In a Year's Time

As I sit here just seven weeks away from giving birth to our second son, I can’t help but reflect on the fact that I’ve been pregnant for over a year. Your eyes do not deceive you, I said I’ve been pregnant for over a year. I know it seems unthinkable, but it’s true. Let me explain…

It had been a month since we celebrated Cannon’s (our first born) first birthday when I found out I was pregnant again. While we were excited, we were also shocked because it had been six years between our first [ectopic] pregnancy and Cannon. We had been preparing to start trying again once Cannon turned 18mos old. Well needless to say, God had other plans for our family. He obviously wanted to let us know that there was no need to worry ourselves over needing anything except his Grace and Mercy to get pregnant again.

I’ll admit, I was petrified to have two kids under the age of two! This baby was due less than a month before Cannon’s second birthday. The thought of it gave me such anxiety that I was losing sleep at night! While overwhelming, the thought of being a badass tandem-nursing Mama did excite me. I worried so much about being prepared for another baby; about Cannon being ready to be a sibling. I don’t think I’d ever been so confused with my emotions. I wanted and prayed for this baby, but I was SO  afraid of everything that came along with being a Mom of two under two. Nonetheless, we pressed forward and set an appointment with our midwives to confirm the pregnancy.

At about 6wks we went in to have an ultrasound to be sure that this embryo had implanted properly. At that ultrasound, there was evidence of a fetal pole, but no heartbeat yet. We were advised that it may be too early for a heartbeat or we may be dealing with a blighted ovum and asked to return in two weeks. We proceeded with our lives as if we were having another baby in a few months (read: we still had no wine in the house), but were emotionally preparing ourselves for the possibility that this pregnancy would not yield a baby.

During that two-week wait, we lived our lives in prayer. We prayed that we were able to accept God’s decision for our family and that we allowed Him to use us as He saw fit. We’d told our families and close friends that we were pregnant and what was happening with us. They offered their prayers and we accepted. I read countless stories of this happening to women and they go back at 8wks for another ultrasound and there was a healthy embryo with a beating heart. We were optimistic.

A day or so before our second ultrasound, I spoke with my dad. I explained to him how I was feeling and how optimistic I was because I trust God. His words to me were the most empowering I’d heard in this trying time. He said “Well Babygirl, God can and will turn anything around.” That let me know that as unemotional as my dad is, the last thing he wants for his girls (I have three sisters) is to hurt. I keep those words close to me as we approached our second appointment.

At the appointment, we saw more of a developed embryo, but still no heart beat. We were crushed, but knew that God had a plan for us. Once we were done with the ultrasound, the doctor spoke with us and told us that there was no cardiac activity and that more than likely this pregnancy would end shortly. He gave us the option to spontaneously abort (wait it out to miscarry), have a D&C, or to take a prescription drug that would encourage a miscarriage in a few days. We told him we wanted some time to think it over, so he led us into the lobby while he wrote the prescription in the event we wanted to “get it over with.”

While we waited, I turned to Keenan and said to him with tear filled eyes, “I want to birth my baby no matter what. This is our baby and I want to give him or her a birth. Who are we to make this decision for our baby when God has a plan for us and them.” He accepted my words and my choice and we left the office with the prescription in hand (just in case we changed our minds).

A month or so later, Keenan had a work trip planned in Las Vegas, so I took that as an opportunity to get away and relax for a few days (this was my first time leaving Cannon overnight). I drank a little wine at that point because I knew that this pregnancy was no longer progressing (although my uterus was still growing) and I needed to really relax. I had been bleeding off and on for over a month and was exhausted. Still, I wanted to give my body a chance to do what it was designed to do.

Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years had come and gone and I started thinking that I was crazy for waiting out this miscarriage for so long (at this point, I would have been in my second trimester).  I was tired of wondering when my body would expel the pregnancy, so I decided I would make one last appointment with my doctor to discuss my options again. I called on a Monday and they had an opening for me Wednesday of that same week.

That Tuesday, my mom and I were out shopping and I started cramping like crazy. I was passing blood clots every time I used the bathroom. I was pretty sure this was it. This was the birth of my baby. We decided to go home, so I could lie down and relax some. The entire ride home was gruesome. I used the Hypnobabies techniques to get through the pain as much as possible, but I couldn’t wait to get home, so I could stretch out and do what my body was telling me to do. (I texted Keenan to let him know what was going on, but told him I thought I was ok and to stay at work. He left about 2hrs early anyway.)

Once we made it back to my house, I ate something and took some Advil to help with the pain. I was in a daze. I was happy to be alone (my mom was tending to Cannon). I was happy to be birthing our baby. I was in agony (nothing like giving birth to Cannon), but I was elated at the same time. As with birthing Cannon, movement was the best thing I could do for myself. I swayed and squatted for an hour or so and spent most of the time in the bathroom. Once my body gave me the go ahead, I was able to lie down and rest with very little cramping and slept for a while.

By the time Keenan was home, I was still sore, but I felt a sense of invigoration that I made it through. I was able to take it easy and rest up for our appointment the next day.

At our appointment, we decided to go ahead and schedule a D&C to be sure everything had been eliminated. We were on schedule for the procedure a few days later and I can honestly say that I was ready. I had given myself the time I needed to accept and grieve. I gave my body a chance to work based on Gods design. I had given myself the freedom to follow my heart. With that, I didn’t even think of the D&C as anything more than an outpatient procedure as opposed to the first time we lost a baby in the hospital. The first time I felt robbed. Robbed of my choices. Robbed of my rights. Robbed of my time.

Needless to say, I had one menstrual cycle before we were pregnant again. Ironically, Cannon was about 19mos old when we found out this pregnancy. I felt ready this time. Ready to have two children (still scared as hell even now, but ready). Ready for what God has asked me to do. Ready to celebrate all of our children. I am ready.

So that is how I’ve been pregnant for over a year.  

The little guy and the breastfeeder

 I used a midwife practice that had a maternal fetal medicine specialist and an OBGY in their office (they were mandated to do so by the state). Because I had some procedures done on my cervix well over ten years ago, I had to see the MFM who was concerned about my lo's measurements and size. As my pregnancy progressed my appointments with her increased (I still saw the midwives as well) because my son was at risk to have interuterine growth restriction or IUGR, (my placenta wasn't "nourishing" him properly). At 34ish weeks she threatened that we would need to induce at 37 weeks because he was below average in weight. All the while, none of my midwives or ultrasound techs were concerned. I cried and cried at one of the visits because I felt like I was faced with deciding whether or not to let him be or deliver him. I was scared out of my mind for that moment because I had done so well my entire pregnancy. I hadn't allowed ANY negativity to enter my mind, but THIS? This had me shook. 

One day it dawned on me, I'm 4ft 11in ,140lbs at 9 mos pregnant, my mom is 4ft 9in, my dad is 5ft 6in. My in laws are about the same and my husband is a whopping 5ft8in!!!! I decided that I wasn't going to let this woman get the best of my positivity. I went and got a second opinion and that doctor said "You have to pay attention to who you are being measured against. These 'percentiles' are based on babies born to parents of Anglo Saxon decent in the Midwestern portion of America. Babies born to parents of African and Asian decent are often misdiagnosed with this because they are not accounted for in the 'population' of babies studied. Your baby is fine, you are small and so is your husband. If you still are concerned, you should have the option to induce, but it should be your option, not forced upon you." 

My husband and I thanked him and considered changing practices, but I was about 37 weeks at the time. and didn't have the energy to do the footwork and get to know any new midwives.  Once the mfm caught wind that I had a second opinion, she changed her tune and "cleared" me to wait until my son was ready to be born "because my husband and I aren't large people". He was born naturally at 39w4d weighing 6lbs 2.5 oz. 20inches long. There was even concern after he was born about his weight gain. I was encouraged then to supplement with formula, but I  refused and kept at breastfeeding or two weeks. He ended up gaining and was perfect and has been since then. 

My point is trust yourself and trust your higher power (for me that's God). You are equipped to do what it is your body is supposed to do. Sometimes it just takes patients and a little self evaluation to realize you are just fine and it really is mind over matter. BFing is not for everyone just as natural birthing isn't, but if it's your hearts desire you should have it. I pray that this  is nothing but encouraging to the preggo mamas that are nervous about BFing and the mamas discouraged at this point. Don't give up, keep searching for someone that can help you.

The Mothers We Are

So its Mother’s Day and most mothers are getting flowers, a spa day, and breakfast in bed. Usually when we are mothers ourselves, we get a dose of reality on this day and an even larger dose when our mothers have been called to glory.

There are so many types of mothers to be honored on a day like today. There are the birth mothers, adoptive mothers, aunts, grandmothers, Godmothers, and the list goes on. I’d like to recognize mothers like me. I am the mother that has longed for a child for quite a while. God blessed me once with the miracle of life and shortly there after, He had different plans for my husband and me. I won’t get into the story, but you can read it here.

This experience made me realize a lot of things about Mother’s Day as a holiday. I’d always had heartfelt feelings for those who’s mom had been called to glory, because they would be surrounded by everyone else celebrating their mom and I’d imagine that had to be quite the task to deal with.  What I didn’t realize is that Mother’s Day would also be a task for me. Year after year I would be reminded that I’d lost a baby and was not pregnant again. I hid behind being grateful for my mom and mourning my bestfriends mom. Not that these feelings for our moms wasn’t real, but it erased my feelings of failure, emptiness and expectation for a few moments.

For a few years, waking up on Mother’s Day was dreadful. I felt that I deserved to be called mom. After all, I had been pregnant. I also knew there was something not quite right with my pregnancy, and I loved for my child with out limit. That’s what mother’s do, right? In general, they have these experiences and feelings about their children. My mother has always known when there was something not quite right with me, she gave birth to me, and she truly loves me without a limit. I see other mother’s follow this same model, but somehow I was left out of the equation because my child was not physically present to anyone except for me.

Last year I decided to acknowledge that I was a mom. I realized that hiding my pain was no longer an option for me. I’d suppressed my feelings for far too long and I no longer desired the discomfort that I had on Mother’s Days following my loss. Despite the fear of judgment, I acknowledged that God had made me a mother and there are others like myself. We were mothers and no one knew it. Or counted us. We deserved to be counted.

I told my husband “I am a mother!” I saluted others and myself like me because we deserved it just as much as the mothers with physically present children. Our love is not any less deep than those mothers. We felt the same guilt that other mothers feel when things didn’t go as planned for our children. We still lost sleep at night concerning ourselves with our children. We missed our children when they’d left the nest. Yes. We are mothers.

Since then, God has blessed with and many others with children after a tragic loss. We still love our angel babies and will never forget the experience of loving and losing in this way.

If you know someone that has lost a baby at any point during gestation or after, please let her know she’s not invisible, that you see her and love her. Give her the Mother’s Day she’s dreamed of. After all, all she wants is to hear the words Happy Mother’s Day.

The Ultimate Betrayal

A little over a year ago, I joined an online community of women that share similar experiences to mine with regard to fertility.  While under the care of a fertility specialist last year, I wrote this letter to my body. It was meant to be jovial, but meaningful to the other women within the community. They got it, and I hope you will too.
-Love and blessings to all in the "struggle".
Gen 30:22

Abbreviation Key: 

AF- Aunt Flo aka Period 

CM- Cervical Mucous

CP- Cervical Position

TPW- The Pregnant Wannabe

Gen 30:22

5

I've been sitting with my laptop for a few hours now and still cannot decide how to start this. I guess I'll start with stating my purpose: As you read this, I want it to be known that what you read isn't just about me. In fact, I don't believe any of it is about me. I believe that God is using me to help others the way I've asked Him to for the better part of five years. In a short time, I've learned what its like to gain and loose only to gain from loss. Its the most powerful feeling I've ever had. I mean, how on earth can I loose the one thing I've ever wanted and still feel I've gained the world at the same time. I guess that's what motherhood does to you.

Yep, I said motherhood. What many people don't know is, I've been pregnant once and it was the best three weeks of my life. I can recall the day I found out as if it happened this morning.

That morning, on the ride to the train station, my husband was driving my crazy just because we were in the car together. LOL! I couldn't stand him and couldn't figure out why. It was 5:30 in the morning and I had a major attitude with him. Once I dropped him off, I missed him as if he'd been gone for three months. I went on to work and on my way home from lunch, I called my husband and without giving it much thought, I told him I was going to take a pregnancy test because "what God had for us is for us"; he agreed and we hung up. When I got home (I lived 10 mins from my job and had a 2 hr lunch), I decided to use one of the Dollar Tree test I had tucked away and left it on the counter to fix myself some lunch.

As I stood in front of the fridge I began to feel disgusted at the thought of having a sandwich because that meant I would have to eat bread so I opted for a salad. After I ate, I went back to the bathroom nearly forgetting about the test. When I glanced at it, there were two pink lines! I hyperventilated for what seemed like an hour...I called one of my best friends to ask her what she'd told me about dollar store tests; she'd told me that they can give false negatives but are always right when they're positive. I couldn't believe my eyes or my ears! She was the first person I'd said the words "I'm pregnant" to. Pacing around my bedroom, and asking her 100 more questions, I finally realized I needed to call my husband.

I'll never forget the feeling of telling him he was going to be a papa. The love in his voice will stay with me forever...Since my lunch break was so long, I opted to run a get a few more tests. They all read the same thing "pregnant". I'd told my sister the weekend before that I thought I was pregnant, so it came as little surprise to her when I called to confirm. My mom was over the moon and I hadn't told my dad yet. The next day, my mom and sister went to the doctor with me for a confirmation appointment. I was only about three weeks along and was set to go back at six weeks to hear a heart beat.

For the next two weeks, throwing up was a pleasure and I was happy to have crackers at my bedside for when I woke up in the wee hours of the night hungry. It didn't take me long to discover that if I didn't eat in a timely fashion, I would get sick. I remember one Sunday morning calling my mom just to say "I threw up! This baby is already running my life!" She was elated and so was I. Hunger was just as constant as fatigue and it boy was it ferocious, but I loved it. I'm pretty sure I drove my husband crazy with my demands in that short time, but he was beyond happy to meet all of them.

One afternoon during lunch I noticed some light spotting. I called my doctor's office and was assured by someone that the spotting was normal, but if it intensified or was coupled with cramps, to call back. The next day, it intensified, I called back and was told if it turned bright red to call back. I called my best friend who had a 5 month old and told her I didn't feel pregnant anymore and that I was bleeding. She told me that I will not always feel anything and reminded me she bleed during her first trimester. That conversation gave me some reassurance, although I was still quite sure things weren't going to end well.  By the next morning the spotting was bright red and when I called the doctors office, I was told to head to the ER if it turned more into a period flow. That night after work, my husband and I headed to the ER because I was not comfortable with what I'd been told especially since I hadn't spoken directly with my doctor. We left before I was seen because I was horrified with the smell and appearance of the waiting room. The next morning, when I got up to vomit, things were different and I knew it. The bleeding was much worse and I called my boss and told her I was headed to the ER again.

It was an early Friday morning around 5 or 6 am when my husband and I got into the car and headed to the ER (we decided on a different hospital). On the way there, I remember praying to God that His will be done and that I survive the outcome no matter what. I told Him that I trust Him to do what is best for me and my family. When we arrived, I was seen almost immediately. After my vitals were taken I was wheeled into a dark room for an internal ultrasound. I asked the technician if she could see anything, and she simply said "the doctor will go over my findings with you". I looked at the screen to see if I could determine where my baby was, but I didn't know what to look for. I lay there praying with all my might that my baby was ok and that Gods will be done.

Once I was wheeled back into my room, my husband asked if everything was ok, and I simply said "I hope so". It seemed like a good while before the ER doctor came to speak to us about the baby. He explained to us that my pregnancy was ectopic and that I would need to be administered a shot that would dissolve the cells of my baby. He would call my doctor and go over his findings, but was sure that she would agree. Not long after, my doctor arrived to confirm what the ER doctor said to be true and to have me roll over so that she could shoot me in the hip. Just like that, I was stripped of motherhood.

I've only wailed like that one other time in my life, the day my granny died. Only this was worse, because I knew one day she would be gone. I was certain of it, I just wasn't prepared when she did. I never in a million years expected to be pregnant for two weeks and five days before I would ultimately have to say goodbye to my baby. I was supposed to hear a heart beat that following Monday. I've never felt so robbed in my life! I felt robbed of my choice. It all happened so quickly and I grew to resent that doctor and hospital for a long time.

Over the course of the weekend, I got various calls and someone came by to take me to the mall. I truly felt that I would be ok; in fact, I knew I would because I'd prayed for it. The following week, I was advised to stay home from work and rest. During that time, I don't recall getting off my couch very much. I do remember telling my husband that I felt blessed that I was able to keep my fallopian tube and that I was happy that I listened to my body. I remember praying most of my days and asking God to help me move forward, telling Him that I know the He was my only way out of the abyss of hurt I was feeling.

After a while, I began to start my morning with some stretching, deep breaths and prayer. I would ask God to use me in a way that people would know Him through me. I believe he did and still is in many ways. I'm just a few weeks short of 5 years since I had to say goodbye, but I still love our baby. I suppose that feeling will never go away, unless I allow it to and right now, I don't want to. I'm not holding on to the past, I'm holding on to my present. My gift.

I was diagnosed with PCOS as a teenager and told I would need help getting pregnant. I wasn't concerned then, but as time moved on and I got married. When my husband and I decided we were ready to be parents I went to a holistic doctor and she gave me some dietary instructions and an over the counter product to use to regulate my cycles and within three months we were expecting a baby. That was nearly five years ago. I've seen numerous doctors since and have researched PCOS backwards and forwards to no avail. All the while, crying and praying almost daily for peace.

I've found some peace as I had a revelation not long ago that all this time I've asked God to use me and He is. For me, it is heart warming to actually see God using you. At times its painful, but who am I to deny God's gift that I asked for? I know how He's made me. He didn't make me to be full of shame and doubt. He didn't make me strong either. He made me to be His. He's given me a task, and I'm up for it. I've always wanted to be helpful to people and in many ways, I feel trampled on trying to quench that desire. I know now that being helpful does not always mean I will see the results nor does it mean I will always be appreciated. I've become increasingly ok with that because I know what I am made of and with each day, I am becoming less and less concerned with being appreciated.  I KNOW in my heart He has chosen me to spread His word in this way.

With all of that said, I've decided to share the last five years of my life. I'm giving Him glory with my story!