Lilypie Angel and Memorial tickers
Lilypie Second Birthday tickers
Monday, September 17, 2012
Hello there!
Whose the mom of a 2 year old??? This girl! Yup my Bean turned 2 in July...were did time go??? Since the last time we talked health wise I've been ok. I got diagnosed with hypothryroidism (which runs in my family) and have experienced more palpitations than I have in the past but my cardiologist assures me that it's because part of my heart is still slightly enlarged (despite it being "normal size") so it's a matter of not over doing physical activity, not stressing too much, etc to avoid those palps. I still deal with the occasional panic attack...like recently I got sick and I couldn't breathe well because I was all congested so that made me freak out a bit, but it's nothing I can't handle. My ptsd doesn't debilitate me like it used to at first.
At the Bean's 18 month appointment we were informed by his pediatrician that she had heard a heart murmur. So we ended up having to go to Albuquerque to see a pediatric cardiologist so she could do an echocardiogram on the little dude. The truth is that was an incredibly emotional experience for me. I have echos all the time, I know they are no big deal but to see my baby scared and having to go thru that was well emotional for lack of a better word! It took all I had not to cry. They had to drug my poor little dude because he doesn't stay still...EVER. But luckily they were able to tell us that day that he has a perfectly normal heart!! Which made for one very happy mommy and daddy! I cried of relief (incidentally I remember getting palps that day because I was so stressed out). The cardiologist did recommend I take him to a cardiologist that specializes in genetic cardiology in 5 years or so to make sure that my heart problems don't necessarily mean he'll have heart problems because as she put it, "knowledge on cardiomyopathy of any kind is ever changing, what we know today might not be necessarily true in 5 years."
The truth is I'm in a really happy place in life right now and I hope it never goes away. I don't take life for granted. I don't take my little miracle baby for granted...even when he's being a little hurricane! Yes I get frustrated with him and sometimes even mad at him but it always comes down to this--he's a happy, HEALTHY, active, too smart for my own good little boy so of course he's going to cause trouble LOL and that thought keeps me from loosing my mind to the terrible twos LOL. Until next time!
-M
Friday, February 11, 2011
So now that you've heard my story...
Here's what to expect...I probably...no I will still update but probably only once every six months or so...I know not much better than now LOL! My hopes is that this blog helps PPCM moms that haven't found A Mother's Heart yet to know that they are not alone and that, with the right treatment and under the right circumstances, more children are possible. So If you're a mom that just had a baby and went into heart failure...YOU PROBABLY HAVE PPCM!!! Email me, Facebook me, or go to A Mother's Heart you're not alone in this fight...and there's no reason you should be!!
Here's to good health and happiness!
M.
Here's to good health and happiness!
M.
Sorry I know it's been forever but here's the conclusion of my birth story!
OK First I want to share a poem that one of my friends shared with me and it's beautiful and it will speak to anyone who's had it rough but especially to mommies of angels like me....
"A Pair of Shoes"
Author Unknown
I am wearing a pair of shoes.
They are ugly shoes.
Uncomfortable shoes.
I hate my shoes.
Each day I wear them, and each day I wish I had another pair.
Some days my shoes hurt so bad that I do not think I can take another step.
Yet, I continue to wear them.
I get funny looks wearing these shoes.
They are looks of sympathy.
I can tell in others eyes that they are glad they are my shoes and not theirs.
They never talk about my shoes.
To learn how awful my shoes are might make them uncomfortable.
To truly understand these shoes you must walk in them.
But, once you put them on, you can never take them off.
I now realize that I am not the only one who wears these shoes.
There are many pairs in this world.
Some woman are like me and ache daily as they try and walk in them.
Some have learned how to walk in them so they don't hurt quite as much.
Some have worn the shoes so long that days will go by before they think about how much they hurt.
No woman deserves to wear these shoes.
Yet, because of these shoes I am a stronger woman.
These shoes have given me the strength to face anything.
They have made me who I am.
I will forever walk in the shoes of a woman who has lost a child.
OK, now that we've all had a good cry on with the rest of the story...
So On the last post I told you that my little man had ended up in the NICU because of a blood sugar spike...well he stayed for the 10 LONGEST DAYS OF MY LIFE!!! The blood sugar thing was taken care of as soon as they realized that he hadn't eaten a proper meal...YAY MODERN MEDICINE! :P But as it's common with many babies born between 34 and 36 weeks he got jaundice the next day...bad! So they put him in the baby tanning booth under bili lights and we fed and fed the little guy. My doctor was kind enough to let me stay a couple of more days in the hospital but I still ended up having to leave the hospital without my baby...again. And the prospect of it was terrifying, I was afraid that I would have a panic attack or some horrifying flashback the minute we left without him. However, I kept telling myself that it wasn't permanent that this time we were going home with a baby...sooner or later.
Now I don't know if you remember, but I delivered an hour and a half away from my house. And I wasn't about to leave the city without my baby, so my hubs and I jumped around from hotel to hotel as our budget allowed it and eventually ended up at a guest house for military families with people in the hospital. It's called The Fisher House and it's an amazing organization and it was a true blessing for us because we knew that there we could wait for our baby to get healthy as long as we needed to without worrying about getting into a tremendous amount of debt. Luckily the day after we got there our baby was released so we took our little miracle home and begun our happily ever after :D.
It's been 6 whole months now! And he is doing GREAT!! Luckily so am I! I've been slowly weaning off the heart meds and will hopefully be drug free next month! There's still a big hole in our family where our angel baby should be, but I guess that's a whole that will always be filled with the spirit of our angel.
So what can I say about my trip down Mommy Lane???
It's been a wild, crazy, scary, tough, thrilling, happy, sad, wonderfully psychotic ride! Would I do it ALL over again? Even with the same outcomes??? ABSOLUTELY!!! My little angel baby gave us so much! It's unexplainable the gratitude I have that God gave me her...even if it was for a little while. And now my son has made us deliriously happy!!!
But what am I talking about!!! My journey is not over because now the tough part begins I have to raise the miracle we've created! And I can tell you know he's going to be a handful!...wait he already IS a handful! LOL But I guess that's just another chapter in my trip down mommy lane...:)
"A Pair of Shoes"
Author Unknown
I am wearing a pair of shoes.
They are ugly shoes.
Uncomfortable shoes.
I hate my shoes.
Each day I wear them, and each day I wish I had another pair.
Some days my shoes hurt so bad that I do not think I can take another step.
Yet, I continue to wear them.
I get funny looks wearing these shoes.
They are looks of sympathy.
I can tell in others eyes that they are glad they are my shoes and not theirs.
They never talk about my shoes.
To learn how awful my shoes are might make them uncomfortable.
To truly understand these shoes you must walk in them.
But, once you put them on, you can never take them off.
I now realize that I am not the only one who wears these shoes.
There are many pairs in this world.
Some woman are like me and ache daily as they try and walk in them.
Some have learned how to walk in them so they don't hurt quite as much.
Some have worn the shoes so long that days will go by before they think about how much they hurt.
No woman deserves to wear these shoes.
Yet, because of these shoes I am a stronger woman.
These shoes have given me the strength to face anything.
They have made me who I am.
I will forever walk in the shoes of a woman who has lost a child.
OK, now that we've all had a good cry on with the rest of the story...
So On the last post I told you that my little man had ended up in the NICU because of a blood sugar spike...well he stayed for the 10 LONGEST DAYS OF MY LIFE!!! The blood sugar thing was taken care of as soon as they realized that he hadn't eaten a proper meal...YAY MODERN MEDICINE! :P But as it's common with many babies born between 34 and 36 weeks he got jaundice the next day...bad! So they put him in the baby tanning booth under bili lights and we fed and fed the little guy. My doctor was kind enough to let me stay a couple of more days in the hospital but I still ended up having to leave the hospital without my baby...again. And the prospect of it was terrifying, I was afraid that I would have a panic attack or some horrifying flashback the minute we left without him. However, I kept telling myself that it wasn't permanent that this time we were going home with a baby...sooner or later.
Now I don't know if you remember, but I delivered an hour and a half away from my house. And I wasn't about to leave the city without my baby, so my hubs and I jumped around from hotel to hotel as our budget allowed it and eventually ended up at a guest house for military families with people in the hospital. It's called The Fisher House and it's an amazing organization and it was a true blessing for us because we knew that there we could wait for our baby to get healthy as long as we needed to without worrying about getting into a tremendous amount of debt. Luckily the day after we got there our baby was released so we took our little miracle home and begun our happily ever after :D.
It's been 6 whole months now! And he is doing GREAT!! Luckily so am I! I've been slowly weaning off the heart meds and will hopefully be drug free next month! There's still a big hole in our family where our angel baby should be, but I guess that's a whole that will always be filled with the spirit of our angel.
So what can I say about my trip down Mommy Lane???
It's been a wild, crazy, scary, tough, thrilling, happy, sad, wonderfully psychotic ride! Would I do it ALL over again? Even with the same outcomes??? ABSOLUTELY!!! My little angel baby gave us so much! It's unexplainable the gratitude I have that God gave me her...even if it was for a little while. And now my son has made us deliriously happy!!!
But what am I talking about!!! My journey is not over because now the tough part begins I have to raise the miracle we've created! And I can tell you know he's going to be a handful!...wait he already IS a handful! LOL But I guess that's just another chapter in my trip down mommy lane...:)
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Long time no see! I know sorry :S
He's here!!! My little man was born!
OK so first things first, the diabetes....I was totally able to control with diet and exercise! It really wasn't hard at all.
I actually managed to exercise up to the week before my delivery! I didn't exercise the week of delivery because I was crazy busy and you'll see why next...
So this is how it went down....
I was supposed to deliver on Thursday of my delivery week but it was moved to Wednesday because I had a whole lot of people required for a safe delivery. As I've told you before my perinatologist is very much the "better safe than sorry" type of doctor, which is alright by me! So she decided that we were going to have her practice partner (another perinatologist) present because he's older and much more experienced so we was the perfect wingman. She also talked to the hospitals anesthesiology team because anesthesia is a very tricky thing for people with heart problems, and they recommended she take 2 of their top people for my surgery, and she also wanted a cardiologist present and the NICU team present just in case things went south. As you might imagine scheduling all these people was a huge undertaking. So I was supposed to go in Tuesday night so that they could do all the labwork and set up my anesthesia with plenty of time for my surgery.
On Monday morning I went in for my last Dr's appointment, I sat down for my NST and as the nurse is strapping me in she says "are you excited???" and I nodded with a goofy grin because of course I was on top of the world! Then she says "so are you all packed and ready to go to the hospital tonight?"...yeah TONIGHT!! I felt my jaw drop and asked her "no, it's tomorrow night, my surgery isn't until Wednesday" her brow furrowed and she looked at my file then she said "no we had to move your surgery one more time because of scheduling, your having your baby tomorrow morning!" My hubby gave me a panicked look. So after a number of phone calls to my hubby's work and family and settle them down because everyone was panicking (of course)we had our last ultrasound (and we hardly saw anything b/c my son was engaged and ready to go so he was too low to see his little face but it didn't bother me because I was so excited that I'd finally get to meet him soon! Then my doctor did a rundown of what would happen, had me sign the paperwork for my tubal (b/c in my particular case another kid wold be too risky) and sent me on my merry way.
We rushed home (an hour and a half trip by the way) my hubby ate and got ready to rush to work and my mom, sis and I did laundry and got me all packed and ready to go to the hospital. My hubby got out of work early so that he could take me and in what felt like a blur of time I was at the hospital!
The nurses showed me to my room and then they took blood for labwork and put in my IVs...yeah I had 2 IVs, why? Well the doctors wanted an IV for fluids (which I was on very minimal fluids because in case you don't know too many fluids and heart failure patients don't mix! And the second IV served as a backup and in case I needed an emergency blood transfusion. As I've said before I have HORRIBLE veins so even tho I had spent all day drinking water, finding good veins was still an undertaking, lucky for me I was only stuck three times, two for each IV and once for the bloodwork. I was also hooked up to the usual monitors and then I was left to rest and wait to talk to the anesthesiologist. My mom and sister left to meet up with my dad, grandma and brother (who started driving to El Paso from San Antonio as soon as they heard and I started Facebooking LOL.
After a little while, the anesthesiologist came in and we had a little chat, she said she had spent all afternoon reading my (giant) file and was incredibly impressed with my last echo, she asked about my activity level and diet then she congratulated me and said "I honestly think you have gotten your heart in better shape than a large portion of 'healthy' people!" which made me feel GREAT because she was validating my years of hard work! She asked what kind of anesthetics my cardiologist recommended, I told her that my doctor (and most research on PPCM) suggested and epidural instead of the traditional spinal because there was a lower risk of complications, she agreed and said that it was what she was going to suggest. Then she said that she would be back at 3:30 am to start the epidural because she wanted to add the medication nice and slow in case of complications especially since I'd never had an epidural before.
So my hubby and I went to sleep and tried to get some rest. Despite the IVs and the excitement I was able to fall asleep rather quickly. In the middle of the night the nurse came in and was looking intently at the monitors, I asked if something was wrong and she informed me that I was having contractions every 3 minutes and asked if I had been feeling them. I told her that I thought they were Braxton Hicks so I hadn't been paying attention to them. She gave me a shot of medication to stop the contractions because for c-sections doctors like contractions to be present. Within the hour they were gone and I went right back to sleep. My poor hubby must have had the worst night's sleep because he would wake up every time I stirred. Nevertheless we survived the night. At 3am my parents showed up bright eyed and bushy tailed. I told them about the meeting with the anesthesiologist. At 3:30 as promised the anesthesiologists showed up to set up my epidural, they were able to quickly set me up and start administering the medicine. I began to shake and the doctors said it was because of the adrenaline interacting with the epidural. As we were waiting for me to numb completely the nurse got my hubby all suited up for the delivery. Once we were all set the anesthesiologist looked at me and with a big smile said "OK, this is it! Are you ready to be a mommy?!?" I couldn't help it, tears began to trickle down my cheeks as I nodded she said to cry if I wanted to and all I could choke out was "I'm so happy, relieved" my mom came and held my hand and gave me a kiss on my forehead and told me I'd done so well and to cry it out. They wheeled me out of my room and into the operating room. I'd never seen an operating room so full! My doctor was there waiting for me and despite the mask, I could tell she was as happy and relieved as me. She asked how I was feeling and if I was ready. I smiled and told her "let's do this!" They very quickly prepped me and she asked a nurse to go get my husband. My hubby came in jittery and misty eyed. He held my hand and said "hi beautiful, you ok?" I nodded and the doctor said "look over here so you can see your little man be born" my hubby stood up and squeezed my hand and I felt a little pressure and then I heard my little guy cry. It was the most wonderful sound in the world (the first time anyways LOL), tears began streaming again and all I could choke out was "WOW!!" I saw a nurse rush over to the crib where the NICU nurses were waiting with a little bundle that I knew was him and my hubby, still holding my hand, was stretching to see, so I squeezed his hand and said "go, go!" he kissed my forehead and hurried over to take pictures of our little guy. A nurse brought my baby over and said "here's your baby! Give him a kiss" so I kissed his forehead and they whisked him away to the nursery for weighting, shots, etc. I started feeling funny and I asked the anesthesiologist why I was feeling so funny and she asked if I was sleepy and I said yes and she told me it was because my heart rate had started to race with all the adrenaline so she gave me something to calm me down, but that I could go to sleep. I vaguely remember seeing my mom in the hallway in route to recovery and her saying "He's SO beautiful!!! He's doing great don't worry sleep" I woke up several times while in recovery, fighting the sleep to ask for my baby. After four hours I was finally able to wake up. I asked the nurse about my baby and she said he was doing great in the nursery and that as soon as I got a room they would bring him to me, so I told her to get me a room or I'd get up and go find him, she told me I couldn't do it with numb legs, so I lifted my legs to show that I was no longer numb. Her eyes widened and said "ok, ok don't do anything crazy, I'll go get you a room" so for the record...threats work ;).
I was soon moved to my room and my whole family was waiting there. After 15 minutes of waiting I told my mom "will you please go demand my baby for me please, tell them that if they don't bring him I'll go myself!" she had just left when my hubby came in with our son. I was SO happy to finally meet my baby and to finally be in the same room as my two men again! The nurse told me he had not eaten so I needed to try and feed him ASAP. He attached easily and began trying to eat as much as possible but my milk hadn't come in so he was getting drops.
We got to hang out with our little guy but as as it happens to anyone that hasn't eaten his blood sugar dropped because no one had told us to supplement so he was taken to the NICU. And that my dear friends was a whole other hurdle on my trip down Mommy Lane...
to be continued...
OK so first things first, the diabetes....I was totally able to control with diet and exercise! It really wasn't hard at all.
I actually managed to exercise up to the week before my delivery! I didn't exercise the week of delivery because I was crazy busy and you'll see why next...
So this is how it went down....
I was supposed to deliver on Thursday of my delivery week but it was moved to Wednesday because I had a whole lot of people required for a safe delivery. As I've told you before my perinatologist is very much the "better safe than sorry" type of doctor, which is alright by me! So she decided that we were going to have her practice partner (another perinatologist) present because he's older and much more experienced so we was the perfect wingman. She also talked to the hospitals anesthesiology team because anesthesia is a very tricky thing for people with heart problems, and they recommended she take 2 of their top people for my surgery, and she also wanted a cardiologist present and the NICU team present just in case things went south. As you might imagine scheduling all these people was a huge undertaking. So I was supposed to go in Tuesday night so that they could do all the labwork and set up my anesthesia with plenty of time for my surgery.
On Monday morning I went in for my last Dr's appointment, I sat down for my NST and as the nurse is strapping me in she says "are you excited???" and I nodded with a goofy grin because of course I was on top of the world! Then she says "so are you all packed and ready to go to the hospital tonight?"...yeah TONIGHT!! I felt my jaw drop and asked her "no, it's tomorrow night, my surgery isn't until Wednesday" her brow furrowed and she looked at my file then she said "no we had to move your surgery one more time because of scheduling, your having your baby tomorrow morning!" My hubby gave me a panicked look. So after a number of phone calls to my hubby's work and family and settle them down because everyone was panicking (of course)we had our last ultrasound (and we hardly saw anything b/c my son was engaged and ready to go so he was too low to see his little face but it didn't bother me because I was so excited that I'd finally get to meet him soon! Then my doctor did a rundown of what would happen, had me sign the paperwork for my tubal (b/c in my particular case another kid wold be too risky) and sent me on my merry way.
We rushed home (an hour and a half trip by the way) my hubby ate and got ready to rush to work and my mom, sis and I did laundry and got me all packed and ready to go to the hospital. My hubby got out of work early so that he could take me and in what felt like a blur of time I was at the hospital!
The nurses showed me to my room and then they took blood for labwork and put in my IVs...yeah I had 2 IVs, why? Well the doctors wanted an IV for fluids (which I was on very minimal fluids because in case you don't know too many fluids and heart failure patients don't mix! And the second IV served as a backup and in case I needed an emergency blood transfusion. As I've said before I have HORRIBLE veins so even tho I had spent all day drinking water, finding good veins was still an undertaking, lucky for me I was only stuck three times, two for each IV and once for the bloodwork. I was also hooked up to the usual monitors and then I was left to rest and wait to talk to the anesthesiologist. My mom and sister left to meet up with my dad, grandma and brother (who started driving to El Paso from San Antonio as soon as they heard and I started Facebooking LOL.
After a little while, the anesthesiologist came in and we had a little chat, she said she had spent all afternoon reading my (giant) file and was incredibly impressed with my last echo, she asked about my activity level and diet then she congratulated me and said "I honestly think you have gotten your heart in better shape than a large portion of 'healthy' people!" which made me feel GREAT because she was validating my years of hard work! She asked what kind of anesthetics my cardiologist recommended, I told her that my doctor (and most research on PPCM) suggested and epidural instead of the traditional spinal because there was a lower risk of complications, she agreed and said that it was what she was going to suggest. Then she said that she would be back at 3:30 am to start the epidural because she wanted to add the medication nice and slow in case of complications especially since I'd never had an epidural before.
So my hubby and I went to sleep and tried to get some rest. Despite the IVs and the excitement I was able to fall asleep rather quickly. In the middle of the night the nurse came in and was looking intently at the monitors, I asked if something was wrong and she informed me that I was having contractions every 3 minutes and asked if I had been feeling them. I told her that I thought they were Braxton Hicks so I hadn't been paying attention to them. She gave me a shot of medication to stop the contractions because for c-sections doctors like contractions to be present. Within the hour they were gone and I went right back to sleep. My poor hubby must have had the worst night's sleep because he would wake up every time I stirred. Nevertheless we survived the night. At 3am my parents showed up bright eyed and bushy tailed. I told them about the meeting with the anesthesiologist. At 3:30 as promised the anesthesiologists showed up to set up my epidural, they were able to quickly set me up and start administering the medicine. I began to shake and the doctors said it was because of the adrenaline interacting with the epidural. As we were waiting for me to numb completely the nurse got my hubby all suited up for the delivery. Once we were all set the anesthesiologist looked at me and with a big smile said "OK, this is it! Are you ready to be a mommy?!?" I couldn't help it, tears began to trickle down my cheeks as I nodded she said to cry if I wanted to and all I could choke out was "I'm so happy, relieved" my mom came and held my hand and gave me a kiss on my forehead and told me I'd done so well and to cry it out. They wheeled me out of my room and into the operating room. I'd never seen an operating room so full! My doctor was there waiting for me and despite the mask, I could tell she was as happy and relieved as me. She asked how I was feeling and if I was ready. I smiled and told her "let's do this!" They very quickly prepped me and she asked a nurse to go get my husband. My hubby came in jittery and misty eyed. He held my hand and said "hi beautiful, you ok?" I nodded and the doctor said "look over here so you can see your little man be born" my hubby stood up and squeezed my hand and I felt a little pressure and then I heard my little guy cry. It was the most wonderful sound in the world (the first time anyways LOL), tears began streaming again and all I could choke out was "WOW!!" I saw a nurse rush over to the crib where the NICU nurses were waiting with a little bundle that I knew was him and my hubby, still holding my hand, was stretching to see, so I squeezed his hand and said "go, go!" he kissed my forehead and hurried over to take pictures of our little guy. A nurse brought my baby over and said "here's your baby! Give him a kiss" so I kissed his forehead and they whisked him away to the nursery for weighting, shots, etc. I started feeling funny and I asked the anesthesiologist why I was feeling so funny and she asked if I was sleepy and I said yes and she told me it was because my heart rate had started to race with all the adrenaline so she gave me something to calm me down, but that I could go to sleep. I vaguely remember seeing my mom in the hallway in route to recovery and her saying "He's SO beautiful!!! He's doing great don't worry sleep" I woke up several times while in recovery, fighting the sleep to ask for my baby. After four hours I was finally able to wake up. I asked the nurse about my baby and she said he was doing great in the nursery and that as soon as I got a room they would bring him to me, so I told her to get me a room or I'd get up and go find him, she told me I couldn't do it with numb legs, so I lifted my legs to show that I was no longer numb. Her eyes widened and said "ok, ok don't do anything crazy, I'll go get you a room" so for the record...threats work ;).
I was soon moved to my room and my whole family was waiting there. After 15 minutes of waiting I told my mom "will you please go demand my baby for me please, tell them that if they don't bring him I'll go myself!" she had just left when my hubby came in with our son. I was SO happy to finally meet my baby and to finally be in the same room as my two men again! The nurse told me he had not eaten so I needed to try and feed him ASAP. He attached easily and began trying to eat as much as possible but my milk hadn't come in so he was getting drops.
We got to hang out with our little guy but as as it happens to anyone that hasn't eaten his blood sugar dropped because no one had told us to supplement so he was taken to the NICU. And that my dear friends was a whole other hurdle on my trip down Mommy Lane...
to be continued...
Friday, May 21, 2010
Pregnancy Update--The Glucose Debacle continued
So as promised here I am updating about the very important diabetes and pregnancy class I had today...yeah now keep in mind that I am the type of person that does extensive research on whatever issue I have before I go meet with a health care professional just so I know what we're talking about and what questions to ask. I always tell people "you know A-type personalities? I'm A++ type so whatever instructions you give me make sure it's really what you want me to do because I WILL go overboard" so having said that...the class didn't really help me much. She basically gave me some handouts of the "diet" they recommend (I'll post a PDF of them a little later on so you can see the incredible detail they go into) and it turns out I eat better than that except for the fact that I did allow myself treats like candy and ice cream on occassion....OK I'll admit it, I was addicted to Bryer's Natural Fruit pops!!! And now I'm having withdrawals...but I'll survive with really cold (I might stick them in the freezer even) strawberries. I did find out that I'm not eating enough and I'm letting too much time pass between meals. So I definitely have to get on that. I'm supposed to eat something (not necessarily a big something an apple, handful of grapes and two little cubes of cheese, etc) every 2.5 hours and eat 3 meals a day she said it was ok to have a small breakfast, and medium sized lunch and dinner so I can live with that. She also told me not to worry if my blood sugar was very high the first few times I took it because it was totally normal, the idea is that as I follow the new restrictions my blood sugar will level out and stay under control. The tought of seeing my blood sugar above normal scared me even if it was normal. It's ridiculous how easily stressed I get over my health...which we all know is NOT good for you! And yet, I can't help it. It's like I'm permanently spooked, I hate it!
When we were done talking our very short talk about diet, she showed me how to use the monitor and I was on my way with handouts and a new blood sugar monitor. Basically the way it works is when you wake up you take your blood sugar--this measurement you want to be <90 mg/dl; then one hour after every big meal (breakfast, lunch, dinner) you do it again--your blood sugar should be <140mg/dl; then at bedtime you do it one more time aiming for a blood sugar of <120 mg/dl. I'm hoping to control my blood sugar with diet and exercise only but if my blood sugars can't stay under control then, the next step is to take some form of oral medicine, and the step after that would be insulin shots and the very last resort would be giving birth. Lucky for me they want 20 mins of walking 3 days a week and I do 30 mins of walking at least 3-5 times a week and I already follow a low sodium, low fat, low cholesterol diet which means all I have to do is keep eating my whole grains whenever applicable and stop eating sweets and because I'm only borderline it should be attainable. The only concern is if I can keep it up b/c as the pregnancy progresses, so does the sugar production and the insulin blocking courtecy of the plasenta so we'll have to see how it goes, if towards the end I have to stop eating bread and pasta all together I can definitely do it...I don't like it but I can do it.
So after my "class" I got to go to the hospital and pre-register! I was glad I had scheduled this for today because it lifted my spirits and distracted me from the whole diabetes thing. For those of you who have never done it, it's just a quick way of telling the hospital "I'm going to deliver here" they ask you if you have a pediatrician of preference or if you want to use the oncall pediatrician and register all your personal and insurance information as well as emergency contact information. It's a quick and painless process but it sure leaves you feeling one step closer to getting to hold your little one :).
I then proceeded to go buy some low carb cookbooks because I can always use new ideas. I ended up buying Healthy Calendar Diabetic Cooking by the American Diabetes Association's Lara Rondinelli, RD, LDN, CDE and Chef Jennifer Bucko and The Balanced Plate by Renee Loux...which the last one isn't for diabetics, it's more of a wholistic living book with really good healthy (and some even exotic) recipes. The book from the ADA is really cool because it gives you 5 night's worth of recipe's per week with seasonal ingredients, the only thing PPCM patients have to think about is sodium and fat content, but to my delight most recipes work as written (which is very rare from my experience!!) and they even include 1 desert option per month for those special occassions! So I definitely can't wait to try out some new recipes!
Afterwards, we went grocery shopping and came home to eat lunch. And my nerves betrayed me yet again, I felt myself tense up as I was preparing my food making sure to measure everything and even felt a little thrill as I got to have a slice of whole wheat bread with my meal (yes I got to keep bread :D in moderation of course). We ate lunch and then it was time to wait the hour to see what my blood sugar would do. Unfortunately my beloved hubs had to leave to work so he didn't wait with me which just added to my stress. After the hour I tested...and got an error message, I hadn't bled enough! So I retested and finally got a number! I kept thinking to myself the entire hour "it's going to be high but it's normal" over and over so I peeked at the number and it was....
....
....
....
a 99!?!? Totally normal, I'm not gonna lie I was a little confused, and strangely somewhat disapointed, why would it give me a number well below the number they had given me? Was this why I had been stressing myself out about for the past 2.5 days for?!?!? GRRRRRRRR!!! I found myself incredibly frustrated. Both my gut and my mom told me that I didn't really need to stress, that my sugar levels would be fine if I just took out some of the starchier foods (like potatos and corn) and get rid of sweets all together and yet I had still stressed myself out (as if I wasn't under enough stress!!). Once again I found myself frustrated and somewhat angry with myself but this time instead of beating myself up about it I've decided to just do what my initial reaction had been. I need to stop questioning myself when it comes to my diet and exercise routine because I am doing what I'm supposed to be doing!!! I just need to believe in myself more.
So lesson to be learned from this leg in the journey?
BELIEVE IN YOURSELF!!!! It will eliminate so much stress in your life! If you are doing what you're supposed to be doing there is not much else you can do, so just chill and let things work themselves out. And don't be afraid of letting emotions show, I've been bottling up so much anger, frustration, fright in the past few weeks that it's finally all started to come out and because I'm crazy hormonal it comes out in one of two ways, I either cry for whatever reason (what we're out of apples? *cry like a baby*) or I lash out at my poor husband for the stupidest things (ME:why did you unplug my phone and started charging yours??? >:( HIM: Because I have to go to work and I don't want it to die??? :S ME: Oh! Of course how dumb of me...sorry! *blush* HIM: *confused and wary look*)and either way you won't be a joy to be around!
Given that we're now officially starting the last trimester *cheers all around!!* I'll be updating more often because I've been horrible about doing it! So until next time!
M
When we were done talking our very short talk about diet, she showed me how to use the monitor and I was on my way with handouts and a new blood sugar monitor. Basically the way it works is when you wake up you take your blood sugar--this measurement you want to be <90 mg/dl; then one hour after every big meal (breakfast, lunch, dinner) you do it again--your blood sugar should be <140mg/dl; then at bedtime you do it one more time aiming for a blood sugar of <120 mg/dl. I'm hoping to control my blood sugar with diet and exercise only but if my blood sugars can't stay under control then, the next step is to take some form of oral medicine, and the step after that would be insulin shots and the very last resort would be giving birth. Lucky for me they want 20 mins of walking 3 days a week and I do 30 mins of walking at least 3-5 times a week and I already follow a low sodium, low fat, low cholesterol diet which means all I have to do is keep eating my whole grains whenever applicable and stop eating sweets and because I'm only borderline it should be attainable. The only concern is if I can keep it up b/c as the pregnancy progresses, so does the sugar production and the insulin blocking courtecy of the plasenta so we'll have to see how it goes, if towards the end I have to stop eating bread and pasta all together I can definitely do it...I don't like it but I can do it.
So after my "class" I got to go to the hospital and pre-register! I was glad I had scheduled this for today because it lifted my spirits and distracted me from the whole diabetes thing. For those of you who have never done it, it's just a quick way of telling the hospital "I'm going to deliver here" they ask you if you have a pediatrician of preference or if you want to use the oncall pediatrician and register all your personal and insurance information as well as emergency contact information. It's a quick and painless process but it sure leaves you feeling one step closer to getting to hold your little one :).
I then proceeded to go buy some low carb cookbooks because I can always use new ideas. I ended up buying Healthy Calendar Diabetic Cooking by the American Diabetes Association's Lara Rondinelli, RD, LDN, CDE and Chef Jennifer Bucko and The Balanced Plate by Renee Loux...which the last one isn't for diabetics, it's more of a wholistic living book with really good healthy (and some even exotic) recipes. The book from the ADA is really cool because it gives you 5 night's worth of recipe's per week with seasonal ingredients, the only thing PPCM patients have to think about is sodium and fat content, but to my delight most recipes work as written (which is very rare from my experience!!) and they even include 1 desert option per month for those special occassions! So I definitely can't wait to try out some new recipes!
Afterwards, we went grocery shopping and came home to eat lunch. And my nerves betrayed me yet again, I felt myself tense up as I was preparing my food making sure to measure everything and even felt a little thrill as I got to have a slice of whole wheat bread with my meal (yes I got to keep bread :D in moderation of course). We ate lunch and then it was time to wait the hour to see what my blood sugar would do. Unfortunately my beloved hubs had to leave to work so he didn't wait with me which just added to my stress. After the hour I tested...and got an error message, I hadn't bled enough! So I retested and finally got a number! I kept thinking to myself the entire hour "it's going to be high but it's normal" over and over so I peeked at the number and it was....
....
....
....
a 99!?!? Totally normal, I'm not gonna lie I was a little confused, and strangely somewhat disapointed, why would it give me a number well below the number they had given me? Was this why I had been stressing myself out about for the past 2.5 days for?!?!? GRRRRRRRR!!! I found myself incredibly frustrated. Both my gut and my mom told me that I didn't really need to stress, that my sugar levels would be fine if I just took out some of the starchier foods (like potatos and corn) and get rid of sweets all together and yet I had still stressed myself out (as if I wasn't under enough stress!!). Once again I found myself frustrated and somewhat angry with myself but this time instead of beating myself up about it I've decided to just do what my initial reaction had been. I need to stop questioning myself when it comes to my diet and exercise routine because I am doing what I'm supposed to be doing!!! I just need to believe in myself more.
So lesson to be learned from this leg in the journey?
BELIEVE IN YOURSELF!!!! It will eliminate so much stress in your life! If you are doing what you're supposed to be doing there is not much else you can do, so just chill and let things work themselves out. And don't be afraid of letting emotions show, I've been bottling up so much anger, frustration, fright in the past few weeks that it's finally all started to come out and because I'm crazy hormonal it comes out in one of two ways, I either cry for whatever reason (what we're out of apples? *cry like a baby*) or I lash out at my poor husband for the stupidest things (ME:why did you unplug my phone and started charging yours??? >:( HIM: Because I have to go to work and I don't want it to die??? :S ME: Oh! Of course how dumb of me...sorry! *blush* HIM: *confused and wary look*)and either way you won't be a joy to be around!
Given that we're now officially starting the last trimester *cheers all around!!* I'll be updating more often because I've been horrible about doing it! So until next time!
M
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Pregnancy Update---The Glucose Debacle
Well folks I'm 27 weeks pregnant now!! That means 9 more weeks and I get my baby!! My little guy is getting big and strong, thank God!! At 25 weeks I was distributed betamethazone shots (a steroid that helps the baby's lungs and vital organs develop faster) in case we have to deliver even earlier than we are aiming for. To be honest, they are not painful a little uncomfortable but certainly not painful and well worth the investment! So far my Bean has been measuring a ways ahead but my OB still felt that it would be a good precautionary measure and so I oblidged.
That same week I was handed lab paperwork to go get a 1hr glucose test (standard testing for most pregnancies) and me being me decided to go do it the day of my second betamethazone shot...word of advice DON'T DO IT!!!! This steroid tends to make your glucose go sky high. So of course, I failed and was subjected to the horror that is the 3 hr glucose test. Now this too wouldn't be a big deal except for the fact that I have horrible veins every time I have to get blood drawn the person doing it has issues and will end up sticking me multiple times or worst...dig around for my vein...eeeek!! So the way the 3hr glucose test works is you fast for at least 10hrs, you go in and they do the baseline blood draw, then you drink that delish (NOT!) little orange drink, then you wait an hour, get your blood drawn again, wait another hour, get your blood drawn again, wait one more hour, get your blood drawn and then you finally get to eat. Needless to say the Bean was going nuts not only because I hadn't eaten but because of the crazy sugar drink they made me take.
So a week later, the day before my OB appointment the Dr's nurse called and told me I had failed *imagine my entire world freezing at that moment and dramatic music playing because that's how it felt* she told me that they'd have to schedule me to talk to me about measuring my blood sugar and about diet restrictions but that the good news was that I had only failed very marginally and that chances were I wouldn't need more drugs.
*imagine me having a complete meltdown*
I felt a giant sense of disapointment. Here I was working my butt off to be healthy, working out regularly, eating impecably well with no salt, little fat, little cholesterol and still I was diabetic! I was going to have to sacrifice more. I was angry because all I wanted was a semi-normal pregnancy I had made peace with the fact that I would have to watch my diet and exercise a long time ago and that I would have to undergo tests thru out my pregnancy to make sure my heart was working right but I never considered that I would have gestational diabetes because I was watching my diet and exercising!!! I MUST have done something wrong was all I could think about.
So the next day we go in to the Dr's office and we get to see our little active guy flipping around everywhere (even tho he's running out of room LOL) I got hooked up to the fetal heart rate/contractions monitor for the first time (it's aparently something my Dr likes to do every once in a while to make sure everything's ok) and the Bean was not cooperating one bit, he kept kicking the monitors out of place causing disturbances in the monitor's print out...we thought it was cute but the lady monitoring me thought it rather frustrating. Then we got to talk to the Dr. I asked her what I had done wrong, by how much I had failed, and told her how disturbed I was by the news. She told me that I did nothing wrong, that it actually meant I had a really healthy placenta. What happens with gestational diabetes is that the placenta creates this hormone that is great for the baby but can sometimes cause moms to not be able to process glucose very well. That it was important to get it under control because if my glucose levels continue to be high, that the baby can suffer a blood glucose drop when he's born because he will no longer have the placenta creating so much sugar but his body would have gotten used to producing a lot of insulin. And that my results were extremely marginal so techinically I'm "pre-diabetic" not diabetic and that I should be able to control it by reducing the carbs in my diet. And when she means marginal she means it!! The first two blood draws came back normal, the third came back 3 points higher than normal, and the fourth came back 2 points higher than normal.
Although I was still upset about the whole situation (because I'd rather be healthy!!) I felt much better knowing what it was and how mild my case was. So tomorrow I have to wake up early and go see her nurse so she can talk to me about specific diet restrictions (which I have been researching because I try to never go to a meeting unprepared) and about measuring my blood sugar levels every day. I have a lot of questions so I hope she has a lot of answers for me. Oh!! We're also going to register at the hospital we've chosen so I'm excited about that :).
I'll update tomorrow!
That same week I was handed lab paperwork to go get a 1hr glucose test (standard testing for most pregnancies) and me being me decided to go do it the day of my second betamethazone shot...word of advice DON'T DO IT!!!! This steroid tends to make your glucose go sky high. So of course, I failed and was subjected to the horror that is the 3 hr glucose test. Now this too wouldn't be a big deal except for the fact that I have horrible veins every time I have to get blood drawn the person doing it has issues and will end up sticking me multiple times or worst...dig around for my vein...eeeek!! So the way the 3hr glucose test works is you fast for at least 10hrs, you go in and they do the baseline blood draw, then you drink that delish (NOT!) little orange drink, then you wait an hour, get your blood drawn again, wait another hour, get your blood drawn again, wait one more hour, get your blood drawn and then you finally get to eat. Needless to say the Bean was going nuts not only because I hadn't eaten but because of the crazy sugar drink they made me take.
So a week later, the day before my OB appointment the Dr's nurse called and told me I had failed *imagine my entire world freezing at that moment and dramatic music playing because that's how it felt* she told me that they'd have to schedule me to talk to me about measuring my blood sugar and about diet restrictions but that the good news was that I had only failed very marginally and that chances were I wouldn't need more drugs.
*imagine me having a complete meltdown*
I felt a giant sense of disapointment. Here I was working my butt off to be healthy, working out regularly, eating impecably well with no salt, little fat, little cholesterol and still I was diabetic! I was going to have to sacrifice more. I was angry because all I wanted was a semi-normal pregnancy I had made peace with the fact that I would have to watch my diet and exercise a long time ago and that I would have to undergo tests thru out my pregnancy to make sure my heart was working right but I never considered that I would have gestational diabetes because I was watching my diet and exercising!!! I MUST have done something wrong was all I could think about.
So the next day we go in to the Dr's office and we get to see our little active guy flipping around everywhere (even tho he's running out of room LOL) I got hooked up to the fetal heart rate/contractions monitor for the first time (it's aparently something my Dr likes to do every once in a while to make sure everything's ok) and the Bean was not cooperating one bit, he kept kicking the monitors out of place causing disturbances in the monitor's print out...we thought it was cute but the lady monitoring me thought it rather frustrating. Then we got to talk to the Dr. I asked her what I had done wrong, by how much I had failed, and told her how disturbed I was by the news. She told me that I did nothing wrong, that it actually meant I had a really healthy placenta. What happens with gestational diabetes is that the placenta creates this hormone that is great for the baby but can sometimes cause moms to not be able to process glucose very well. That it was important to get it under control because if my glucose levels continue to be high, that the baby can suffer a blood glucose drop when he's born because he will no longer have the placenta creating so much sugar but his body would have gotten used to producing a lot of insulin. And that my results were extremely marginal so techinically I'm "pre-diabetic" not diabetic and that I should be able to control it by reducing the carbs in my diet. And when she means marginal she means it!! The first two blood draws came back normal, the third came back 3 points higher than normal, and the fourth came back 2 points higher than normal.
Although I was still upset about the whole situation (because I'd rather be healthy!!) I felt much better knowing what it was and how mild my case was. So tomorrow I have to wake up early and go see her nurse so she can talk to me about specific diet restrictions (which I have been researching because I try to never go to a meeting unprepared) and about measuring my blood sugar levels every day. I have a lot of questions so I hope she has a lot of answers for me. Oh!! We're also going to register at the hospital we've chosen so I'm excited about that :).
I'll update tomorrow!
Pregnancy after PPCM--Part 3
It's amazing how people don't realize how important family support is in our everyday lives. For women who have gone thru PPCM I have found it's like 5 times more important. It's important for our family to understand our condition and know that yes during pregnancy we are vulnerable and sometimes even when we are not pregnant but WE know what WE can and cannot do. Since my heart failure issue my family has pretty much treated me like if the looked at me too hard I was going to break. Along with that came the questions "can you eat______?" or "is it ok for you to do ____?" and among the braver people "can you get pregnant again?" and "are you sure it's safe to get pregnant again? I mean you could always adopt or travel the world with your husband instead?" although PPCM women understand that these questions stem from general concern and love for the said woman the still sting, some questions deeper than others and yet people don't stop and think about it before hand.
When I last left you my family was suffocating me with concern and I was contemplating hiding my pregnancy for them so they wouldn't have to worry about me so much. One day I was doing my daily chores when I got a phone call from my mom. She mentioned that my aunt had told her that I had said that we wouldn't be going home for Christmas she asked why. I told her that we needed to save money and my husband needed to save vacation time if we were going to try and have another baby. Then she asked if maybe I was planning on hiding my pregnancy from them. I swear my mom is psychic but only with her kids LOL. I told her I had thought about it because I really didn't want to worry them and I knew that when I got pregnant they were going to treat me like I was completely unable to take care of myself. I told her about the conversation I had with my aunt and how she was planning on sending people to babysit me and how that bothered me to my very core. At this point my mom started laughing, it confused me to say the least. She then explained to me that she had nothing to do with that and that she knew me better than that and she had no plans on coming up to babysit me because she knew I wouldn't let her on base if she did LOL. She said that she's always going to worry about me because she's my mom not because I'm "broken" (as I put it) and that she was going to love this child as much as my first and she was going to be thrilled and she didn't want to miss any part of it.
This was the greatest gift my mom has given me since my birth. The relief I felt was unmeasurable!! And I was thrilled that this meant that I could share my pregnancy with my family and that my mom had my back...like always :). Since, my mom has not missed a beat! As soon as I got my pregnancy (lab) test back I told her that she was going to be a grandma again. She was thrilled and so was my dad. I call her after every appointment and both my parents have been fabulous supporters as has the rest of our family. Some family members are still nervous but they try not to show it. And after every milestone we all take a collective sigh.
Someone once said it takes a village to raise a child...I would go further and say that is takes a village to make a child too despite the science ;). When planning a post-PPCM baby I would encourage women to talk to their families and not be afraid to state what they need be it privacy, serenity, a cheer squad, or just plain ol' love and suppport. Without my family I would not be where I am today on my trip down Mommy Lane...
To be continued...
When I last left you my family was suffocating me with concern and I was contemplating hiding my pregnancy for them so they wouldn't have to worry about me so much. One day I was doing my daily chores when I got a phone call from my mom. She mentioned that my aunt had told her that I had said that we wouldn't be going home for Christmas she asked why. I told her that we needed to save money and my husband needed to save vacation time if we were going to try and have another baby. Then she asked if maybe I was planning on hiding my pregnancy from them. I swear my mom is psychic but only with her kids LOL. I told her I had thought about it because I really didn't want to worry them and I knew that when I got pregnant they were going to treat me like I was completely unable to take care of myself. I told her about the conversation I had with my aunt and how she was planning on sending people to babysit me and how that bothered me to my very core. At this point my mom started laughing, it confused me to say the least. She then explained to me that she had nothing to do with that and that she knew me better than that and she had no plans on coming up to babysit me because she knew I wouldn't let her on base if she did LOL. She said that she's always going to worry about me because she's my mom not because I'm "broken" (as I put it) and that she was going to love this child as much as my first and she was going to be thrilled and she didn't want to miss any part of it.
This was the greatest gift my mom has given me since my birth. The relief I felt was unmeasurable!! And I was thrilled that this meant that I could share my pregnancy with my family and that my mom had my back...like always :). Since, my mom has not missed a beat! As soon as I got my pregnancy (lab) test back I told her that she was going to be a grandma again. She was thrilled and so was my dad. I call her after every appointment and both my parents have been fabulous supporters as has the rest of our family. Some family members are still nervous but they try not to show it. And after every milestone we all take a collective sigh.
Someone once said it takes a village to raise a child...I would go further and say that is takes a village to make a child too despite the science ;). When planning a post-PPCM baby I would encourage women to talk to their families and not be afraid to state what they need be it privacy, serenity, a cheer squad, or just plain ol' love and suppport. Without my family I would not be where I am today on my trip down Mommy Lane...
To be continued...
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Pregnancy after PPCM--Part 2
There are many different kinds of families, mine is the Mexican kind...the kind that feels ownership over everything you do and feels like they have a right to treat you like your 5 whether you are indeed 5 or if you are 25 (or 28 like me!). Don't get me wrong, I love my family...which is probably why I let them torture me LOL. But the hardest part of the whole "getting ready to start trying to get pregnant" process was fearing what would happen when I did get pregnant.
One thing you should know about my family is that it's a very matriarch driven family. There's my Grammy, that I love SO much but is one of the most stubborn, closed-minded people I know and she knows that she feels it's her right as a senior citizen LOL. My Grammy's been used to calling the shots for way too long to give it up just because she's old. There's my aunt (also my godmother) who never got married or had children so my siblings and I are like her children. She really is like another mom to me so she's always included in the decision making process not only because of her mom status but because she's one of the most educated people I know. Then there's my mom, who I owe my life to and I never forget that. What can I say I love my mom!! But she can get a little crazy with the over-protection sometimes...but she's my mom it's her job! Then there's my dad...poor Dad! He's always outnumbered by the women and totally hates it (most of the time) so he's kind of grumpy about it. Those are the most influential people in my life, their opinions mean the world to me and always affect me regardless if they make sense or not. When I got they freaked of course. My mom went to take care of me (which I will always be grateful to her for it!!) and everyone aged just a little bit from the experience. I was naturally concerned that they had not had enough time to heal from the last time for me to get pregnant again. But I didn't have much a choice. I was on a time crunch...30 was approaching fast. So there was a big question needed to answer....Would my family freak when I got pregnant?
I recall a conversation I had with my aunt where she suggested that when I decided to get pregnant again, she was going to send my grandma to take care of me when I was 3-5 months pregnant and when I got to about 7 months pregnant she'd send my mother up to take care of me. Now when we had this conversation I had just climbed a mountain...literally!! I had gone on a 4.5 mile hike up a mountain by my house and done fairly well! I had been feeling good about myself. Then she said that they were going to babysit me during almost my entire pregnancy. I was humiliated, insulted, hurt...I couldn't help but do something I'd never done with my aunt...argue. In my 28 years alive I had never argued with her but this was ridiculous to me. I told her that I was doing GREAT and that I wouldn't get pregnant without the full confidence of my cardiologist and in my self. That I wouldn't do it if I didn't think I could. And that if they couldn't handle being pregnant I just wouldn't tell them if that meant I could have a peaceful pregnancy without being treated like I am broken or defective that I felt enough of that and that I didn't need my family...the people that are supposed to encourage me, strengthen me, and support me treating me like damaged goods. That if I needed help I would ask for it!
I felt horrible for letting it all out but it was something she needed to hear or she would take control of a situation that she shouldn't be trying to control. Like every argument in our family, as soon as the argument ended it was forgotten...by them, not by me. This one argument haunted me for months!! It made me wonder if maybe not telling my family when I did get pregnant was the best option. Of course, the thought of not being able to share this with people that I love so much and that mean so much to me made me miserable, but if it meant I was going to have a more carefree pregnancy (which is what would be best for me and my baby) I had to contemplate it. Not to mention the argument had made my entire family paranoid that I wouldn't tell them about my pregnancy so every time I talked to them I would get very private things asked to me like "are you and your husband still using birth control?" yes...the perfect conversation to have with your GRANDMOTHER!!! Can we say *blush*? As the months passed and we started trying this concern was weighing heavily on me, heavier than I had anticipated. Now I was not concerned that my family would freak when I got pregnant I was too busy with them freaking before I got pregnant! And so all of this made my trip down Mommy Lane all that more trying...
To be continued...
One thing you should know about my family is that it's a very matriarch driven family. There's my Grammy, that I love SO much but is one of the most stubborn, closed-minded people I know and she knows that she feels it's her right as a senior citizen LOL. My Grammy's been used to calling the shots for way too long to give it up just because she's old. There's my aunt (also my godmother) who never got married or had children so my siblings and I are like her children. She really is like another mom to me so she's always included in the decision making process not only because of her mom status but because she's one of the most educated people I know. Then there's my mom, who I owe my life to and I never forget that. What can I say I love my mom!! But she can get a little crazy with the over-protection sometimes...but she's my mom it's her job! Then there's my dad...poor Dad! He's always outnumbered by the women and totally hates it (most of the time) so he's kind of grumpy about it. Those are the most influential people in my life, their opinions mean the world to me and always affect me regardless if they make sense or not. When I got they freaked of course. My mom went to take care of me (which I will always be grateful to her for it!!) and everyone aged just a little bit from the experience. I was naturally concerned that they had not had enough time to heal from the last time for me to get pregnant again. But I didn't have much a choice. I was on a time crunch...30 was approaching fast. So there was a big question needed to answer....Would my family freak when I got pregnant?
I recall a conversation I had with my aunt where she suggested that when I decided to get pregnant again, she was going to send my grandma to take care of me when I was 3-5 months pregnant and when I got to about 7 months pregnant she'd send my mother up to take care of me. Now when we had this conversation I had just climbed a mountain...literally!! I had gone on a 4.5 mile hike up a mountain by my house and done fairly well! I had been feeling good about myself. Then she said that they were going to babysit me during almost my entire pregnancy. I was humiliated, insulted, hurt...I couldn't help but do something I'd never done with my aunt...argue. In my 28 years alive I had never argued with her but this was ridiculous to me. I told her that I was doing GREAT and that I wouldn't get pregnant without the full confidence of my cardiologist and in my self. That I wouldn't do it if I didn't think I could. And that if they couldn't handle being pregnant I just wouldn't tell them if that meant I could have a peaceful pregnancy without being treated like I am broken or defective that I felt enough of that and that I didn't need my family...the people that are supposed to encourage me, strengthen me, and support me treating me like damaged goods. That if I needed help I would ask for it!
I felt horrible for letting it all out but it was something she needed to hear or she would take control of a situation that she shouldn't be trying to control. Like every argument in our family, as soon as the argument ended it was forgotten...by them, not by me. This one argument haunted me for months!! It made me wonder if maybe not telling my family when I did get pregnant was the best option. Of course, the thought of not being able to share this with people that I love so much and that mean so much to me made me miserable, but if it meant I was going to have a more carefree pregnancy (which is what would be best for me and my baby) I had to contemplate it. Not to mention the argument had made my entire family paranoid that I wouldn't tell them about my pregnancy so every time I talked to them I would get very private things asked to me like "are you and your husband still using birth control?" yes...the perfect conversation to have with your GRANDMOTHER!!! Can we say *blush*? As the months passed and we started trying this concern was weighing heavily on me, heavier than I had anticipated. Now I was not concerned that my family would freak when I got pregnant I was too busy with them freaking before I got pregnant! And so all of this made my trip down Mommy Lane all that more trying...
To be continued...
Monday, March 22, 2010
Pregnancy after PPCM--Part 1
After I recovered; got my diet down; exercise routine down; and my cardiologist, therapist, primary care manager (PCM), and perinatologist (high risk OB) all to give me a green light on trying to conceive once again, the IUD was removed and on August 2009 we were ready to go! Unfortunately things did could not happen fast enough for us. I had a very negative view of pregnancy b/c of my first (and so far only) experience. To me pregnancy was uncomfortable, dangerous, scary, and warped my body in ways that I never thought possible, so I just wanted it to be like a band-aid: to come, and go quickly, "just rip it off" type of thing. I used to cringe at the thought of being pregnant again...but I wanted a baby, what's more is I wanted a baby that was half my hubby and half me.
People often ask me why I would risk my life again. It's simple in my mind, I LOVE my husband, I think he's a wonderful human being and if I can make someone that is part of him, if future generations can have part of him then I've done a REALLY good thing. Corny, I know but it's true.
So we started trying and failing...at least failure was what I felt every time I got my period. What was worst was that my daughter's second angelversary was fast approaching and I couldn't help but feel like maybe I didn't deserve to be a mom, maybe being totally happy was an impossibility. As the months passed a dove deeper and deeper into a new depression and I felt like I was trying to swim with cement shoes on because I knew that depression was not going to speed up the process.
During these trying months I kept a journal since I didn't want to make my journey public just yet and now I'll share my journal entries with you all....
September 8, 2009
I got my period today. Even though it was one day late I wasn't disappointed. It's funny how sometimes you just know. I knew it wasn't my month. Still there's that little shade of what wants to be hope waiting on the sidelines waiting to make the change.
Once that shadow of the desire of hope is smudged out of existence comes the fear and pressure from the time crunch. I am now 28 and as my new OB put it "if we're going to do this, the faster [I] get pregnant, the safer it will be for all involved." According to the little bit of research that exists on the subject the risk for PPCM goes up with pregnancy after the age of 30. Not to mention that the chances of multiple pregnancies goes up shortly after the age of 30 as well which can also increase the chance of PPCM.
My rational side tells me that it's not likely that it will take us a year to get pregnant (much less 2). Sadly, hormones and rational thinking are not BFFs so I know that each month I have to deal with PMS I know I will have to deal with these irrational fears. So here's hoping that there are not many PMS weeks in my near future!
Thanks to the tons of therapy I knew myself well enough to know that if this didn't work quickly I was going to have to deal with all sorts of irrational fears. Unfortunately being aware of them doesn't make them less frightening. Beyond that I had to deal with external fears. My family was just as scared (if not more) scared than I was and it's really hard to keep a positive outlook on things when people you love are still questioning your decisions. My hubby seemed like he was the only one in my corner for a while and I was afraid of even telling our family we were trying (tho everyone had their suspicions). A pregnancy was going to be simply impossible to keep a secret despite the fact that we live in a different state than our family, but we are still too close. So I had to prepare my family for my (hopefully) fast approaching pregnancy and find a way to deal with those irrational fears of my own...and so my trip down Mommy Lane just kept getting more complicated by the month!
to be continued...
People often ask me why I would risk my life again. It's simple in my mind, I LOVE my husband, I think he's a wonderful human being and if I can make someone that is part of him, if future generations can have part of him then I've done a REALLY good thing. Corny, I know but it's true.
So we started trying and failing...at least failure was what I felt every time I got my period. What was worst was that my daughter's second angelversary was fast approaching and I couldn't help but feel like maybe I didn't deserve to be a mom, maybe being totally happy was an impossibility. As the months passed a dove deeper and deeper into a new depression and I felt like I was trying to swim with cement shoes on because I knew that depression was not going to speed up the process.
During these trying months I kept a journal since I didn't want to make my journey public just yet and now I'll share my journal entries with you all....
September 8, 2009
I got my period today. Even though it was one day late I wasn't disappointed. It's funny how sometimes you just know. I knew it wasn't my month. Still there's that little shade of what wants to be hope waiting on the sidelines waiting to make the change.
Once that shadow of the desire of hope is smudged out of existence comes the fear and pressure from the time crunch. I am now 28 and as my new OB put it "if we're going to do this, the faster [I] get pregnant, the safer it will be for all involved." According to the little bit of research that exists on the subject the risk for PPCM goes up with pregnancy after the age of 30. Not to mention that the chances of multiple pregnancies goes up shortly after the age of 30 as well which can also increase the chance of PPCM.
My rational side tells me that it's not likely that it will take us a year to get pregnant (much less 2). Sadly, hormones and rational thinking are not BFFs so I know that each month I have to deal with PMS I know I will have to deal with these irrational fears. So here's hoping that there are not many PMS weeks in my near future!
Thanks to the tons of therapy I knew myself well enough to know that if this didn't work quickly I was going to have to deal with all sorts of irrational fears. Unfortunately being aware of them doesn't make them less frightening. Beyond that I had to deal with external fears. My family was just as scared (if not more) scared than I was and it's really hard to keep a positive outlook on things when people you love are still questioning your decisions. My hubby seemed like he was the only one in my corner for a while and I was afraid of even telling our family we were trying (tho everyone had their suspicions). A pregnancy was going to be simply impossible to keep a secret despite the fact that we live in a different state than our family, but we are still too close. So I had to prepare my family for my (hopefully) fast approaching pregnancy and find a way to deal with those irrational fears of my own...and so my trip down Mommy Lane just kept getting more complicated by the month!
to be continued...
What does it take?--Part 8 (Final)
And so now you know everything I had to do to get all the doctors going in the right direction, what I've gone thru and how it affected. And now what? Well, now we try the whole 'we're having a baby!' thing again. Easy enough right? Funny, kids don't come right when you want them...so that was a journey all on its own! And so the beginning of a new journey on my trip down Mommy Lane begins...trying to get pregnant!
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
What does it take?--Part 7
In mid July of 2009 I finally got to meet the perinatologist (high risk OB) and she reacted as most doctors usually react when they meet me. She asked me about my condition and how it's affected me personally. I told her how I was lucky enough to have recovered and unlucky enough to not have my daughter, and how we wanted to try again. She went on this long rant about how I was not treasuring my life enough and how I shouldn't gamble it away on another pregnancy. She kept talking to my husband about whether he was ready to raise a child on his own and since they would probably have to deliver early that it would probably end up being a special needs child. She didn't tell us anything we hadn't already read about or considered but having it thrown in our faces had me feeling distraught to say the least. We told her it wasn't a decision we had made lightly, we had considered the risks and consequences for nearly two years and that we felt that considering my particular statistics the chance of relapse was somewhere between 2-10%, that according to the cardiologists we had seen and consulted with (one being one of the leading cardiologists in the field) that my body should be able to take a full term pregnancy provided I continue doing exercise (as my body dictated); continue my low sodium, low fat, low cholesterol diet; and I am monitored very closely. She still seemed hesitant but told me that if our mind was set then we needed to get pregnant as soon as possible since I was so close to my 30th birthday, because once I hit 30 my chances of relapse go up as well as chances of other complications. We agreed with her, we told her that we were well aware of the time crunch and that was why we had gone to see her.
After I left I felt awful, I felt selfish and like maybe we had made the wrong decision. My husband held me while I cried and reassured me that everything will be fine. Then he asked me the one question that cemented our decision...what is the worst that could happen? My answer was simple as far as I was concerned:
Well, I know that I won't die, I can take this! Worst case scenario I end up relapsing, but since everyone is keeping a close eye on me I don't think I can get bad enough to where I would need a transplant. But our baby...I was not willing to consider the worst, worst case scenario...loosing him...b/c we were not going to settle for that again! But he could end up being born early...too early and that scares me. He could end up in the NICU and be special needs.
My hubs asked if we could handle a special needs kid, the answer again was plain to see...
Yes! We know a few little miracles that were born very early, and they all have grown to be very normal kids, yes they had rough starts, and their parents nearly lost their minds watching their little ones in the NICU but they all made it through and they all tell me that those tough times seem like such a long time ago and they are overshadowed by their kids' accomplishments and milestones.
We talked about that for a long time and he said "Ok, so we know we can deal with the worst case scenario, but what if we don't do it? You are completely recovered don't have to take any meds, and can lead a completely normal life, what if we don't do it?" I told him "Well, we'll always be wondering about the what ifs" he asked if we could deal with that, and we agreed that we could not, so with that our decision was made and we were not going back! We were going to start trying to conceive our second (and last) child.
And after two and a half of the longest years of my life, I had finally reached another milestone in my trip down Mommy Lane.
To be continued...
After I left I felt awful, I felt selfish and like maybe we had made the wrong decision. My husband held me while I cried and reassured me that everything will be fine. Then he asked me the one question that cemented our decision...what is the worst that could happen? My answer was simple as far as I was concerned:
Well, I know that I won't die, I can take this! Worst case scenario I end up relapsing, but since everyone is keeping a close eye on me I don't think I can get bad enough to where I would need a transplant. But our baby...I was not willing to consider the worst, worst case scenario...loosing him...b/c we were not going to settle for that again! But he could end up being born early...too early and that scares me. He could end up in the NICU and be special needs.
My hubs asked if we could handle a special needs kid, the answer again was plain to see...
Yes! We know a few little miracles that were born very early, and they all have grown to be very normal kids, yes they had rough starts, and their parents nearly lost their minds watching their little ones in the NICU but they all made it through and they all tell me that those tough times seem like such a long time ago and they are overshadowed by their kids' accomplishments and milestones.
We talked about that for a long time and he said "Ok, so we know we can deal with the worst case scenario, but what if we don't do it? You are completely recovered don't have to take any meds, and can lead a completely normal life, what if we don't do it?" I told him "Well, we'll always be wondering about the what ifs" he asked if we could deal with that, and we agreed that we could not, so with that our decision was made and we were not going back! We were going to start trying to conceive our second (and last) child.
And after two and a half of the longest years of my life, I had finally reached another milestone in my trip down Mommy Lane.
To be continued...
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
What does it take?--Part 6
I've mentioned my therapist before but I don't think I've ever really talked about him. Since the day I woke up in the ICU medical professionals had been trying to diagnose me with post-partum depression, or just plain depression and have tried shoving pills down my throat or sending me to a support group. But in all honesty, when it comes to getting help it's only good when you are ready to accept it. When we moved it took a big toll on me and my husband and I dipped into an even bigger depression than I had before, my heart seemed to be under control and I now had to face the loss that we had suffered. I would have nightmares of waking up in the ICU and holding my lifeless child, I would be doing everyday things like shopping and have a flashback so real that I swore I was still living those early days and only dreaming of a less painful future. Of course those flashbacks would result in a horrible panic attack where I would have trouble breathing, I would start hyperventilating and would curl up in a ball and be unable to move from there. Eventually it all became too much to bare, what was worst is that I could see how much it would hurt my husband to see me go through these and not be able to fix me. So I went to my primary care manager (PCM) and asked for a referral to a therapist. I told him what I was going thru and told him I was ready to talk to someone about it.
A few days later, I met my therapist. I was overwhelmed by just how much stuff I had been holding in. It was an amazing experience to be able to talk to someone who had no stake in my situation, that wasn't affected by tears, someone who I could drop the mask for and I could just be as I felt at the time...broken. I realized that I had been too preoccupied with helping my family not hurt that I hadn't allowed myself to heal and the cut my soul had encountered had festered. That I had allowed the doctor that had neglected me to break me and that I was no longer the strong, independent woman I had always seen myself as. Slowly, we worked thru my pain and my fear and after each session I would recap it to my faithful husband who would always take some time off work to be there for me if I needed it and surprisingly it helped him too. And slowly we began to heal. That doesn't mean that it no longer hurts, I think it's always going to hurt. But it's manageable pain, I can now reserve time to cry if I need it and I know why I'm crying (which is so important). I can also allow myself to be happy without feeling guilty or out of place while doing it. All of this is thanks to my therapist. When I went to him to let him know that my cardio had given me the all-clear for having another baby he was beyond excited for me (no longer completely detached from my situation)and he was able to prepare me for what I could possibly feel as I tried to conceive, and when I got pregnant. And I still see him for "maintenance" lol.
The next step was to get a referral to a perinatologist (high risk OB) and that was an adventure in and of it's own. I felt like a hurdle jumper! I had to see my PCM (where all military referrals start!), then I had to go to a bigger military hospital to see an OB to get my annual exam and push the referral further, and after 3 months I finally got a referral....to a doctor that is no longer in the area lol, so I had to research local doctors then call my insurance to change the provider and I had finally set an appointment to meet up with the peri and see if she would take my case. And that was just another millions stepping stones on my trip down Mommy Lane...
to be continued...
A few days later, I met my therapist. I was overwhelmed by just how much stuff I had been holding in. It was an amazing experience to be able to talk to someone who had no stake in my situation, that wasn't affected by tears, someone who I could drop the mask for and I could just be as I felt at the time...broken. I realized that I had been too preoccupied with helping my family not hurt that I hadn't allowed myself to heal and the cut my soul had encountered had festered. That I had allowed the doctor that had neglected me to break me and that I was no longer the strong, independent woman I had always seen myself as. Slowly, we worked thru my pain and my fear and after each session I would recap it to my faithful husband who would always take some time off work to be there for me if I needed it and surprisingly it helped him too. And slowly we began to heal. That doesn't mean that it no longer hurts, I think it's always going to hurt. But it's manageable pain, I can now reserve time to cry if I need it and I know why I'm crying (which is so important). I can also allow myself to be happy without feeling guilty or out of place while doing it. All of this is thanks to my therapist. When I went to him to let him know that my cardio had given me the all-clear for having another baby he was beyond excited for me (no longer completely detached from my situation)and he was able to prepare me for what I could possibly feel as I tried to conceive, and when I got pregnant. And I still see him for "maintenance" lol.
The next step was to get a referral to a perinatologist (high risk OB) and that was an adventure in and of it's own. I felt like a hurdle jumper! I had to see my PCM (where all military referrals start!), then I had to go to a bigger military hospital to see an OB to get my annual exam and push the referral further, and after 3 months I finally got a referral....to a doctor that is no longer in the area lol, so I had to research local doctors then call my insurance to change the provider and I had finally set an appointment to meet up with the peri and see if she would take my case. And that was just another millions stepping stones on my trip down Mommy Lane...
to be continued...
Pregnancy Update! 18 Wks
OK so the last time I did a real-time update I told you all that I am pregnant. Well today I am officially half way down my journey! Since I have to have a planned c-section and since last time I was pregnant I went into congestive heart failure at 37wks my OB and I have decided that the best preventive route would be to deliver at 36wks, and today I am officially 18wks!! My last cardiology appointment (on the 2nd of this month) went great! I had my 2nd trimester echocardiogram and it showed that my ejection fraction (EF) was 66% well above the borderline "normal" of 55% and my heart was measuring all normal so I don't have to see him until July (just before delivery!) which is a REALLY good sign. My OB appointment went equally well I got the all-clear to go swimming instead of boring myself with walking everyday and we found out that the Bean is a BOY!!!
People ask me how I feel about having a boy after having lost our little girl. To be honest I feel relieved, the entire time I didn't know what he was I honestly thought I didn't care. However, now that I know he's a boy I find it a relief. I feel like had he been a girl I would have a higher chance of feeling more anxiety towards the end, that's not to guarantee I won't, not to mention I realized that I would have felt like I was holding my breath for the rest of her life, hoping and praying that she didn't get PPCM. Considering the research on PPCM is very limited and it's still not entirely clear wether PPCM is genetic or not I would have been scared.
So overall I'm doing really well!! I've gained about 2lbs so far and all within the second trimester (just like it's supposed to happen), I don't have any swelling, no shortness of breath--tho I have horrible allergies! And most importantly my little guy is doing great!
I'm on top of the world on my trip down Mommy Lane :)
People ask me how I feel about having a boy after having lost our little girl. To be honest I feel relieved, the entire time I didn't know what he was I honestly thought I didn't care. However, now that I know he's a boy I find it a relief. I feel like had he been a girl I would have a higher chance of feeling more anxiety towards the end, that's not to guarantee I won't, not to mention I realized that I would have felt like I was holding my breath for the rest of her life, hoping and praying that she didn't get PPCM. Considering the research on PPCM is very limited and it's still not entirely clear wether PPCM is genetic or not I would have been scared.
So overall I'm doing really well!! I've gained about 2lbs so far and all within the second trimester (just like it's supposed to happen), I don't have any swelling, no shortness of breath--tho I have horrible allergies! And most importantly my little guy is doing great!
I'm on top of the world on my trip down Mommy Lane :)
Friday, February 12, 2010
What does it take--Part 5
After 4 months we moved states. Talk about tough!! We had to acclimate to a new culture, new weather patterns, and new elevation. Not to mention I had to make sure I had all my ducks in a row (pick up copies of my medical records, set up new doctors, and make sure our move went smoothly administrative wise). It was a nice distraction and I was looking forward to the move, the truth is OKC had never really been the ideal place for this little TX girl and after loosing my daughter I hated everything about it. Everything but my cardiologist! I was really nervous about having to find a new cardiologist.
When we arrived in our new home in New Mexico we were surprised at the giant house we had gotten. We were surprised at how remote it was, and we were surprised that our cell phones didn't work! The scenery however was beautiful!!! I hadn't lived by mountains since I was very little in Mexico and I loved looking at something other than flat, barren land. The house was beautiful and it was the first time in our married life that we had gotten placed in a single family home vs an apartment. I had set this house up months in advance, before everything happened, so it was tough looking at it without picturing Michelle's stuff all over the place. The fact that we had very little furniture at the time didn't help the situation. Once we got settled and I didn't have anything else to occupy me I dipped into depression once again. To add to that I noticed I was feeling short of breath very quickly and didn't know why this was happening. I began having panic attacks, one was bad enough that I went to the ER they have here (a tiny room with ill-equiped staff) where the nurse on duty told me that I was merely having a panic attack and that I needed to calm down. Once I made them give me an EKG (b/c I was not leaving without proof that I was not having a heart attack!) I went home and the next morning I made an appointment to see a PCM (primary care manager). Since the PCM wasn't available for a week or so and I needed refills I went into the clinic and they were able to set me up with my refills and I asked what I had to do to get a referral for a cardiologist, the doctor on duty told me that he was the "cardiologist equivalent" and that he'd be happy to consult me, I told him thanks but no thanks and insisted on a referral. I should inform you that I am an Air Force wife, in an different branch post...in the middle of no where. Needless to say...tough times! But more on this later....when I met my new PCM I told him about the panic attacks I had been having, and about the shortness of breath (which by this time was beginning to get better). He told me I had experienced something called "elevation sickness" and that it was very common in this area...can we say BIG sigh of relief!?! And he agreed that I was indeed having panic attacks and I was in a deep depression which of course was understandable. He strongly suggested seeing a therapist and maybe taking anti-depressants. Well I was on enough pills so I took the first option.
A few weeks later I went to go see a therapist for the first time in my life. It's helped me a lot, 2 years later I still see him. I feel like it's good to have that kind of person in your life someone that will listen to your problems no matter how petty and will help you reflect on them. I highly recommend it! Slowly with a lot of work and some wonderful advice from my therapist I was able to dig myself out of the dark hole I was in and focus on having a fulfilling life, not one stuck in the past.
As for the cardiologist situation: after lots of advocating on my behalf I was referred to a bigger military hospital where I saw a military cardiologist...well saw is such a hard word to use. You see, my cardiologist had this useless secretary that would never be able to schedule me for an appointment (I called her "the Gatekeeper") in the 10 months or so he was my cardiologist I was able to see him 2 times after months of trying to see him. With the goals I had in mind this arrangement was not going to do, so I got a referral for a civilian cardiologist (which I got to pick!). This of course didn't come without a lot of work on my behalf and my PCM's.
Selecting my cardiologist was a little difficult I didn't want to have to change again, so I googled to my little (big) heart's content. I found a doctor that had studied at several prestigious hospitals (Mayo clinic included) I scheduled an appointment and printed out all the info I could find on PPCM for him to study if he wasn't familiar with it. When my appointment came I took all that research I had done and went to meet the new cardiologist. The first question out of my mouth was "how much do you know about PPCM?" he looked at me with a puzzled look and said "actually I know quite a bit, I studied at the Mayo clinic under a doctor that was studying it when it first became an actual diagnosis, I've treated a good handful of women with PPCM...is that what you have?" after sending a quick 'thank you!!!!' to God or whoever was looking out for me that day I told him my story. He immediately browsed my file then sent me for an echo and full spectrum of blood work. A couple of weeks later I saw him again and found out my EF (ejection fraction) had gone up again! Now it was at 73%! And since I had been on the meds for a year and a half I was now eligible to start weening off the meds. He also didn't think I was a nut job for wanting to have another shot at motherhood which made me very happy!
Weening off the meds was a long process, he wanted to be careful and ween me off slowly while increasing my cardio activity. He told me to start adding a little more sodium in my diet (up to 2300 mg a day) so we could test my body's limits. It was awesome to see that I was living like a normal human being for the first time in what seemed like FOREVER and feel great while doing it! At the end of my pill removal process I went on a 4 mile hike up a mountain with a group of friends, I had a bit of a panic attack when I found myself short of breath (once again forgetting elevation does that to a normal person--until my therapist mentioned it when I told him about it). Other than that I was happy that I was able to survive it. When I saw my cardiologist again, he did another echo that looked the same as the last time I had gotten it. I told him about my hiking and he was VERY impressed. He told me I could get off my meds, and I asked him "ok...can I get pg again?" he smiled and said "I don't see why not...you climbed a mountain! You can do this!" of course I started crying and he told me to control my emotions because I was going to have too many soon. He recommended that I continue seeing my therapist and that I see a high risk OB before I decide to get pregnant but that I had the "all clear" from him.
And so feeling on top of the world I went off to fight for the referrals I needed to get the "all clear" from all the other doctors to continue on my trip down mommy lane.
To be continued...
When we arrived in our new home in New Mexico we were surprised at the giant house we had gotten. We were surprised at how remote it was, and we were surprised that our cell phones didn't work! The scenery however was beautiful!!! I hadn't lived by mountains since I was very little in Mexico and I loved looking at something other than flat, barren land. The house was beautiful and it was the first time in our married life that we had gotten placed in a single family home vs an apartment. I had set this house up months in advance, before everything happened, so it was tough looking at it without picturing Michelle's stuff all over the place. The fact that we had very little furniture at the time didn't help the situation. Once we got settled and I didn't have anything else to occupy me I dipped into depression once again. To add to that I noticed I was feeling short of breath very quickly and didn't know why this was happening. I began having panic attacks, one was bad enough that I went to the ER they have here (a tiny room with ill-equiped staff) where the nurse on duty told me that I was merely having a panic attack and that I needed to calm down. Once I made them give me an EKG (b/c I was not leaving without proof that I was not having a heart attack!) I went home and the next morning I made an appointment to see a PCM (primary care manager). Since the PCM wasn't available for a week or so and I needed refills I went into the clinic and they were able to set me up with my refills and I asked what I had to do to get a referral for a cardiologist, the doctor on duty told me that he was the "cardiologist equivalent" and that he'd be happy to consult me, I told him thanks but no thanks and insisted on a referral. I should inform you that I am an Air Force wife, in an different branch post...in the middle of no where. Needless to say...tough times! But more on this later....when I met my new PCM I told him about the panic attacks I had been having, and about the shortness of breath (which by this time was beginning to get better). He told me I had experienced something called "elevation sickness" and that it was very common in this area...can we say BIG sigh of relief!?! And he agreed that I was indeed having panic attacks and I was in a deep depression which of course was understandable. He strongly suggested seeing a therapist and maybe taking anti-depressants. Well I was on enough pills so I took the first option.
A few weeks later I went to go see a therapist for the first time in my life. It's helped me a lot, 2 years later I still see him. I feel like it's good to have that kind of person in your life someone that will listen to your problems no matter how petty and will help you reflect on them. I highly recommend it! Slowly with a lot of work and some wonderful advice from my therapist I was able to dig myself out of the dark hole I was in and focus on having a fulfilling life, not one stuck in the past.
As for the cardiologist situation: after lots of advocating on my behalf I was referred to a bigger military hospital where I saw a military cardiologist...well saw is such a hard word to use. You see, my cardiologist had this useless secretary that would never be able to schedule me for an appointment (I called her "the Gatekeeper") in the 10 months or so he was my cardiologist I was able to see him 2 times after months of trying to see him. With the goals I had in mind this arrangement was not going to do, so I got a referral for a civilian cardiologist (which I got to pick!). This of course didn't come without a lot of work on my behalf and my PCM's.
Selecting my cardiologist was a little difficult I didn't want to have to change again, so I googled to my little (big) heart's content. I found a doctor that had studied at several prestigious hospitals (Mayo clinic included) I scheduled an appointment and printed out all the info I could find on PPCM for him to study if he wasn't familiar with it. When my appointment came I took all that research I had done and went to meet the new cardiologist. The first question out of my mouth was "how much do you know about PPCM?" he looked at me with a puzzled look and said "actually I know quite a bit, I studied at the Mayo clinic under a doctor that was studying it when it first became an actual diagnosis, I've treated a good handful of women with PPCM...is that what you have?" after sending a quick 'thank you!!!!' to God or whoever was looking out for me that day I told him my story. He immediately browsed my file then sent me for an echo and full spectrum of blood work. A couple of weeks later I saw him again and found out my EF (ejection fraction) had gone up again! Now it was at 73%! And since I had been on the meds for a year and a half I was now eligible to start weening off the meds. He also didn't think I was a nut job for wanting to have another shot at motherhood which made me very happy!
Weening off the meds was a long process, he wanted to be careful and ween me off slowly while increasing my cardio activity. He told me to start adding a little more sodium in my diet (up to 2300 mg a day) so we could test my body's limits. It was awesome to see that I was living like a normal human being for the first time in what seemed like FOREVER and feel great while doing it! At the end of my pill removal process I went on a 4 mile hike up a mountain with a group of friends, I had a bit of a panic attack when I found myself short of breath (once again forgetting elevation does that to a normal person--until my therapist mentioned it when I told him about it). Other than that I was happy that I was able to survive it. When I saw my cardiologist again, he did another echo that looked the same as the last time I had gotten it. I told him about my hiking and he was VERY impressed. He told me I could get off my meds, and I asked him "ok...can I get pg again?" he smiled and said "I don't see why not...you climbed a mountain! You can do this!" of course I started crying and he told me to control my emotions because I was going to have too many soon. He recommended that I continue seeing my therapist and that I see a high risk OB before I decide to get pregnant but that I had the "all clear" from him.
And so feeling on top of the world I went off to fight for the referrals I needed to get the "all clear" from all the other doctors to continue on my trip down mommy lane.
To be continued...
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
What does it take -- Part 4
About 2 weeks after having left the hospital I had follow ups to schedule and go to. Let me tell you scheduling an OB appointment after having lost a child is painful. I remember I called my OB's office and telling the lady on the other side that the Dr had told me to call her for a post-partum follow up and she wanted to see my on ___ date. The lady asked me if I had given birth, and I said yes. She asked how I was enjoying my baby and I told her she had been stillborn. And she said "Oh! You're that Mrs. _____!" ....what do you say? Well I said "Yeah I guess" and of course began to cry. Yay hormones! So she went on to tell me that my Dr was going to see me during her lunch hour so I wouldn't have to wait. I told her I appreciated that. And got scheduled for my appt. You are actually going to hear very little of my follow-up OB appts because they are too painful to remember. I will tell you this...during my first OB appointment she took off the little tapes that they had put over my c-section incision and I asked when they were going to remove the stitches and she told me that they would dissolve by themselves that I was really more glued together than anything else. Talk about scary!!! When we went outside and I saw the ground covered in sheets of ice fear took over me. I would only shuffle along holding my belly because I honestly pictured my uterus flopping out onto the ice or something like that. Looking back that is one of the funniest experiences I've ever had LOL.
Luckily my first cardiologist was AWESOME!!! He's incredibly young but I think that's what makes him such a great doctor. He didn't want to accept a negative prognosis for me, he did his research and found that usually a combination of ace-inhibitors (A-I) and beta blockers (BB) combined with diuretics to get rid of the extra fluid, a fluid restricted diet and sodium restricted diet usually yielded satisfying results. He sat me down and he told me what most cardiologist would tell me--that I wasn't guaranteed a chance to get to be pregnant again. I was told that PPCM research is very scarce and that the truth was no one knew what caused it and that curing it was hit and miss, to consider myself lucky if I didn't require a heart transplant. Then he told me "let's fix your heart first, then we'll see how you can get pregnant again if you decide to do so" talk about HOPE!!! So we got to work! I started with a ridiculous list of meds and even had to get a pill sorter to keep up with everything. I stuck to my diet restrictions like glue, and would do exactly what he told me what to do.
Just before Christmas we got the call that our daughter's urn was ready, now we had to go pick her up. I couldn't let my hubs do that alone and so I went with him. I hadn't gotten a chance to really come to terms with anything and here I was in the car going to some funeral home I'd never seen to pick up what was left of our daughter. I could tell my hubs was not ok, but I didn't know what to do to fix it. So I just held his hand and told him how much I loved him and we went in the funeral home. He did all the talking and the lady there was very nice. She took out the urn and gave it to us to inspect. The second that urn hit my hands I lost it and so did my husband. I couldn't believe that was all that was left of our Michelle. After about 45 minutes of crying in the car, we finally pulled ourselves together and went home.
Christmas came and my dad and little siblings came to visit for a week. It was nice to have them there but painful to see the pain they had in their eyes. My baby sis (8yrs old at the time) was especially confused. So we all did our best to pretend nothing bad had happened and celebrate for the kids. We rented movies and would spend our days clumped up in our living room watching movies (minus the popcorn and goodies). New Years eve I was allowed to leave the apartment to go with my hubs and pick up my cousins from the airport. I was so happy to see them, they were just what I needed, people my age that would distract me...well ok, they are a little younger but still an excellent distraction! We got back to the apartment and chatted up with my parents for a couple of hours then went to bed. The next day my parents and siblings left. It was hard to say goodbye to my mom after having depended on her so greatly for an entire month. Beyond that she was taking my Michelle. We had decided that the best place for her to be was at my Grandma's house with my grandpa's ashes and my brother's ashes. So I had to say goodbye and I couldn't do it, just like when I had to say goodbye to my brother (died of cancer in 2002) I couldn't do it, so I didn't I just said I'll see you soon! I knew I'd be home to see her soon.
After a complete meltdown, I turned to my cousins (who were also crying) and said..."so where are we going?" they looked at me confused and asked if it was safe for me to go out and I said "I have to, I might go insane if I don't PLEASE let me out of here!!!" so after talking to my hubs we decided to go to the botanical gardens and to the zoo (my two favorite OKC places). I would have to stop often and take food in case I got hungry, and it was FREEZING but I needed to get out and the fresh air felt so good! After I told my cardiologist we had done that he was very impressed that I was able to hold up to such day trips. Soon all my family was gone and my hubs and I were left to pick up the pieces and march on.
A month after waking up in ICU everything finally hit me. I remember I was at the checkout line at the store and realized it had been exactly one month. I turned to my hubs and said "I almost died a month ago" he says that I got a panicked look on my face and began breathing quickly and he knew I was about to have a panic attack so payed quickly and got me to the car so I could freak out in peace. I honestly just remember telling him that but I don't remember how I got home...funny how the brain works that way.
Three months after my hospital stay I was completely recovered. With an ejection fraction (EF) of 65% (normal is anything above 50-55%) and was able to do cardio for up to 25 mins. Considering I started at 5 minutes a day it was rockin'!
To be continued...
Luckily my first cardiologist was AWESOME!!! He's incredibly young but I think that's what makes him such a great doctor. He didn't want to accept a negative prognosis for me, he did his research and found that usually a combination of ace-inhibitors (A-I) and beta blockers (BB) combined with diuretics to get rid of the extra fluid, a fluid restricted diet and sodium restricted diet usually yielded satisfying results. He sat me down and he told me what most cardiologist would tell me--that I wasn't guaranteed a chance to get to be pregnant again. I was told that PPCM research is very scarce and that the truth was no one knew what caused it and that curing it was hit and miss, to consider myself lucky if I didn't require a heart transplant. Then he told me "let's fix your heart first, then we'll see how you can get pregnant again if you decide to do so" talk about HOPE!!! So we got to work! I started with a ridiculous list of meds and even had to get a pill sorter to keep up with everything. I stuck to my diet restrictions like glue, and would do exactly what he told me what to do.
Just before Christmas we got the call that our daughter's urn was ready, now we had to go pick her up. I couldn't let my hubs do that alone and so I went with him. I hadn't gotten a chance to really come to terms with anything and here I was in the car going to some funeral home I'd never seen to pick up what was left of our daughter. I could tell my hubs was not ok, but I didn't know what to do to fix it. So I just held his hand and told him how much I loved him and we went in the funeral home. He did all the talking and the lady there was very nice. She took out the urn and gave it to us to inspect. The second that urn hit my hands I lost it and so did my husband. I couldn't believe that was all that was left of our Michelle. After about 45 minutes of crying in the car, we finally pulled ourselves together and went home.
Christmas came and my dad and little siblings came to visit for a week. It was nice to have them there but painful to see the pain they had in their eyes. My baby sis (8yrs old at the time) was especially confused. So we all did our best to pretend nothing bad had happened and celebrate for the kids. We rented movies and would spend our days clumped up in our living room watching movies (minus the popcorn and goodies). New Years eve I was allowed to leave the apartment to go with my hubs and pick up my cousins from the airport. I was so happy to see them, they were just what I needed, people my age that would distract me...well ok, they are a little younger but still an excellent distraction! We got back to the apartment and chatted up with my parents for a couple of hours then went to bed. The next day my parents and siblings left. It was hard to say goodbye to my mom after having depended on her so greatly for an entire month. Beyond that she was taking my Michelle. We had decided that the best place for her to be was at my Grandma's house with my grandpa's ashes and my brother's ashes. So I had to say goodbye and I couldn't do it, just like when I had to say goodbye to my brother (died of cancer in 2002) I couldn't do it, so I didn't I just said I'll see you soon! I knew I'd be home to see her soon.
After a complete meltdown, I turned to my cousins (who were also crying) and said..."so where are we going?" they looked at me confused and asked if it was safe for me to go out and I said "I have to, I might go insane if I don't PLEASE let me out of here!!!" so after talking to my hubs we decided to go to the botanical gardens and to the zoo (my two favorite OKC places). I would have to stop often and take food in case I got hungry, and it was FREEZING but I needed to get out and the fresh air felt so good! After I told my cardiologist we had done that he was very impressed that I was able to hold up to such day trips. Soon all my family was gone and my hubs and I were left to pick up the pieces and march on.
A month after waking up in ICU everything finally hit me. I remember I was at the checkout line at the store and realized it had been exactly one month. I turned to my hubs and said "I almost died a month ago" he says that I got a panicked look on my face and began breathing quickly and he knew I was about to have a panic attack so payed quickly and got me to the car so I could freak out in peace. I honestly just remember telling him that but I don't remember how I got home...funny how the brain works that way.
Three months after my hospital stay I was completely recovered. With an ejection fraction (EF) of 65% (normal is anything above 50-55%) and was able to do cardio for up to 25 mins. Considering I started at 5 minutes a day it was rockin'!
To be continued...
Sorry for the long pause!
Hi everyone! So sorry I haven't blogged in what seems like forever!! A lot has happened in the past few months and I'll be blogging a lot about pretty much everything! When I last left you I had just told you about my story and how I was going to try to have another baby. Well since then I have had many doctor's appointments in preparation for trying to conceive (which I will tell you all about) and had been trying to conceive for three of the longest months in my life! And now I'M PREGNANT!!! I am 13 weeks pregnant and have already seen my cardiologist 2 times, and will see the perinatologist for the 2nd time this week. So obviously we have a lot to catch up on and I will be posting everything within the next few days.
Thanks for hangin' in there!
M.
Thanks for hangin' in there!
M.
Monday, August 3, 2009
The Hubby Chronicles...Learning to cook
When I came home from the hospital over a year and a half ago I was incredibly lucky to have my mom with me for an entire month. Which gave me an entire month to recover and not have to worry about the cooking and the cleaning, etc. Well, once my mom left my hubby took charge. He wanted to do everything and wanted to baby me as much (if not more) than my mom had already done. Unfortunately this was after 3.5 years of having been the "baby," in at least 3.5 years my husband had not picked up a broom, a duster, had to do laundry, or cooked for anyone (not that he did much cooking before we got married). So his man mentality of cooking (grab meat, add salt and char) was not going to work in this particular circumstance. He decided that he could cook while being coached, unfortunately he and I have different perspectives as to what exactly a tablespoon is (his being getting the largest spoon in the drawer and loading it up with whatever it was you were supposed to add) so his food was well...less than perfect.
Because we are banking on our family not requiring to be here as long this time and he wants to give me the same time to recover we've decided I'm going to teach him to cook this time! And so every time I cook now, he's there to observe. Next week he will take the cooking wheel (of sorts)! It is my assessment that he is well enough prepared to start cooking for us once a week in order to condition his culinary skills for when we'll have to rely on them. So each week I'll report to you on his progress and his take on it all (since he's too lazy to do it himself LOL).
Because we are banking on our family not requiring to be here as long this time and he wants to give me the same time to recover we've decided I'm going to teach him to cook this time! And so every time I cook now, he's there to observe. Next week he will take the cooking wheel (of sorts)! It is my assessment that he is well enough prepared to start cooking for us once a week in order to condition his culinary skills for when we'll have to rely on them. So each week I'll report to you on his progress and his take on it all (since he's too lazy to do it himself LOL).
Thursday, July 30, 2009
What does it take, part 3
December 5, 2007...
December 5th was a bittersweet day for me. In a small span of 2.5 days I have managed to not only survive congestive heart failure but get out of ICU and if I could convince my doctors that I was stable enough I would get of the hospital all together-which didn't mean freedom but it would be close enough for now. At 7:30 am the blood pressure lady came in and took my vitals, then the nurses came in with my cocktail of meds (I was at the time taking 14 different pills). I asked the nurse what it would take for them to let me go she said that I had to have a valve movement so that the OB would release me, I would have to walk and go up a series of steps so that the physical therapist would release me, I would have to show a steady trend of blood pressure, (water) weight loss, heart rhythm and emotional stability (meaning show I wasn't suicidal or anything) for the cardiologist (who at this point was the big cheese amongst my doctors) would let me go. And so I went to work on what I could. By this time I could walk just fine, I would get tired but I tried not to show it and the physical therapist (who had visited me twice the previous day) had told me we would try some steps that day so I was excited to show how strong I was (I hoped I was anyways). I knew that all my heart related stats had been steady for at least the past 24 hours. I knew I wasn't suicidal, I was sad of course but not suicidal...who would go through all that work of avoiding death to do themselves in? Not me! So that left one task at hand...I had to have a vowel movement.
Since I had decided to get off medications my nurses kept asking me if I was in pain. I now have come to the conclusion that I didn't feel any pain because I was in a state of shock. However shock or not I was conscious enough to understand how big the c-section cut was, as very kindly demonstrated by every new nurse I met that would show me by spreading their hands about a foot apart and saying "it's this big you know!" so the thought of having to make any effort whatsoever to push anything out of my body was not a pretty thought for sure. I kept picturing my gash opening and my uterus plopping on the bathroom floor...I'm sure this did not help my restroom going efforts. On top of that I had the worst case of gas EVER! If you've ever had a c-section you know exactly what I'm talking about. In short, it was torture. It's definitely one thing I am not looking forward to! (Hmmm I wonder if they let you take beano before surgery?)
As the morning went on our family trailed in after breakfast, making sure I had eaten or not (which I honestly couldn't tell you if I did...I do remember the food tasting like cardboard tho!). I found out my beloved aunt (who's like another mom to me) had arrived the previous night. The nurses started threatening me with stool softeners which made me cringe at the thought. A nutritionist came to talk to me about my new low sodium, low fat, low cholesterol diet and the 2 liter liquid restriction I would go home on...2 liters of liquid in food, drinks, ice, everything! That's nothing to a big water drinker like me! The only things I really needed to become familiar with was the low sodium concept and the liquid restriction. Because I've had tendencies of high cholesterol all my life I've always been very careful about my diet. Shortly after lunch I took one of my many trips to the restroom (I was on diuretics so I still peed like I was 9 months pregnant) and the heavens opened up and I finally had the very needed vowel movement. The entire room rejoiced at the news. My best friend and husband who were the two angels that would help me to and from the restroom busted out of the restroom and began telling EVERY family member available that I had pooped...yay??? The nurses came in shortly after to celebrate with the family because that meant that I had met (or was expected to meet) all the criteria to be released!
As soon as the doctors found out I was ready to go home, the therapist showed up and took me for a walk. It was the last walk I would take down those halls (I hoped!). As I pushed the walker up and down the hall I noticed a nurse had that deer in headlights look, which made me look around to see what was wrong, immediately my mom and my aunt jumped in front of me like I was Britney Spears and they were my body guard, the whole rest of my family almost instantly took one unison breathe, and then I saw it, there was a new mom pushing her little pink bundle down the hall. I didn't know what to do. I was angry because I didn't have my pink bundle, but I was more angry that everyone I knew and loved thought I was too weak to handle seeing that. I noticed my therapists and nurses looked like they thought I was going to fall and then realized that I was sobbing hysterically. I was embarrassed, ashamed, and hurt. I know I wouldn't have reacted that way to that event if it would have just my and the therapists but because my family made such a grandstand of it all, it was almost like they were highlighting the event. Like they had put a very bright and annoying spotlight on the little bassinet. Once I noticed I was sobbing I gathered myself straightened up and told my best friend to get my family out of there, except for my husband. She did as I asked and sent them all out to the family waiting room. My mom of course didn't want to go she wanted to hold me and let me cry but I was ready to get out of there and didn't want to have to live thru this again so I sent her with the rest of the clan. I checked my posture and looked at my therapist and told him to continue. He told me that I didn't have to keep walking that we could just go back to the room I told him I didn't want to be there anymore and I needed him to release me so I could go home so I wanted to keep going. We continued for a few more steps and then he told me that he thought I was ready to go home that I just needed to take it easy and walk 5 minutes a day for the next week and then increase the time by 3-5 minutes a week depending on how I felt. And then I went back to my room, took a shower and got myself ready to face my family and convince the rest of my doctors to let me go home. I don't remember much about that early afternoon other that I knew there was a line of doctors at my door waiting to see me and have me sign the paperwork they needed for me to sign so I could be released, I remember having appointments set up and I remember my nurse explaining all the medications to my best friend and my husband. I remember saying goodbye to my mother in law and my sisters in law. And thanking them for helping J with all the house "cleaning." I remember my mom and my aunt scurrying around the room making sure I wouldn't leave anything and then it was time to go. My husband ran ahead to get the car, my mom, my aunt and my bff's mom fussing over all the stuff we had to take, my best friend being by my side and the nurse pushing my wheelchair out while all the nurses and staff kept telling me how amazed they were at my impossibly fast recovery. I remember when I got to the door there was an older lady with a cart full of baby-related congratulatory flowers, balloons, etc and my mom desperately trying to get my attention and me pretending like I didn't see it. I remember my husband nervously running around the car to open up the trunk and then to the side to meet me by the door. But what I remember most is having to hold back tears because I wasn't supposed to leave that hospital without my daughter. I remember glancing back at the spot where her carseat had been and my eyes burning with tears and then never wanting to look back. Once I was seated in the car with my seatbelt on my best friend came up to me gave me a big hug and told me she'd be in the car right behind me.
I remember looking at the frosty roads and wondering when it had snowed and then vaguely remembering my sisters being very excited about it. The trip home seemed very quick and surreal. My mom kept asking me if I was ok and I just kept nodding. She asked me what I wanted for lunch and I told her whatever. She asked if albondigas (mexican meatballs) sounded good and I told her that sounded delicious. She got all excited about me using a word other than yeah or whatever that she asked J to stop and the store for supplies and him calling my best friend and she volunteering to go instead. I recall there being a lot more steps to get to my apartment than I thought there were and having to take a small break half way up. My neighbors peeked out but didn't come out when they saw us return without a carseat in tow. I remember standing in my doorway and my house feeling unfamiliar. There had been a warmth before and now it was just cold and much more clean than I remember it. I sat in the couch and waited for my mom to cook dinner, I received more flowers this time from my loving internet friends and from one of J's aunts. I was sorting through mail and found more condolence cards. My husband began to show me all the equipment he had bought to make me feel more comfortable: a shower chair (which made me feel like an old person), a cute little duckie bath mat so I wouldn't slip (ok I'll admit it I'm incredibly clumsy so this was very needed), and an exercise step. I was utterly confused about the step then my hubby explained that he didn't think it safe to do my usual hop onto my bed (I'm only 5'1/2" so my bed was high for me) so he got me a step so I could safely sit on my bed instead. Quick side note, when we moved we got a new bed and my hubs insisted on a platform bed so I won't have to use the step next time...I know he's too wonderful! :) And so after dinner, I sat and chatted with my BFF and her mom for a while then I went to bed.
That night my husband and I felt drained. I remember telling him I didn't think I had any more tears. And we wondered how long it would take for my mom to go home. I told him not to hold his breathe and we both laughed it off. Overall I was happy to be back in our bed were we could sleep in each other's arms. However my hubby had a different plan. After I convinced him that it was not necessary for him to sleep on the floor so I could have the entire bed he decided to create a pillow barrier between us so he could not kick my belly. Poor guy must have gotten horrible sleep that night!
Those three days (or so I'm told they were three) seem like a giant blur now. I can guarantee you that the events are not in order and that I'm missing tons of stuff. But when you are in that situation it's almost like you are a stranger in your own body. Not only because you look like a popped Macy's Thanksgiving Parade balloon but because part of you doesn't want to exist anymore. They are the days I remember in chunks and even my husband doesn't remember very well. As a matter in fact it wasn't until I got the receipt from the hospital bill in the mail that I realized it had only been 3 days that I had spent in the hospital. To me they felt like a week and a half!
The two weeks following my hospital stay were a numb little routine filled with walking around the apartment, being fed my mom's delicious food, watching TV and receiving flowers and cards from my loved ones. My family came and went but my mom was the one constant visitor. The day after my best friend left my mom got to experience an Oklahoma ice storm that split the giant tree behind our apartment. She wanted to go play in the ice so badly but didn't want to burden my hubby with "two broken women" as she would put it. My hubby kept tabs on the funeral home to see when we would get our daughter back and I preoccupied myself with ordering my baby sister's Christmas gift since they were going to come for a visit for Christmas. Other than the occasional distraction I just existed.
to be continued...
December 5th was a bittersweet day for me. In a small span of 2.5 days I have managed to not only survive congestive heart failure but get out of ICU and if I could convince my doctors that I was stable enough I would get of the hospital all together-which didn't mean freedom but it would be close enough for now. At 7:30 am the blood pressure lady came in and took my vitals, then the nurses came in with my cocktail of meds (I was at the time taking 14 different pills). I asked the nurse what it would take for them to let me go she said that I had to have a valve movement so that the OB would release me, I would have to walk and go up a series of steps so that the physical therapist would release me, I would have to show a steady trend of blood pressure, (water) weight loss, heart rhythm and emotional stability (meaning show I wasn't suicidal or anything) for the cardiologist (who at this point was the big cheese amongst my doctors) would let me go. And so I went to work on what I could. By this time I could walk just fine, I would get tired but I tried not to show it and the physical therapist (who had visited me twice the previous day) had told me we would try some steps that day so I was excited to show how strong I was (I hoped I was anyways). I knew that all my heart related stats had been steady for at least the past 24 hours. I knew I wasn't suicidal, I was sad of course but not suicidal...who would go through all that work of avoiding death to do themselves in? Not me! So that left one task at hand...I had to have a vowel movement.
Since I had decided to get off medications my nurses kept asking me if I was in pain. I now have come to the conclusion that I didn't feel any pain because I was in a state of shock. However shock or not I was conscious enough to understand how big the c-section cut was, as very kindly demonstrated by every new nurse I met that would show me by spreading their hands about a foot apart and saying "it's this big you know!" so the thought of having to make any effort whatsoever to push anything out of my body was not a pretty thought for sure. I kept picturing my gash opening and my uterus plopping on the bathroom floor...I'm sure this did not help my restroom going efforts. On top of that I had the worst case of gas EVER! If you've ever had a c-section you know exactly what I'm talking about. In short, it was torture. It's definitely one thing I am not looking forward to! (Hmmm I wonder if they let you take beano before surgery?)
As the morning went on our family trailed in after breakfast, making sure I had eaten or not (which I honestly couldn't tell you if I did...I do remember the food tasting like cardboard tho!). I found out my beloved aunt (who's like another mom to me) had arrived the previous night. The nurses started threatening me with stool softeners which made me cringe at the thought. A nutritionist came to talk to me about my new low sodium, low fat, low cholesterol diet and the 2 liter liquid restriction I would go home on...2 liters of liquid in food, drinks, ice, everything! That's nothing to a big water drinker like me! The only things I really needed to become familiar with was the low sodium concept and the liquid restriction. Because I've had tendencies of high cholesterol all my life I've always been very careful about my diet. Shortly after lunch I took one of my many trips to the restroom (I was on diuretics so I still peed like I was 9 months pregnant) and the heavens opened up and I finally had the very needed vowel movement. The entire room rejoiced at the news. My best friend and husband who were the two angels that would help me to and from the restroom busted out of the restroom and began telling EVERY family member available that I had pooped...yay??? The nurses came in shortly after to celebrate with the family because that meant that I had met (or was expected to meet) all the criteria to be released!
As soon as the doctors found out I was ready to go home, the therapist showed up and took me for a walk. It was the last walk I would take down those halls (I hoped!). As I pushed the walker up and down the hall I noticed a nurse had that deer in headlights look, which made me look around to see what was wrong, immediately my mom and my aunt jumped in front of me like I was Britney Spears and they were my body guard, the whole rest of my family almost instantly took one unison breathe, and then I saw it, there was a new mom pushing her little pink bundle down the hall. I didn't know what to do. I was angry because I didn't have my pink bundle, but I was more angry that everyone I knew and loved thought I was too weak to handle seeing that. I noticed my therapists and nurses looked like they thought I was going to fall and then realized that I was sobbing hysterically. I was embarrassed, ashamed, and hurt. I know I wouldn't have reacted that way to that event if it would have just my and the therapists but because my family made such a grandstand of it all, it was almost like they were highlighting the event. Like they had put a very bright and annoying spotlight on the little bassinet. Once I noticed I was sobbing I gathered myself straightened up and told my best friend to get my family out of there, except for my husband. She did as I asked and sent them all out to the family waiting room. My mom of course didn't want to go she wanted to hold me and let me cry but I was ready to get out of there and didn't want to have to live thru this again so I sent her with the rest of the clan. I checked my posture and looked at my therapist and told him to continue. He told me that I didn't have to keep walking that we could just go back to the room I told him I didn't want to be there anymore and I needed him to release me so I could go home so I wanted to keep going. We continued for a few more steps and then he told me that he thought I was ready to go home that I just needed to take it easy and walk 5 minutes a day for the next week and then increase the time by 3-5 minutes a week depending on how I felt. And then I went back to my room, took a shower and got myself ready to face my family and convince the rest of my doctors to let me go home. I don't remember much about that early afternoon other that I knew there was a line of doctors at my door waiting to see me and have me sign the paperwork they needed for me to sign so I could be released, I remember having appointments set up and I remember my nurse explaining all the medications to my best friend and my husband. I remember saying goodbye to my mother in law and my sisters in law. And thanking them for helping J with all the house "cleaning." I remember my mom and my aunt scurrying around the room making sure I wouldn't leave anything and then it was time to go. My husband ran ahead to get the car, my mom, my aunt and my bff's mom fussing over all the stuff we had to take, my best friend being by my side and the nurse pushing my wheelchair out while all the nurses and staff kept telling me how amazed they were at my impossibly fast recovery. I remember when I got to the door there was an older lady with a cart full of baby-related congratulatory flowers, balloons, etc and my mom desperately trying to get my attention and me pretending like I didn't see it. I remember my husband nervously running around the car to open up the trunk and then to the side to meet me by the door. But what I remember most is having to hold back tears because I wasn't supposed to leave that hospital without my daughter. I remember glancing back at the spot where her carseat had been and my eyes burning with tears and then never wanting to look back. Once I was seated in the car with my seatbelt on my best friend came up to me gave me a big hug and told me she'd be in the car right behind me.
I remember looking at the frosty roads and wondering when it had snowed and then vaguely remembering my sisters being very excited about it. The trip home seemed very quick and surreal. My mom kept asking me if I was ok and I just kept nodding. She asked me what I wanted for lunch and I told her whatever. She asked if albondigas (mexican meatballs) sounded good and I told her that sounded delicious. She got all excited about me using a word other than yeah or whatever that she asked J to stop and the store for supplies and him calling my best friend and she volunteering to go instead. I recall there being a lot more steps to get to my apartment than I thought there were and having to take a small break half way up. My neighbors peeked out but didn't come out when they saw us return without a carseat in tow. I remember standing in my doorway and my house feeling unfamiliar. There had been a warmth before and now it was just cold and much more clean than I remember it. I sat in the couch and waited for my mom to cook dinner, I received more flowers this time from my loving internet friends and from one of J's aunts. I was sorting through mail and found more condolence cards. My husband began to show me all the equipment he had bought to make me feel more comfortable: a shower chair (which made me feel like an old person), a cute little duckie bath mat so I wouldn't slip (ok I'll admit it I'm incredibly clumsy so this was very needed), and an exercise step. I was utterly confused about the step then my hubby explained that he didn't think it safe to do my usual hop onto my bed (I'm only 5'1/2" so my bed was high for me) so he got me a step so I could safely sit on my bed instead. Quick side note, when we moved we got a new bed and my hubs insisted on a platform bed so I won't have to use the step next time...I know he's too wonderful! :) And so after dinner, I sat and chatted with my BFF and her mom for a while then I went to bed.
That night my husband and I felt drained. I remember telling him I didn't think I had any more tears. And we wondered how long it would take for my mom to go home. I told him not to hold his breathe and we both laughed it off. Overall I was happy to be back in our bed were we could sleep in each other's arms. However my hubby had a different plan. After I convinced him that it was not necessary for him to sleep on the floor so I could have the entire bed he decided to create a pillow barrier between us so he could not kick my belly. Poor guy must have gotten horrible sleep that night!
Those three days (or so I'm told they were three) seem like a giant blur now. I can guarantee you that the events are not in order and that I'm missing tons of stuff. But when you are in that situation it's almost like you are a stranger in your own body. Not only because you look like a popped Macy's Thanksgiving Parade balloon but because part of you doesn't want to exist anymore. They are the days I remember in chunks and even my husband doesn't remember very well. As a matter in fact it wasn't until I got the receipt from the hospital bill in the mail that I realized it had only been 3 days that I had spent in the hospital. To me they felt like a week and a half!
The two weeks following my hospital stay were a numb little routine filled with walking around the apartment, being fed my mom's delicious food, watching TV and receiving flowers and cards from my loved ones. My family came and went but my mom was the one constant visitor. The day after my best friend left my mom got to experience an Oklahoma ice storm that split the giant tree behind our apartment. She wanted to go play in the ice so badly but didn't want to burden my hubby with "two broken women" as she would put it. My hubby kept tabs on the funeral home to see when we would get our daughter back and I preoccupied myself with ordering my baby sister's Christmas gift since they were going to come for a visit for Christmas. Other than the occasional distraction I just existed.
to be continued...
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Heads up!
Just so you readers know...the first few posts are real downers they are all about the first few days in the hospital and me dealing with my daughter's loss...but it gets happier, I promise :). Like with life we must first get through the rough parts in life to appreciate the beauty and happiness that life has to offer. So hang in there!
What does it take...part 2
December 4, 2007
After a long night of constant interruption and multiple IV changes (my veins were D-O-N-E) I woke up feeling much better than the previous day, for starters I didn't have a tube stuck down my throat, I was able to talk and I could sit up...YAY! However, my arms were killing me! I hadn't noticed until then that my poor little arms were four times their normal size and nowhere near their normal color. They were a mix of black and purple with little bits of blue here and there and it hurt to look at them much less move or touch them. But I figured that was the last of my worries just now. My mom had spent all night next to my bed on a little recliner chair,much to my hubby's protest he was sent to his mom's hotel room to get some sleep. It was 5:30am and everything was quiet, my mom was passed out and I was left there to reflect on what had happened and why I was there. I blamed myself naturally (what mother doesn't!) but now I know that I was wrong then. Life has ups and downs and the lower the downs the higher the ups will feel...or so has been my experience. Not wanting to wallow in self pity I decided my time was better spent sleeping my body ached and it needed rest.
A couple of hours later I heard my mom talking with one of the nurses and I also heard the one voice that I would bother to wake up for...my hubs. He looked better than the previous day but his face was still puffy, which told me two things 1.-he had spent time alone, because that's the only way he ever cries and 2.-he hadn't gotten as much sleep as I wished he had. He had a perma-frown on his face that I had not seen since my brother had passed of cancer five years earlier. He wasn't my happy care-free hubby that I knew and loved. A funny thing happened when he saw me tho, his eyes immediately came alive and a strained smile touched his face. You know one of those smiles that are meant to tell you "I'm ok" but you know isn't genuine because it doesn't touch the person's eyes? He approached my bed and gave me a kiss that said "thank God you're still alive!" I don't know what he'd pictured he'd come back to but he seemed relieved so that was good. I asked the nurse when they would take me out of ICU and he laughed and said to not get my hopes up, the entire hospital thought that I was a goner...fun! He told me that I would be evaluated by a physical therapist that day and that I would also get a visit from an occupational therapist. Up to this point I had no idea what the difference between the two was. While we waited for the PT and OTs to show up my mom left to shower to my mother-in-law's room (the hospital had a hotel so they stayed there), my dad and father in law got ready to go back home before the ice storm hit, and my hubby kept me company and updated me on all the people he had talked to. I found out my best friend was on her way to see me. My best friend was at the time a post trauma ICU nurse (now she does just trauma) so as soon as she heard the words "heart failure," "intubated," and "ICU" (from what she tells me that's all she heard) she hoped on a plane to San Antonio (home), picked her mom up and drove to Oklahoma (some 8 hours). Am I loved or what?!? ;D
When the physical therapist got there he asked me how I was feeling, I told him that I felt like I got hit by a bus other than that just fine :) then he told me that they wouldn't let me out of the ICU until they could see that I was strong enough to stand to which I replied "heck, let's do laps!" He chuckled and told me we would try walking 3 feet to the recliner first so that the nurses could make my bed. Then he told me I had to walk very carefully because I had a rather large c-section cut to take care of (gulp!) and I had a catheter in(double gulp!!...hmmm no wonder I hadn't had to use the restroom!). So carefully, I got up...mostly by myself and with a walker I walked to the recliner and sat down. At that point the occupational therapists asked me if I would like to wash my face and brush my teeth. I couldn't remember the last time I did that and I immediately though "OMG!!! What do I look like!" so I told her yes please and she went and got me cool water to rinse my mouth with and warm water to wash my face. My hubby got me a brush from my overnight bag and I brushed my too tangled hair and one of my sister in laws gave me a lipgloss she had bought me...God bless her!!! Once I felt ten times prettier than I had been feeling I got up (by myself this time) and walked over to the bed, I didn't want to lay down but I could feel my body weakening and was relieved when they told me I had to lay back down.
Once the therapists left my cardiologists nurse practitioner came in to introduce herself and see how I was doing and I thanked God that I had just gotten pretty because this was my chance to bust out of ICU! So I told her I felt great with a fake smile plastered on my face and told her that I really wanted to get out of ICU and into a normal room I didn't care if I went to the post-partum unit or the cardiology unit I just wanted out of the too much beeping, never sleeping, not in anyway private ICU. She said that she would consult my OB and cardiologist and let the nurses know if they can put me elsewhere as soon as she could to which I insisted..."today...please!"
And so I was left there waiting for someone to bust me out of ICU. Meanwhile my mother in law asked if she could go to my house to "clean up" (translation, clear out everything that is baby related and lock it in a room where I won't have to face it when I came home...if I came home) I told her that she would have to take my husband and I didn't feel comfortable with him leaving until I was out of ICU so then she asked what I needed from the store because she needed to make herself useful somehow so I told her I needed really tight sport bras from my swelling boobs, lipgloss, hair ties, and food for my hubs. She left happy that she had a task and I was left to wait. Luckily I didn't have to wait too long. Shortly after the nurse came in to tell me I would be moving to the post-partum surgical unit in a couple of hours. Just as my mother in law and sisters came back the ICU nurses came in to say goodbye and to transfer me to my new home. They kept telling me how when I came in they were sure that I would be there for weeks and here I was a little over 24 hours later leaving their unit to which I replied "it's cause I'm cool like that" the truth was and is that it was a miracle that I was even there much less leaving ICU after 24 hours of having arrived there. They told me that as soon as I got to my new room the nurses would introduce themselves and I would get lunch. I can't honestly say that the thought of sharing a wing with a whole bunch of women that were happy and healthy playing with their brand new babies was a welcome thought but it was a better alternative than sharing a wing with a whole bunch of people that were near death. The trip to the new room was filled with anxiety for me because it kept reminding me of the last time I had been rolled somewhere and it was shocking to feel my lungs working the way they are meant to be this time, not feeling like I was going to drown (or barf) right there and then and just being able to feel. The first time I had been rolled somewhere was when I was being transferred to the operating room and I just remember the rooms flying past me and me feeling like I was still within chaos and being unable to understand that everything that was going on was real. And here I was a day and half later completely aware of everything that was going on around me...a little too aware.
The post-partum unit was no picnic for anyone in my family but then again I didn't expect it to be. Just as we were getting settled in my hubby got a phone call from my best friend saying that she was there and asking for directions to the hospital. After a few minutes she came flying in the room with mom (hers not mine). She gave me a quick hug and launched straight into nurse mode. She grabbed my chart and headed for the nurses station. After 20 minutes or so she came back in and briefed us on what exactly happened. Well it was her lucky day because she arrived just in time to talk to all my doctors. This was the first day that I actually remember seeing my OB after everything happened and through sobs she explained to me that I had (magically) gotten a "sudden" onset of preeclamsia which might have been what triggered the heart failure and that my official diagnosis was of peripartum cardiomyopathy (PPCM) and that she was REALLY sorry for our loss...this wasn't the first time or the last time I would hear this from her. To be honest, by this time a strange and comforting numbness had set in and I would not and could not cry in front of my family. So as my OB sobbed and apologized I just stared blankly at her and couldn't bring myself to ask questions.
After all the doctors came and went one of my sister in laws asked if there was any way that they could see my daughter. Then I suddenly realized that I hadn't gotten to see her and understand what I was seeing because last time we met I had been on a skyscraper high that would make most potheads jealous. So I asked the nurse to bring us my daughter and asked my mother in law to bring me my daughter when they were done with her. My mom protested because she thought it would be too painful to see my daughter at which point she met hormones Martha (she's not nice) the thought that seeing my daughter would in any way hurt me I still don't understand. She was the perfect being as far as I'm concerned. So after some firm talking I got my wish and got to see my baby again.
Michelle was the perfect combination of the one person I love the most in my life (other than my child) and me...how could she not be perfect! She was exactly the opposite of what I pictured. She had my hubby's itty bitty eyes and one eyebrow (eek!), she had a perfect little head with tons of little dark curls, little elven ears with no earlobes just like her daddy, a little round nose and a complete lack of lips just like me. She had long, "alien" fingers and toes that were too long just like my brothers...how did they get their genes into my daughter? I thought. Because she had been dead for a while in utero her skin had little lacerations that I knew didn't hurt her but I couldn't help but wonder if she suffered and sent a little prayer that she didn't up to God. Other than the lacerations she looked like she was sleeping until you touched her cold little body. This time she had the cutest little dress on and a little hat that was too small for her Garza (my side) head but it was all the better because her little curls peaked out of the cap.
While everyone spent time with my Michelle in another room I sat on my bed with my best friend on one side and my husband on the other and together for the first time since our entire clan had arrived we cried. It was impossible to justify such a wanted child having been gone before everyone got to enjoy the feisty personality that my husband and I already knew and loved. And yet here we were Michelle-less.
That evening was tough. My husband had to leave with his mom and sisters to "clean out" the apartment and remove the car seat we had just put in the car a couple of days before.
While he was gone flowers and cards flooded my hospital room from his coworkers and family. I convinced the nurse to take out my IV and promised to take ANYTHING I had to take. She cleared it with my doctors and removed it and also removed my catheter. OK, so if you've never had a cath...um scary!!! But not very painful, I just kept thinking "what if I pee myself as soon as she pulls it out?!?" she assured me that I wouldn't pee myself (much) and that if I did there was a pad under me...yeah that made me feel better (sarcasm is a hard thing to project in text). My best friend promised to stay by my side through it and couldn't help but laugh at me during the removal which caused me to laugh for the first time in what felt like years! Then my best friend suggested I take a shower and that she would help me (she was still in nurse mode afterall!) so we asked for a new gown and told them that I would be taking off my heart monitor for a little while. And I took the best shower I have ever had! Or maybe it was the most needed, either way I came out of that shower feeling like another person and feeling incredibly grateful that I have such a wonderful person as my BFF that she would fly to the middle of nowhere just to take care of me.
When J (my hubs) came back the hospital's social worker came in to talk about the arrangements we needed to make for our daughter. We decided that we would not be able to survive any sort of service so we opted for the priest to bless her one more time before she went off to the funeral home to get cremated. Because someone had suggested it, my husband had already talked to a funeral home and had the information to give the social worker. We gave her all the information that she needed for Michelle's stillbirth certificate (or whatever they call it) and she told us what to expect once we were released from the hospital.
Then my husband and I were left to rest and grieve on our own. We discussed what kind of urn we wanted for Michelle and gossiped about how much our family was already getting on our nerves lol. We laid there for what seemed like hours holding each other and crying stopping only for the lady that had to take my weight and blood pressure several times during the night. Finally we decided that it was time to go to sleep. My husband was going to sleep on this sofa turned cot that he pushed right up to my bed so we could hold hands while we slept and we let our exhaustion take over us until we'd be awaken by the blood pressure lady (as we called her). The following day I would work on busting out of the hospital for good.
to be continued....
After a long night of constant interruption and multiple IV changes (my veins were D-O-N-E) I woke up feeling much better than the previous day, for starters I didn't have a tube stuck down my throat, I was able to talk and I could sit up...YAY! However, my arms were killing me! I hadn't noticed until then that my poor little arms were four times their normal size and nowhere near their normal color. They were a mix of black and purple with little bits of blue here and there and it hurt to look at them much less move or touch them. But I figured that was the last of my worries just now. My mom had spent all night next to my bed on a little recliner chair,much to my hubby's protest he was sent to his mom's hotel room to get some sleep. It was 5:30am and everything was quiet, my mom was passed out and I was left there to reflect on what had happened and why I was there. I blamed myself naturally (what mother doesn't!) but now I know that I was wrong then. Life has ups and downs and the lower the downs the higher the ups will feel...or so has been my experience. Not wanting to wallow in self pity I decided my time was better spent sleeping my body ached and it needed rest.
A couple of hours later I heard my mom talking with one of the nurses and I also heard the one voice that I would bother to wake up for...my hubs. He looked better than the previous day but his face was still puffy, which told me two things 1.-he had spent time alone, because that's the only way he ever cries and 2.-he hadn't gotten as much sleep as I wished he had. He had a perma-frown on his face that I had not seen since my brother had passed of cancer five years earlier. He wasn't my happy care-free hubby that I knew and loved. A funny thing happened when he saw me tho, his eyes immediately came alive and a strained smile touched his face. You know one of those smiles that are meant to tell you "I'm ok" but you know isn't genuine because it doesn't touch the person's eyes? He approached my bed and gave me a kiss that said "thank God you're still alive!" I don't know what he'd pictured he'd come back to but he seemed relieved so that was good. I asked the nurse when they would take me out of ICU and he laughed and said to not get my hopes up, the entire hospital thought that I was a goner...fun! He told me that I would be evaluated by a physical therapist that day and that I would also get a visit from an occupational therapist. Up to this point I had no idea what the difference between the two was. While we waited for the PT and OTs to show up my mom left to shower to my mother-in-law's room (the hospital had a hotel so they stayed there), my dad and father in law got ready to go back home before the ice storm hit, and my hubby kept me company and updated me on all the people he had talked to. I found out my best friend was on her way to see me. My best friend was at the time a post trauma ICU nurse (now she does just trauma) so as soon as she heard the words "heart failure," "intubated," and "ICU" (from what she tells me that's all she heard) she hoped on a plane to San Antonio (home), picked her mom up and drove to Oklahoma (some 8 hours). Am I loved or what?!? ;D
When the physical therapist got there he asked me how I was feeling, I told him that I felt like I got hit by a bus other than that just fine :) then he told me that they wouldn't let me out of the ICU until they could see that I was strong enough to stand to which I replied "heck, let's do laps!" He chuckled and told me we would try walking 3 feet to the recliner first so that the nurses could make my bed. Then he told me I had to walk very carefully because I had a rather large c-section cut to take care of (gulp!) and I had a catheter in(double gulp!!...hmmm no wonder I hadn't had to use the restroom!). So carefully, I got up...mostly by myself and with a walker I walked to the recliner and sat down. At that point the occupational therapists asked me if I would like to wash my face and brush my teeth. I couldn't remember the last time I did that and I immediately though "OMG!!! What do I look like!" so I told her yes please and she went and got me cool water to rinse my mouth with and warm water to wash my face. My hubby got me a brush from my overnight bag and I brushed my too tangled hair and one of my sister in laws gave me a lipgloss she had bought me...God bless her!!! Once I felt ten times prettier than I had been feeling I got up (by myself this time) and walked over to the bed, I didn't want to lay down but I could feel my body weakening and was relieved when they told me I had to lay back down.
Once the therapists left my cardiologists nurse practitioner came in to introduce herself and see how I was doing and I thanked God that I had just gotten pretty because this was my chance to bust out of ICU! So I told her I felt great with a fake smile plastered on my face and told her that I really wanted to get out of ICU and into a normal room I didn't care if I went to the post-partum unit or the cardiology unit I just wanted out of the too much beeping, never sleeping, not in anyway private ICU. She said that she would consult my OB and cardiologist and let the nurses know if they can put me elsewhere as soon as she could to which I insisted..."today...please!"
And so I was left there waiting for someone to bust me out of ICU. Meanwhile my mother in law asked if she could go to my house to "clean up" (translation, clear out everything that is baby related and lock it in a room where I won't have to face it when I came home...if I came home) I told her that she would have to take my husband and I didn't feel comfortable with him leaving until I was out of ICU so then she asked what I needed from the store because she needed to make herself useful somehow so I told her I needed really tight sport bras from my swelling boobs, lipgloss, hair ties, and food for my hubs. She left happy that she had a task and I was left to wait. Luckily I didn't have to wait too long. Shortly after the nurse came in to tell me I would be moving to the post-partum surgical unit in a couple of hours. Just as my mother in law and sisters came back the ICU nurses came in to say goodbye and to transfer me to my new home. They kept telling me how when I came in they were sure that I would be there for weeks and here I was a little over 24 hours later leaving their unit to which I replied "it's cause I'm cool like that" the truth was and is that it was a miracle that I was even there much less leaving ICU after 24 hours of having arrived there. They told me that as soon as I got to my new room the nurses would introduce themselves and I would get lunch. I can't honestly say that the thought of sharing a wing with a whole bunch of women that were happy and healthy playing with their brand new babies was a welcome thought but it was a better alternative than sharing a wing with a whole bunch of people that were near death. The trip to the new room was filled with anxiety for me because it kept reminding me of the last time I had been rolled somewhere and it was shocking to feel my lungs working the way they are meant to be this time, not feeling like I was going to drown (or barf) right there and then and just being able to feel. The first time I had been rolled somewhere was when I was being transferred to the operating room and I just remember the rooms flying past me and me feeling like I was still within chaos and being unable to understand that everything that was going on was real. And here I was a day and half later completely aware of everything that was going on around me...a little too aware.
The post-partum unit was no picnic for anyone in my family but then again I didn't expect it to be. Just as we were getting settled in my hubby got a phone call from my best friend saying that she was there and asking for directions to the hospital. After a few minutes she came flying in the room with mom (hers not mine). She gave me a quick hug and launched straight into nurse mode. She grabbed my chart and headed for the nurses station. After 20 minutes or so she came back in and briefed us on what exactly happened. Well it was her lucky day because she arrived just in time to talk to all my doctors. This was the first day that I actually remember seeing my OB after everything happened and through sobs she explained to me that I had (magically) gotten a "sudden" onset of preeclamsia which might have been what triggered the heart failure and that my official diagnosis was of peripartum cardiomyopathy (PPCM) and that she was REALLY sorry for our loss...this wasn't the first time or the last time I would hear this from her. To be honest, by this time a strange and comforting numbness had set in and I would not and could not cry in front of my family. So as my OB sobbed and apologized I just stared blankly at her and couldn't bring myself to ask questions.
After all the doctors came and went one of my sister in laws asked if there was any way that they could see my daughter. Then I suddenly realized that I hadn't gotten to see her and understand what I was seeing because last time we met I had been on a skyscraper high that would make most potheads jealous. So I asked the nurse to bring us my daughter and asked my mother in law to bring me my daughter when they were done with her. My mom protested because she thought it would be too painful to see my daughter at which point she met hormones Martha (she's not nice) the thought that seeing my daughter would in any way hurt me I still don't understand. She was the perfect being as far as I'm concerned. So after some firm talking I got my wish and got to see my baby again.
Michelle was the perfect combination of the one person I love the most in my life (other than my child) and me...how could she not be perfect! She was exactly the opposite of what I pictured. She had my hubby's itty bitty eyes and one eyebrow (eek!), she had a perfect little head with tons of little dark curls, little elven ears with no earlobes just like her daddy, a little round nose and a complete lack of lips just like me. She had long, "alien" fingers and toes that were too long just like my brothers...how did they get their genes into my daughter? I thought. Because she had been dead for a while in utero her skin had little lacerations that I knew didn't hurt her but I couldn't help but wonder if she suffered and sent a little prayer that she didn't up to God. Other than the lacerations she looked like she was sleeping until you touched her cold little body. This time she had the cutest little dress on and a little hat that was too small for her Garza (my side) head but it was all the better because her little curls peaked out of the cap.
While everyone spent time with my Michelle in another room I sat on my bed with my best friend on one side and my husband on the other and together for the first time since our entire clan had arrived we cried. It was impossible to justify such a wanted child having been gone before everyone got to enjoy the feisty personality that my husband and I already knew and loved. And yet here we were Michelle-less.
That evening was tough. My husband had to leave with his mom and sisters to "clean out" the apartment and remove the car seat we had just put in the car a couple of days before.
While he was gone flowers and cards flooded my hospital room from his coworkers and family. I convinced the nurse to take out my IV and promised to take ANYTHING I had to take. She cleared it with my doctors and removed it and also removed my catheter. OK, so if you've never had a cath...um scary!!! But not very painful, I just kept thinking "what if I pee myself as soon as she pulls it out?!?" she assured me that I wouldn't pee myself (much) and that if I did there was a pad under me...yeah that made me feel better (sarcasm is a hard thing to project in text). My best friend promised to stay by my side through it and couldn't help but laugh at me during the removal which caused me to laugh for the first time in what felt like years! Then my best friend suggested I take a shower and that she would help me (she was still in nurse mode afterall!) so we asked for a new gown and told them that I would be taking off my heart monitor for a little while. And I took the best shower I have ever had! Or maybe it was the most needed, either way I came out of that shower feeling like another person and feeling incredibly grateful that I have such a wonderful person as my BFF that she would fly to the middle of nowhere just to take care of me.
When J (my hubs) came back the hospital's social worker came in to talk about the arrangements we needed to make for our daughter. We decided that we would not be able to survive any sort of service so we opted for the priest to bless her one more time before she went off to the funeral home to get cremated. Because someone had suggested it, my husband had already talked to a funeral home and had the information to give the social worker. We gave her all the information that she needed for Michelle's stillbirth certificate (or whatever they call it) and she told us what to expect once we were released from the hospital.
Then my husband and I were left to rest and grieve on our own. We discussed what kind of urn we wanted for Michelle and gossiped about how much our family was already getting on our nerves lol. We laid there for what seemed like hours holding each other and crying stopping only for the lady that had to take my weight and blood pressure several times during the night. Finally we decided that it was time to go to sleep. My husband was going to sleep on this sofa turned cot that he pushed right up to my bed so we could hold hands while we slept and we let our exhaustion take over us until we'd be awaken by the blood pressure lady (as we called her). The following day I would work on busting out of the hospital for good.
to be continued....
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)