It Takes a Village...

On the second day after surgery I was discharged from the hospital.

The car ride home was a special kind of hell. The 605 is a very bumpy freeway in certain areas, and even though my husband tried to avoid them or take them as slowly as possible, each one hurt like blue blazes. Also, the nausea that every nurse had asked me about while I was in the hospital kicked in the moment we exited the freeway.

Instead of choking down on normal food like I had planned (Orange Coast Memorial doesn't have the menu that Long Beach Memorial does) I spent the first day home praying I wouldn't be sick. Thankfully I wasn't.

Since I couldn't lift my son, my husband took the week of my surgery off. Having him at home to help out was a God send. He washed the bottles, made the formula, and fed Bug during those late night feelings when I couldn't keep my eyes open because of the Percocet. He took him to the doctors for his check ups, and he finally got to sit in on one of our son's occupational therapy appointments and meet his wonderful therapist.

Unfortunately, since my husband works for the city, he doesn't qualify for paid family leave, so he had to go back to work the following week.

Originally the plan had been that my mother in law would watch over me while my husband went to work - but that plan fell through before I even went under the knife. My mother in law had had a lumpectomy in mid September, but around the beginning of October the incision had become infected. She had to go through a second surgery to clean the wound, and was going to see a specialist every other day to have the wound treated. She's shown me it a couple of times and swears it doesn't hurt. I think she's lying.

My father in law usually went with her to her appointments, so relying on him was out of the question.

Thankfully my family only lives about 20 minutes away and they were more then willing to help. 

The first day my mom came over and fed the baby and changes his diapers while I sat in my recliner and dozed the morning and afternoon away on Percocet. Then the next day my aunt came over. Another day my oldest cousin stopped by.

When I wasn't sleeping off the pain killers, we chatted about stuff. My mom gave birth to me via c-section, and my aunt had three OBGYN surgeries within the space of a year, so they knew the pain I was going through. In addition to that my other aunt and my grandmother had had fibroids when I was young, and had surgeries to remove them.

Plus, it turned out that when I was a baby I suffered from severe constipation issues like what my baby boy is dealing with right now. So my mom and aunt were full of tips on how to handle that.

When the baby was sleeping, and we weren't chatting about stuff, I crocheted a lot. In quick succession I finished Bug's baby blanket (which is long enough to last him till he's six or seven), then I started and finished an owl hat, and, because Halloween was so close, I also made him a pumpkin hat.

Baby boy was less than impressed...

Eventually the pain from the surgery faded enough that I was able to stop taking Percocet, and I didn't even need to take prescription ibuprofen. However, I was still easily tired: I went out for lunch with friends the Sunday before Halloween, and I managed to make it through lunch, but I had to sit out on the wine tasting they went to afterwards (though, honestly, I am not a big fan of wine so I probably would've sat that out anyways). Then the following day I pushed myself way too much by walking down Seal Beach pier and around downtown. 

I was scolded by my doctor for that and since then I've been a lot more careful.

Two weeks after the surgery I was cleared to pick up my son again. As much as I enjoyed having my family come over to visit and help out, it was nice to be able to take care of my baby boy on my own once more.

The Preggo Diaries #3

Around 13 weeks I felt the baby kick for the first time. I know it's not normal to feel a baby kick that early - most don't feel them till around 16 weeks, and some don't feel them until even later - but I swear it was the baby. I was sitting at work, plugging away at a project a boss had assigned me, when all of a sudden I felt this weird spasm in my uterus. Except it was only local to one spot, and it was kinda faint. Over the next few weeks, as the baby continued to grow and get strong, I would feel that same spasm more and more often.

My progesterone levels rose and I was taken off of the suppositories. I was also taken off of the pelvic rest, which was awesome, but I was told that I still could not exercise. Walking was fine, but anything that might get my heart rate going was out of the question.

Still my husband and I took advantage of our new found freedom to start going places again. We went to the local malls and walked around. We went to look at model homes even though we could never afford to buy one. We went to visit the local Ren Faire and see our friends who worked there (though we made sure to take plenty of breaks and keep me hydrated).

The morning sickness and exhaustion began to fade. There was still the occasional gagging and vomiting here and there, and I couldn't eat much at meals due to the fibroid that was now pressing on my stomach, but it was so nice to not be nauseous all the time and to be able to enjoy food again. And while I could still sleep for 10 or 12 hours a day, at least I was able to stay up past 10pm without turning into a pumpkin anymore.

The second trimester screening went well. We learned that we were finally having a boy. The ultrasound tech assured us that our baby was growing fine and all his vital organs were doing well. Unfortunately the fibroid had grown, but that was to be expected - pregnancy hormones are like miracle grow to fibroids. Other than that little problem, the pregnancy was going smoothly - which was great, because things were about to get interesting...

The Preggo Diaries #1

After seeing the 'Pregnant' symbol pop up on the pregnancy test, I immediately called my husband upstairs and showed him the test.

His face was pretty priceless.

We hugged and cried and laughed - and immediately called our respective parents to tell them the news. Even though so much can go wrong in the first trimester, we didn't want to wait. My in-laws were ecstatic. So was my father.

My mom, however, was a little more reserved.

She knew that since I was overweight and had fibroids, my chances of complications were much much higher than the average pregnancy. We had a long discussion about how I would need to eat better now, and exercise more, so both I and the baby could be healthy.

Then she told me that regardless of if the baby was a boy or a girl she would be buying it nothing but Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles stuff, because I had been so crazy about them as a kid, and driven her nuts with them, so it was only fair she pass that obsession on to my child for me to enjoy.

We both laughed at that.

The next day I called my doctors office and made my first prenatal appointment. The earliest they could get me in was February though. My friend who was currently pregnant, was shocked that it would take that long, but I had read that most doctors won't see a pregnant woman until she's at least two months along. Also, my doctor is pretty popular, so I was really surprised.

Then, I started spotting.

Everything online told me that it was probably nothing, that spotting happens in the first trimester, that it could be late implantation bleeding, and that the only time I should worry was if the blood was dark red and I had period like cramps.

Thankfully what I was seeing was only light pink, and it disappeared quickly. But when it happened again the next day, and the day after that, I began to worry.

I called up the doctors office, and even though they confirmed what I had read online (spotting is normal, etc etc etc), they were able to get me in to see the doctor the next day. She, according to the nurse, wanted to do an ultrasound.

That made me worry even more. If everything was normal, then why was she doing an ultrasound?

Well, it turned out the nurse hadn't told the doctor everything. When we showed up the next day, she thought we were there to do an ultrasound on the fibroids - which she thought was a bit silly since I had just had an MRI done the week before - and to discuss surgery. We promptly explained that, no, we weren't worried about the fibroids at all anymore - we were pregnant.

The doctor laughed, promised to talk to her nurse about being more clear, and congratulated us.

She explained that it turned out that I only had one fibroid, not two, and that it was as big as the first doctor told us. However, it was in the best spot possible - outside of the uterus and attached to it's top - and shouldn't affect the pregnancy in any way.

The doctor did a quick ultrasound and confirmed that yes, I was pregnant. Our baby, which really looked more like a blob that early in the pregnancy, was hanging out in my uterus and bobbing around. Afterwards she did a quick physical and went over what I could and couldn't do and what I could and couldn't eat now that I was pregnant.

Once she was done, the nurse came in and took my blood to check my HCG levels. The nurse explained that in two days I would need to get my blood drawn again, to make sure that they had doubled.

They didn't double.

The doctor called once they got the results back and told me that while they had increased, they had not doubled like they were supposed to. Also, my progesterone levels were obscenely low - a 4.7 when they should have been at least a 15.

She explained that by now the baby should have a heart beat. The fact that we hadn't seen one when we went in was worrisome, but her ultrasound machine wasn't that powerful, so it was quite possible that it missed it. Therefore she was sending us to a local lab to get a second opinion. Their machine would be stronger, and would be able to pick up more.

The earliest the local lab could get us in was two days later though (thanks, in part, to the nurse sending over the wrong paperwork, not once, but twice) so we spent two days in agony, wondering if the baby we were dreaming of was actually a blighted ovum, or if the pregnancy was a molar pregnancy, or if I would miscarry. There was a lot of crying and a lot of praying that went on during that time, and I pray I never have to go through that again.

The day of the big ultrasound dawned, and I downed my 35 ounces of water like a good girl. By the time we made it to the lab though, my bladder was about to burst. Neither sitting nor standing was comfortable, and I slipped off to the bathroom once or twice to relieve just a little bit of the pressure. My husband scolded me each time, but I'd like to see him down that much water and hold it for that long.

The techs finally called us into the ultrasound room, and I tried to make myself comfortable on the bed. The tech went to town with the ultrasound goop and the wand, and we held our breaths, praying she would have good news.

For the longest time she didn't say anything, so I immediately feared the worst - that something was wrong, and we would have to wait to hear the bad news from my doctor.

My husband, who was just as stressed out as I was, broke down first and asked, 'Does it have a heartbeat?'

The tech nodded, and explained that our baby had a heartbeat of 160 beats per minute and was really moving around in there.

I grabbed my husbands hand and started crying. The tech looked at us like we were crazy until we finally explained that the situation. She congratulated us, printed out some pictures (which still didn't look like much but had more detail than the first ultrasound) and sent us home to recover and bask in the good news.

The PCOS Diaries #6

I apologize for not updating this portion of my blog in awhile - a lot of stuff has happened since January, and for several months there I had no energy at all (if you read my WIPpet posts, you know why by now ;) )