO good! I kept one on my incision for the next two days, and it made ALL my incision discomfort go away. Late on Day 2, I decided to take a nap after nursing the baby, and without thinking about it, I laid down flat on my back... until I woke up and was stuck there like a turtle! I hadn't thought about the fact that at the hospital I used the automatic bed to get up and down. Davis helped me up while I yelled and said bad words. After that, I slept propped up on a few pillows, with more pillows piled next to me. When it was time to get up, I'd stuff those other pillows behind my back to slowly bring myself up. By the middle of Day 3, I wasn't having any more trouble sitting up normally.

Today was Day 3. Honestly, I feel fine. Other than not lifting anything and not bending down to the floor, I have been about as active as I might normally be on a weekend day at home - fixing lunch and taking care of the house and kids, but nothing too ambitious -dinner was leftovers from the wonderful spaghetti that someone from church brought us last night. I have found that I DO need to keep taking the Motrin. I ran out this morning and didn't take it for most of the night and day, but I got pretty sore after about 10 hours and am back on it now. As long as I take the Motrin, I'm not really having much pain. I am just achy and sore, maybe like I would feel the day after a strenuous work out. The thing that's bothering me the most, actually, is the tape burn I have from my surgical dressing - it is very raised and red and itchy. I have been putting cortisone cream on it, and that is helping a little. I have also found that, other than on Day 1, the afterpains haven't been nearly as bad this time as before, and I think it's because I have been really good about drinking Red Raspberry Leaf Tea - I drink about 3 strong cups a day.

One thing I was worried about was breastfeeding, because I had heard it can be harder after a c-section. I don't know if it's because this is my fourth baby, but I really didn't find that to be the case. I have a huge gross belly between by boobs and my incision, so I haven't had any trouble nursing in normal positions. Only the first 12 hours were hard, because I couldn't move well to re-position myself or baby.

So, in a nutshell, my advice would be:

1. Get up and walk as soon as you can after surgery. Without wearing yourself out, walk as often as you can.

2. Use non-steroidal anti-inflammatory medications (Toradol in the hospital/Motrin at home) - honestly, I think they work way better than narcotics.

3. Get some perineal cold pads (the L&D unit has them, so snag those, but you can order more online) and put them on your incision.

4. Drink Red Raspberry Leaf Tea starting one cup a day your whole third trimester and increase after 36 weeks (I never did, because of my preterm labor) and then drink lots after the baby is born.

So, that was my c-section experience. NOW I need to figure out how to get back in shape, lose the EIGHTY pounds I need to lose to get back to my pre-kids weight, and tone up this INSANE belly!! But first... there's a baby who needs snuggles next to me :)

P.S. - I just remembered, I have started taking arnica tablets too. Because they had so much trouble getting Wyatt out and were mashing on me, cutting more, using the vacuum, etc. I am pretty bruised up around my incision. We'll see if it helps.

Emergency Room Adventures

I have really struggled this week with fear about this pregnancy. And just as I was using all my might to convince myself that everything would be okay, I started bleeding yesterday. I called my doctor's office, and because he was out of town and the other doctors' schedules, I was told just to go to the ER. It took until midnight last night for me to get up the nerve to go in. I just kept trying to pretend nothing was happening and like if I just ignored it, it would all go away.

I finally decided that rather than quietly freaking out all night long, I would get it over with and go in. I just couldn't face the same ER where I found out about Violet, and especially not that agonizing 2 hour wait between when they silently do the ultrasound, turned so you can't see, until the radiologist reads the results and someone comes to tell you. So I opted to go to the ER where I work, which is always kind of nice because they never make me wait - within about 20 minutes of walking in the door, I was talking to the doctor, and 5 minutes after that he had an ultrasound machine and was showing me a healthy baby heart beat. Phew!

My A+ friend Sarah met me there. We ended up being there until after 3 a.m., and she stayed with me the whole time which made the whole thing a billion times more bearable. After the doctor did a quickie ultrasound, he sent me upstairs to have a for-real ultrasound done, and let me just say... I have never, ever been probed like that before. Oh my word. It HURT. She just kept saying "I'm looking for your ovaries, I can't find them!" I was like "Lady, I have three kids, I KNOW I have ovaries." Also, I don't think I'll need them anymore, so I don't really care. But she pretty much stuck the ultrasound wand up into my lungs looking for them. You're welcome.

It turns out I have a subchorionic hemorrhage, which is just a pocket of blood outside the amniotic sac. It can increase the risk of miscarriage, but most often resolves on its own. I was told to take it easy, try to stay off my feet, not lift things, etc. I did see the OB today as well, who said as long as the bleeding was getting less (which it is) I could carry on like normal, just nothing jarring like running or other aerobic exercise and no heavy lifting (he said Henry was not "heavy" - yay!)

BUT the actually funny part about all of this (because mostly it was scary and exhausting), was that the whole time we were in the ER, after someone would leave my room, Sarah always said "they think we're a couple!" But I just laughed and didn't believe her. I was even joking in the ultrasound room, when I had to strip off my bottoms and Sarah offered to leave the room, "it's nothing you haven't seen before, honey!" because I thought NO WAY could anyone think we were lesbians.

Well, this morning, after the fear and blurriness of last night passed, I started thinking... it was really odd that the first question they asked me was whether this baby was conceived via IVF. I remember thinking why would you ask that? But it didn't click until this morning. And then the doctor kept asking me if I had questions, and then he'd look at Sarah, with that concerned look, and ask her if she had any questions. Ha ha ha ha ha ha!! I called Sarah today and said, "oh my gosh, you were right!" We had a good laugh about it.

I am delirious, I got about 3 hours of sleep last night and had a long day of working and running around. As soon as I get the kids to bed (about 20 minutes), I'm OUT!

Stay tuned... new Vegetable of the Week post coming up soon!

Angels

When I began spotting Thursday evening, even though it was the lightest spotting (I had much heavier bleeding during my pregnancy with Amelia), I just knew something was gravely wrong. In fact, for about a week, I had already had a nagging feeling in the back of my mind that things were not alright with the baby, but I shooed those feeling away. I convinced myself it was fine, and I pretended Thursday and Friday that the spotting was normal. When I called the doctor on call Friday night (not my doctor) and she told me not to worry, I wanted to say "you're wrong, my baby won't make it," but instead I sighed a sigh of relief and pretended to believe her. All day Saturday, the feelings of dread grew stronger and harder to ignore. I had told Davis that I was spotting, but didn't tell him until Saturday night that I thought I was losing the baby. He said "go to the ER right now!"

And so I did. And as soon as I did, I could no longer ignore my dread. I felt a tightness in my chest, my heart raced and ached. Still, I wanted to hold it together in case I was wrong. I put on a brave face and told nurses things like, "I'm sure I'm just being paranoid, the spotting is light..." But right before the ultrasound tech put her wand on my stomach, the moment that I knew someone would know whether my baby was really alive or not, I completely lost it. I started sobbing uncontrollably. The tech couldn't tell me anything and her face was like stone, but during those 20 minutes that she scanned and scanned and scanned, and the hour afterward while I waited for the doctor to come tell me, things were dark. I felt profoundly alone and the dread was like a sucking black hole in the center of my chest - I couldn't focus on anything, I could no longer reassure myself. When the doctor finally walked in, I thought this is the moment I will remember for the rest of my life, whatever words he says now will stick with me forever. "Well, I have some bad news. There was no heartbeat. I'm sorry." Even though I already knew, those words tore through me, and I will remember them forever.

I had started reaching out and texting friends when I arrived in the ER. And by the next morning, they were texting and calling and emailing and showing up at my door. And they started praying. As some of my friends hugged me, I wept hard, and their embraces would tighten. More phone calls and emails and blog comments and texts flooded in from people praying for me. As I started feeling the isolation that comes with grief, I remembered those brave women who have shared their own stories of loss with me - directly or through their blogs.

One of the saddest moments of my life, was looking at my baby on ultrasound yesterday - my perfect, tiny baby, with feet and hands and a sweet little face. My baby who should have been waving and wiggling and bouncing around, was still. My baby's heart, which should have been flickering, was still. But as soon as my heartache became too much, my friend who was with me wrapped her arms around me and held me so tight as I cried. When I was briefly away from Davis in the pre-op area this morning, my dear friend and a deacon at church came and prayed with me and gave me a precious gift. As she held me, I heard the beating of her heart like the steady beat of a drum, reminding me that we are alive and not alone. When I was in the operating room, right before I was put to sleep, my OB walked up to the head of my bed and he stood there and looked me in the eyes - it's the last thing I remember, and all I felt was thankful and safe that I was in his hands.

And as those around me cloaked me in hugs and prayers, the peace came. For two days now, I have been at peace. I am intensely sad, but I am no longer anxious. I no longer feel out of control, there is no more sucking void, no more tightness in my chest.

This morning as I showered and dressed and packed my bag for the hospital, when I walked through those hospital doors - the same hospital where I had delivered my girls and spent days in Labor and Delivery in preterm labor with Henry - and when I filled out paperwork and answered hard questions asked by strangers, I felt calm. When I woke up from anesthesia and realized I was no longer pregnant, I was alone with a nurse I did not know, and I cried, but I did not feel alone. I was not consumed. When I lay in bed late at night in the dark and feel soaked in sorrow, I literally feel the arms of my friends around me. I can feel hands on my shoulders, I can feel being pulled closer, I can feel the beating of their hearts against my ear. And I don't feel alone. I feel their prayers like a shawl around me, protecting me. When waves of sadness come, it is those prayers and God's peace that keeps me from drowning. When I am alone, it is those lingering embraces that remind me I am not alone. When my body and mind need rest, it is only because of those prayers and God's peace that I have been given deep and merciful sleep. When I feel too fragile to walk out my door or write on my blog, it is the strength of those prayers and that support that I feel shielded and safe. Because of the bravery of those women who have shared their own grief with me, that I feel brave enough to do the same.

If you are one those angels who have been put in my path and prayed for me, reached out to me, hugged me, shared your own stories of loss - thank you. It is because of you that I am okay. And Lord, because of You I am not consumed; I have renewed hope every morning because of You.

The LORD is my strength and my shield; my heart trusted in him, and I am helped: therefore my heart greatly rejoiceth; and with my song will I praise him.
Psalm 28:7

Showered!

Yesterday my sweet friends from work threw me a baby shower! They even moved it to my living room so that I could attend :)

They brought yummy, yummy food - this is about half of it



I got so, so many sweet and adorable gifts. Plus lots of useful stuff like diapers and wipes and Aquaphor (am I the only one who uses this on everything from diaper rashes to cuts and scrapes to chapped lips?)





And aren't these BabyLegs just the cutest?!? I loved them for the girls - especially when they were crawling age and when they were potty training and wearing dresses (much easier to deal with than tights!)



But even more so than the food or the gifts, it was SO great to have a roomful of friends to visit with! It was a blast and totally lifted me up!



When Sophia came home later, she surveyed everything



My friend Jennifer brought a huge basket of gifts, including several things for the girls, which they were very excited about. Sophia was also excited about all the things for baby Henry - she's been doing more to prepare for his arrival than any of us! In fact, today she pestered her daddy into working on the nursery (with her help of course) - yay!!

As for this little girl



she has pneumonia.

Sophia came down with a little cold on Monday, and by Thursday mid-day she was pretty much totally over it. Amelia started getting sick Tuesday, and by Thursday night was feeling really bad. She just couldn't stop coughing, to the point of throwing up. I made her some warm tea with honey and lemon and tried to get her settled back down. Well, she continued to cough and not breathe well, until I noticed the areas around her mouth and her fingertips were turning blue. When I lifted her shirt, I noticed she was retracting when she took a breath. So I packed her up and sent her and her daddy off to the emergency room. It is SO, so hard for me to delegate this medical stuff to him - I wrote out her allergies and symptoms and everything on a notecard for him to take, but I just knew this was one area where I normally take charge for a reason. Well, sure enough, after five hours in the ER, despite one doctor being concerned, another doctor decided that Amelia just had a virus and sent them home. The next morning the ER nurse called back to let us know a radiologist had looked at her chest x-ray and she actually has pneumonia. UGH, that makes me so mad! So I sent her and Davis to her pediatrician yesterday afternoon and she's now being treated with the medicines she needs and hopefully will be feeling better soon!

That's the latest in our family medical drama land.

Hope everyone is having a wonderful long weekend! The weather has warmed up so much here, although it's dreary and rainy - not that I'm going anywhere anyway ha!

My Oma and Meeting Our Insurance Deductibles

Tuesday after my OB appointment, my dad called me from Florida to tell me that my grandmother had passed away. He was visiting her there last week when she got sick, and it became clear pretty quickly that she wasn't going to recover. Oma was 89 years old (we were planning a big family reunion party for her 90th this summer) and lived a very full life, but we will miss her. She is finally with my Opa, who we have been missing for ten years, and Ma - her mother - who we have been missing for twenty years. I wish I could be there for my dad. I am now planning a reunion in Wisconsin this summer with his side of the family to celebrate her life. I have been wanting to scan in some pictures of her to share, but that will have to wait until I get my scanner hooked up (and since that involves moving the printer/fax/scanner across the house, Davis will have to do it for me, and I am trying to limit is honey do list - he is having to do way too much already!)

At my OB appointment Tuesday, my sweet doctor walked in and asked how I was doing and I opened my mouth and said "I'm tired" and promptly burst into tears. I'd been having contractions for three days straight. Then my blood pressure was up and she decided to run some labs to make sure I wasn't getting preeclampsia, and then she told me that I just earned myself twice a week appointments with her.

Thankfully my appointment today was much better. My contractions finally settled down last night and have been very sporatic today, so I felt like I got a little break. My blood pressure was down and my labs came back normal. And my cervix hasn't changed. And tomorrow I'm 33 weeks - just one week from the coveted 34 weeks! My next appointment is Tuesday, hopefully another quick and uneventful one with no tears.

But it's hard not to get a little spooked by the beginning of this year. We are two weeks into 2010 and
-my father-in-law was hospitalized with sepsis (he is okay),
-his mother broke her wrist (she is okay),
-I have been put on bed rest for preterm labor,
-I have a kidney stone,
-Amelia was diagnosed with an astigmatism yesterday and will probably need glasses,
-my grandmother got pneumonia and died,
-Sophia got her very first ear infection,
-and tonight Amelia is in the Emergency Room with her daddy because she is having trouble breathing.*

I keep telling myself we're just getting it all out of the way and meeting our deductibles (my dad also totaled his car and a pipe burst and flooded his whole house while he was in Florida) at the beginning of the year.

I promised some pictures, so here's all I have to share - this afternoon this is what was on either side of me as I worked from bed



*Amelia has unfortunately inherited my asthma. The girls both have had a fever virus with a cough this week, but tonight Amelia just couldn't stop coughing. At first she just coughed until she threw up. I gave her some cough medicine and fixed her some warm chamomile tea with lemon and lots of honey. She kept coughing and coughing and coughing. Then her little fingers and mouth started turning blue and when I lifted her shirt she was retracting - that was enough for me to send her packing. I'm sure she'll get a breathing treatment and be okay.

All of my troubles seem so small as the images from Haiti flow through my mind. I wanted to share a few ways I know of to help...

-Send a $10 Donation by Texting ‘Haiti’ to 90999 this goes to the Red Cross and shows up on your next phone bill. I did this, but sometimes during these times the Red Cross gets so many donations, they cannot get them out fast enough. So here are some other charities that I love.

-Architecture for Humanity uses skilled architects (my mother is an architect and for her birthday I usually give to this charity in her name) and other experts to help rebuild in areas like Haiti, and they are making plans to do so already. You can find out more and donate at http://www.architectureforhumanity.org/

-God's Littlest Angels is an awesome orphanage in Haiti that I have grown to love over the past five years. I first discovered them when I was trying to find a place to donate all the formula samples I got while pregnant with Sophia. Although they were thankfully not directly affected by the quake, I am sure they will feel the effects in the coming weeks and months, unfortunately. You can find out more and donate here http://glahaiti.org/

Another Trip to L&D

I hate hospitals. When the girls were born, I begged to go home pretty much as soon as they cut the cord, and was out of there less than 24 hours later. I've spent my fair share of time "sleeping" in hospitals with the girls when they were hospitalized, and I pretty much will do whatever I can to stay away from them now. But baby Henry seems to like it at the hospital - he keeps sending me there, and he's always extra active when they have him on the monitor. Silly boy.

Sunday evening I started having runs of somewhat regular, but light, contractions. They lasted all of Sunday night and most of Monday, but they would get irregular again and I would decide not to go in. By the afternoon I was starting to get a little more worried, and thinking I shouldn't ignore the "more than 5 in an hour" rule and just go get checked out. I was also starting to worry about Henry. I called a perinatologist I work with, and he answered some questions I had, which made me feel better even though what he told me wasn't that great - although 32 week preemies almost always do well compared to younger preemies, they cannot breathe or eat on their own. He said there was no telling what level of breathing support the baby would need, but he would almost certainly need some. He told me that babies can't suck/swallow until 34-35 weeks at the earliest, so he would need a feeding tube for a couple of weeks before we could start trying to nurse. Anyway, it was good to get the information and just know what we might have to deal with, and also once again to set my goal on making it to term - but at the very least to 34 weeks.

At around 7:30 p.m. my contractions were 5-8 minutes apart, though still not painful. I went in to L&D and was disappointed to discover that my OB wasn't on call. I love my OB, but I don't love her partners. They checked me and thankfully I had not dilated any more. They gave me fluids and then the doctor decided to send me home, although by that point (around 10 p.m .) my contractions were 4-5 minutes apart, very regular, and starting to get painful. When I got home, I guess from the brief walking I did, my contractions suddenly went into overdrive. For the next three hours I had basically a repeat of early active labor with Amelia - very painful, but hopefully unproductive (I can't know for sure until I get checked again, but usually I have some bleeding when I really start dilating more quickly) contractions 2 minutes apart. I tried to be good and lay in bed, but honestly it was just too painful. So I took a shower until I ran out of hot water and rocked in a rocking chair. Finally I was able to deal with the pain a little better and laid back down on my side, and around 2 a.m. the contractions let up enough that I was able to doze off. This morning the contractions continue - they are irregular and very weak, but my uterus is just worn out so they hurt (like doing sit ups when you're sore from your last work out).

I have an appointment with OB this afternoon. Hopefully she will tell me that my cervix has not changed and that Henry is doing great (so far, whenever I've been hooked up to monitors, he has tolerated these episodes very well). I hope too that, maybe, we can talk about what's going on with me. I am being very good about bed rest, I am staying hydrated like crazy (when I give them urine samples it looks like I just filled the jar with water!), and yet every few days my body totally wears itself out with these contractions. Honestly, it's hard to think about continuing like this for four or five more weeks. But the drugs they give me to stop contractions make me feel horrible too, and they aren't without risks. So for now, I will just have to hang in there and hope that Henry doesn't like hospitals so much that he makes his entrance too soon - because if he were born today, we would face 4-8 weeks in the NICU and the rest of us hate hospitals!

P.S. My blog is sad looking - it's my goal this week to get some pictures of the girls, even if it's just them sitting in my bed!

Maybe Useful Part II

I posted a while back about some things I have learned about having a child in the hospital.

I thought I would do a related post for anyone who might want to help a friend who has a hospitalized child (bless you!) Here are some things that meant so much to me, or would have meant so much to me (because Sophia's hospitalizations have been out of state, we didn't have as much of an immediate support system there, but are still so thankful for the friends and family we did have!)

-Come visit! Honestly, the thing I wanted most whenever I was spending days and days living in a hospital was just company. I think sometimes people aren't sure if they're intruding or interrupting, or think they have nothing to offer, but I can tell you that just having another adult in the room to BE with was the best. I'm no good at asking for help, and I spent some very lonely sad days in the hospital with Amelia (this was in our hometown, and Davis was home with Sophia). I had so many friends I could have - and should have! - called to come see me, but I didn't want to bother them.

-Bring food. I am SO thankful for all the people who fed Davis and Sophia while Amelia and I were in the hospital - we had several great friends and family members pitch in to invite them over and bring dishes to the house, which was great. But I absolutely CHERISHED the times that someone brought me food. I have now had the (dis)pleasure of eating food at two children's hospitals, and let me tell you, it's yuck. And since I was breastfeeding most of those stays, I was famished all of the time. Even McDonald's tasted heavenly compared to hospital food! So, if you're going by to visit, ask what food you can stop and pick up along the way. Or if it's not a meal time, bring some yummy snacks and drinks that don't require refrigeration.

-Although we adore ALL of the (millions!) of stuffed animals we got (really, we do!!) here are some other gift ideas for a child... coloring books and crayons, a small magnadoodle, card games, DVDs, small toys (Sophia discovered My Little Ponies while in the hospital), finger puppets, puzzles, and books.

-If you're a seamstress, and you know ahead of time child is going to have surgery and/or be hospitalized, make a hospital gown for him or her. My mother in law and I winged it on a pattern, and made several cute ones out of ultra-soft flannel. The gowns they have at the hospital are uncomfortable poly and not very soft or warm (or cute). Here are some of our creations:

-Offer to stay with the child while mom and/or dad get a break to eat, run home to shower, take a nap, etc. I have to admit, I was VERY unwilling to leave my kids when they were in the hospital. At one point I did not leave the hospital building for eight days straight (this was not good for my mental health). But even just having someone there so I could go to the bathroom or run to the Coke machine was great.

-If you'd like to bring something for mom and dad, suggestions are... reading material (magazines that require little concentration are great), notecards for thank you's, hand lotion to combat that corrosive hospital soap (this is the. best. ever. http://www.sephora.com/browse/product.jhtml?id=P39674&categoryId=C11831), food. Oh, did I mention food already? ;)

- Ask how you can help... and be persistent. Pick up dry cleaning? Gas up the car? Pick up a prescription? Babysit the other kids? Again, for me, it was so hard to ask for help - partly because I hate asking for help, and partly because I didn't know what I needed. Having a friend offer to do something specific was so wonderful!

-Offer to update a website. For Sophia's second hospitalization, we set up a Caringbridge site for our family (because there was some panic the first time - when she was sent to the ICU, I could not call anyone, and when people called the hospital to ask for her, they wouldn't release any information) My Blackberry wasn't working well with the Caringbridge website, so one of the best things a friend did for me was keep it updated for me - I would just text or email her updates and she would post them.

Thank yous

Sorry I have been MIA again... Sophia had her second surgery in Dallas last week. And everything went PERFECTLY. Enough of her nevus was removed that she will not have to have tissue expanders again (major YAY!), she had no pain or other issues like in the past, her nurses were terrific, and we came home Friday evening with a happy, healthy girl. She has not been on any pain medicine since then, and she's been running around and playing like nothing ever happened. She had her drains removed yesterday, so now we are officially DONE. She will continue to have some minor surgeries in the coming years, but nothing for a couple of years, and nothing as major as we've had in the last two years.

In the hospital, and after we got home, our wonderful friends and family send us lots of sweet things - balloons and stuffed animals, cards and email, cookies and coloring books, gift certificates for take-out food, and LOTS of prayers. Sophia and I have been writing thank you cards to all of our sweet friends for their kindness.

But there is one thank you card I haven't been able to put into words. We got Sophia a special new baby doll, wrapped in a shiny gold package, after her surgery (this baby doll was almost impossible to find, because, I discovered, she is the same baby doll little Shiloh Jolie-Pitt has been toting around!) Sophia named her Baby Emily, and Sophia's first postoperative smile can be attributed to her. At about 3 a.m., the night following her surgery, Sophia became lucid enough for some conversation, and it went like this...

Sophia: Mommy, why did you and Daddy get me Baby Emily? Is it for Christmas or something?
Me: We got Baby Emily for you, because you have been SO brave, and we are SO proud of you!

She smiled and thought for a minute. And then...

Sophia: Thank you, but... let's say a little prayer to God, and say thank you for helping me be brave.

My sweet three year old reminded me that God was still here. He heard my prayers when I was sitting in the waiting room for four hours, waiting for Sophia to come out of surgery. Now He was listening for my new prayer - my prayer of thanksgiving. It is so easy to have Sophia draw a picture and write "thank you for the cookies" on a card. But how do you thank the one Who allowed your child's skin to stretch more, Who gave her the strength to feel brave and safe, Who comforted us when we were anxious, Who gave us.... everything... why is it that the greater the gratitude, the harder it is to put into words?

I'm still working on it.



In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.
1 Thessalonians 5:18

Sophia

So today seems as good day as any to give the full story about Sophia's condition (get comfortable if you're interested!)

She was born with a birthmark, called a giant congenital melanocytic nevus. Basically, it's a mole. It is made up of the same cells that make up your moles. The thing is, it covered her entire chest - from her belly button to her neck, and from side to side to her back. She also has hundreds of "satellites," which are smaller nevi (plural of nevus) scattered all over the rest of her body. These range in size from a freckle to about five inches in diameter. They all look like moles, including the giant one. Most of them have hair on them, some of which is darker and coarser than normal hair (we shave it).

This is a 1 in 200,000 random thing. It is not genetic or hereditary, nor has it been linked to nay cause. No one really knows why or how this happens, but sometime around the 8th week of pregnancy, these melanocytes (which are the pigment cells in your skin) normally "scatter" throughout your body. They are supposed to deposit evenly throughout your skin and determine how dark you are. In Sophia's case, a whole bunch of these cells just globbed together on her chest to form her birthmark.

The main problem is that, as with all moles, there is the risk that malignant melanoma (the deadliest form of skin cancer) could develop in her nevus. Because the number of mole cells are so much more numerous than most people, she has a much higher chance of getting melanoma. Because her nevus is so large and her grandfather (Davis's father) had melanoma, her dermatologist estimates her chances around 20-25%, but it's really a guess. This condition is too rare and affects kids too differently to get really good statistics. I've read all the studies myself, and there are all over the board.

If caught early, melanoma can be successfully treated (Davis's dad is a survivor!!) The biggest things we can do to prevent it are (1) remove as much of her nevus as possible, (2) sunscreen her like crazy and keep her out of the sun, and (3) watch her closely for signs of change in her skin.

Additionally, because the melanocytes originated in the neural crest (along with brain cells) during development in the womb, there is a chance that some of these extra melanocytes ended up in Sophia's central nervous system. This can lead to a condition called neurocutaneous melanosis, which is basically when the melanocytes start growing in the nervous system (usually brain). This is almost always (95%) fatal. About 1/3 of children with a giant nevus get neurocutaneous melanosis, but again the figures are sketchy. Generally kids with a nevus on the scalp or back are at highest risk, though one study showed that the biggest risk factor was the number of satellites. There is not really anything that can be done to test for, prevent, or treat this condition. The fact that she's made it past the three year point is good though. As she gets older, the chances of her developing this get lower.

Because Sophia's chest nevus is so huge, the best way to remove it is with tissue expansion. Plastic balloons are placed under the healthy skin surrounding her birthmark. Slowly over a few months, we inject saline into the expanders so that they grow like balloons being blown up. This stretches (and actually makes new skin) the healthy skin. Her plastic surgeon then removes the birthmark and uses the stretched skin to cover the area. Other than the surgeries and recovery time, this is not a painful process. We numb her skin prior to the injections. The stretched skin feels like pregnant belly skin - a little tight and itchy and sensitive, but not painful. The cosmetic result of this procedure are amazing. Because you are replacing belly skin with belly skin and it is the adjacent skin (so it is never actually cut off) it heals perfectly and all that is left are the seams (which are beautiful - we are so lucky to have such a talented surgeon!)

When Sophia was fifteen months old, we had her first set of expanders placed. We had to travel out of state to find a plastic surgeon to do it, and we are blessed to have found him. Because we live far away, we did the expansions ourselves at home, instead of having the doctor's office do them every week. We expanded her for four months last time and had them removed when she was 19 months old. Her surgeon was able to remove about 70% of her birthmark. Sophia had a lot of complications from her initial surgery, but after that, she did great. She is such a trooper, and was really the biggest source of strength for us going through all of this.

Because her skin needed a year to recover, we placed her second set of expanders this April, and we've been expanding ever since. Medically, things have been going excellent this time. She had no complications from the surgery and was only in the hospital for three days. Unfortunately, the expansions have been really hard on her emotionally this time. She just dreads her "shots" and we can tell that it is causing her a tremendous amount of stress. She wakes up every morning and asks "we're not doing my shots tonight?" She bursts into tears several times a week, saying "I don't want any more shots." She has nightmares every night. It's just been a lot harder on her this time around.

We had two surgery dates set to remove the expanders this time - July 2nd and July 30th. I took the girls to Texas yesterday so that Sophia's plastic surgeon could tell us whether we had enough skin to remove them on the 2nd. Based on how her skin looked compared to her last expansion, I was sure that he would remove them on the earlier date. Even the resident who came into the room before her surgeon said he felt sure that they would need to be removed soon. Well, I was shocked to find out that not only did her doctor want to keep going, he wanted to continue on indefinitely until one of the expanders burst. This was not a possibility we had ever discussed.

A tissue expander "bursting" is not nearly as scary as it sounds - it doesn't explode or anything, it just tears and the saline leaks out of it. This isn't immediately dangerous, but it would require immediate removal (as her surgeon said "maybe in the middle of the night"). We always knew this was a complication that could arise at any time. We were not prepared to "plan" for this to happen. We are not comfortable with that option at this point, mostly because (1) her plastic surgeon is out of town all the time and (2) we live 6 hours away, and it would be really difficult to just pack up and drive (or fly) down there with no warning. For now, we are planning on sticking with the July 30th surgery date, but we're doing some thinking, praying, and consulting to make up our minds for sure. The goal of course is to get as much skin as possible, so that hopefully we will not have to repeat this next year. But I wonder if physically and emotionally we should give Sophia a break. Her surgeon suggested we might continue until October. Well seven months is a LONG time in a three year old's life, and every week gets more traumatic for her.

Well, this is where we are today... I returned home with the girls today (I took both of them so Davis could work) weary, but certain that we will figure it out and get through this.

God is my strength and power: and he maketh my way perfect.
2 Samuel 22:33

Maybe Useful

I don't have a lot of useful things to share, but there are some things I've learned about having a baby in the hospital... so I thought I would share, hoping that no one who reads this will ever need these tips.

(these are in no particular order, just as I remember them)

-Hospitals, even Children's hospitals, have horrible washcloths. They are rough and big and totally useless for sponge baths, so bring your own (the small, thin Gerber ones are the best IMO).

-This is an awesome product for in between sponge baths: http://www.mustelausa.com/phisiobebe.html

-Bring a notebook and a pen... this is useful for writing down random things. Specifically, I recommend writing down questions for the doctors, because you will think of questions all day and night long, until the doctor walks in the door and you can't think of a single one. Also, I would recommend writing down which medications your child is scheduled for and when she actually gets them; especially around shift change, or when you get a bad nurse, you may need this information (to remind them that it's time for a dose, or inform them that your child already got the medicine). It's also good to take notes about things, like drugs your child has a bad reaction to, or other things you may want to know in the future (this whole experience will be much fuzzier in your memory than you would think).



-Make the hospital room your own. We women are nesters. I brought blankets and stuffed animals and a little cross sign for Sophia's crib. I spent hours rearranging the flowers and things in the room, and cleaning and organizing (when Amelia was in the hospital and I was pumping, I became completely neurotic about lining up her bottles). One night I mopped the entire floor in Sophia's (large) room on my hands and knees with hand sanitizer, because I noticed that the floor was kinda dirty. It's crazy, but make yourself at home and allow yourself to "nest" in your own way.

-Anytime you go to the hospital with your child, bring some overnight things for yourself... with Sophia's first hospitalization we thought we'd only stay for one night and ended up there for two weeks, and we were in a different state from our home. I refused to leave the hospital, so I ended up showering in her room and wishing I had brought my own shampoo and conditioner and more clothes. When I took Amelia to the ER, it never occurred to me that we would stay or that I should bring anything for myself, I just grabbed the diaper bag. I ended up using newborn diapers as maxi pads to hold all my four day postpartum blood, until the morning when Davis brought me supplies. A toothbrush would have made me feel a hundred times more human too. So assume you'll be staying longer, and bring things for yourself.

-Sleep when you can, try to catch naps during the day. You never know when you'll be up all night - because you just can't sleep, or because people keep coming in the room, or because something goes wrong with your child and you need to be there for her. Your ability to cope will be directly linked to how much sleep you've gotten.

-Speaking of sleep, make a sign that says "Baby/Child Sleeping, please do not disturb unless necessary" and tape it on the outside of the hospital room door when your child (and you!) is napping and at night. This keeps people from randomly coming in to change a light bulb or empty trash, and makes nurses and techs a little more aware of how often they are coming in.

-Be nice to everyone as much as possible. But remember you are your child's advocate, speak up when you need to. Ask questions and make sure you really understand the answer, ask again if you don't.

-If you have a sippy-cup aged child, bring your own sippy cups.

-If your child is scheduled for surgery, bring tabloid magazines...the reading material in the waiting rooms usually isn't that good, and you need something to look at that requires zero concentration and is moderately entertaining without making you think. I brought a bag with US, Star, etc. along with a bible ha! No, I don't usually read those magazines, but they were perfect for flipping through in the waiting room.

-Bring your child's favorite toys and books and music and movies. Bring a toy doctor's bag with stethoscope, etc.



-If possible don't let people do painful things to your child in bed. We ended up with a lot of sleep problems after Sophia's first hospitalization, because of the trauma of being woken up in bed by needles and other scary things. If possible, move your child to a chair or couch before hurting them.

-Don't ever lie to your child about what is going to happen. If it's going to hurt tell them "it's going to hurt, but only for a moment and I will be right here with you" or whatever. That way your child will trust you, and will believe you when you tell them something really isn't going to hurt. Explain what is going on, even to a very young child or baby. Before Sophia's first surgery, she was only 15 months old, but pretty verbal. I got photographs of the rooms from the children's hospital, as well as pictures of some equipment like masks on a child's face and IV poles, etc. I laminated them and for a couple of weeks before surgery just showed them to her and told her what the words for things were. At least things weren't completely foreign when she went into the hospital.

-Take pictures. It may be the furthest thing from your mind, but you'll be happy that you recorded the fact that your baby looked incredibly cute even under bili lights



-This probably is too random to be useful for most people, but if you child is going to have drainage tubes from surgery, use a fanny pack to hold the bulbs.

-These little ice packs, available in the first aid aisle of your grocery store, are way better than anything the hospital has http://www.schoolkidshealthcare.com/product/270.html In fact, a friend of mine just had a lump removed from her breast (thank God it was benign) and I gave her one to put in her bra, and she said it was perfect. Way better than the huge hard thing they gave her.

I think this is getting too long... maybe I will continue with a Part II another day. It's time for bed here!