Isaac's Story, Part 3 of 4

This post contains material which may be objectionable to some readers.

The day after we came home from the hospital was the 4^th of July. Daniel had wanted to see the fireworks, but I was still healing and exhausted so we stayed home. The apartment we lived in was by a large park by the river, and we were fortunate that there was a firework display going on down there, so we were able to see some fireworks above the trees from our dining room window. I watched a couple go off and went to bed while Dan stayed up to watch a little longer.

Daniel quickly returned to work and I was left home with our newborn. I was terrified. It also became difficult because Isaac developed colic. He would scream all day and pass out at night, only allowing me to wake him long enough to eat. Under the doctor’s orders I was to wake Isaac up every two hours to eat. I was still trying to nurse him, and had been given some of the nursing tools from the hospital as well as a borrowed pump.

The nighttime feeding routine went something like this: I would set my alarm to go off every 2 hours. I would get up. We had Isaac in a bassinet in our room, so I’d wheel him into his nursery where my rocker was set up. I would have to continually tickle and rub the bottom of his feet to try to keep him awake long enough to eat. I would attempt to nurse him, always having to end with a bottle of pumped milk or formula. I would make sure he was in a clean diaper and then put him back in our room. Then I would use the breast pump. By the time I was able to crawl back into bed, I had about 20 minutes left to sleep before I had to wake up and repeat the whole process.

I was exhausted, and I mean real, true exhaustion of the body and mind. I also cried all the time. I felt like a failure as a mother and a woman that I couldn’t nurse my son. One evening my mom stopped by, and I was in the nursery sitting in my rocker crying. My mom came and sat down on the floor and talked to me. At some point in our conversation I apologized to her for every terrible and difficult thing I had ever put her through. I didn’t know motherhood was going to be so hard. By the end of our conversation I also knew I needed to talk to my doctor.

When Isaac was a week and a half old, I had my appointment with Kate. Two things happened at that time.

First, I had told her how I was still extremely sore, and when she examined me she found that not all of my bag of waters (amniotic sac) had come out at Isaac’s birth. Using a tool, she reached in and peeled off the pieces she could see. It hurt so bad. She then set up an appointment for me to have an ultrasound to make sure all the pieces were gone.

The second thing was I described to her how I was feeling and the extreme exhaustion I had. I was diagnosed with postpartum depression and put on a medication. This meant I had to stop nursing Isaac, but I had to do this for my health. While the medicine was kicking in, I was directed to have someone help me with Isaac for the first week or two. Kate also directed me to get a full night’s sleep, meaning that Daniel would be in charge of feedings and changes for that night. When we left I felt better knowing we were taking actions to try to make things better.

That night Daniel did all the feedings and changes, but I still woke up every time Isaac cried and I often had to push Daniel awake so he could get up with him. After one middle-of-the-night feeding Dan came stumbling back to bed and said the sweetest words a husband can ever say to his wife: “Heather, I don’t know how you do it”. He doesn’t remember saying that, but I hold those words close to my heart.

The ladies at church were wonderful and had been bringing meals over, and now they began allowing me to spend a few hours in their homes while I received help with Isaac and I rested. It was an embarrassing situation for me, but I did it because I knew I needed the help and most of the women were very nice and understanding. Only one of the women told me I shouldn’t go on medication. She believed no one needed to be on medication, and that I would be fine with herbal supplements. She also told me my doctor’s orders to wake Isaac every two hours to eat was ridiculous because her two teenage children had always let her know when they needed to eat. She didn’t know our medical history or needs. She and I both worked in the Young Women’s program, she as a teacher and me in the Presidency, and she expressed frustration to me about when I was going to be returning to church. I had a difficult time being with this Sister, but I tried to suck it up because she was the most available to help me and I needed that help.

Eventually the medication kicked in and I found that I felt a little better. With Isaac being bottle fed, I was able to get a little more sleep and this also allowed him to receive more nutrition because he continued to have poor sucking reflexes and by using a bottle he didn’t have to work as hard to eat.

About this time I developed mastitis and had to be put on an antibiotic. I never imagined that kind of pain before. I also had my ultrasound appointment. Since this wasn’t an average ultrasound, this one had to be done vaginally. Daniel and Isaac were with me, and they also had a female nurse in the room as well. It hurt so bad because I still wasn’t healed. Mercifully it was a fairly quick procedure and we found that no more pieces of the sac remained behind, to my eternal relief. The idea of undergoing surgery was extremely unpleasant to me.

We took Isaac to the same doctor my sister had taken my niece to. She was good enough in the beginning. Isaac was circumcised there at the doctor’s office. I chose not to be in the same room because I couldn’t bear to hear my baby’s cries. At two weeks old Isaac developed a red birth mark on the middle of his bottom lip. I thought it was cute. The doctor told me that if I wanted to, they could surgically remove it later on. I looked at her like she was crazy. I guess some people are sensitive about birthmarks, but there was no way I was letting them touch my son.

Isaac's strawberry birthmark on his lower lip.

Our first wedding anniversary photo, complete with screaming baby.

On July 19^th Daniel and I celebrated our very first wedding anniversary. We wanted to go to the temple to celebrate, so my mom watched Isaac for us. The trip up to the Portland temple is only about a 45 minute drive from Salem. We were about half way up when we received a call from my mom asking us to come back. She could not get Isaac to stop crying.

Frozen 1 year wedding cake is really gross.

Isaac’s colic continued in full force and lasted the entire first three months of his life. He would cry and scream all day and only not scream at night, from exhaustion I’m sure. We tried everything for relief. We were on WIC, and with a doctor’s prescription we were able to put him on a special (and expensive!) formula called Alimentum. We tried gas drops. We tried infant Tylenol. We tried lavender bath wash and lotion. We also did infant massage. There was no relief. One time my mom came over to visit me. Our complex was set on a sloping hill, and our apartment was in the middle of the incline. Visitor parking was down at the bottom of the hill. My mom could hear Isaac’s cries all the way down to where she had parked. I felt terrible for our neighbors, especially when once our downstairs neighbor commented on the noise, but there was nothing we could do. Most infants with colic don’t have it for longer than three months, and I believe that is by God’s design for the continuation of our species. No one would wish colic on their worst enemy.

Isaac spent a lot of time in the vibrator chair because it was the only thing that came close to soothing him.

Isaac was blessed the first Sunday in August. That was a special day with family and friends. His little white romper suit was huge on him!

Isaac's blessing day.

My sister called about this time and wanted me to start doing free childcare for my niece, who was about three years old. My sister didn’t know about what I had been through or what I was continuing to go through, so I told her I didn’t think I could do it because I was so tired. She became really nasty and basically chewed me out for being “tired” and not wanting to help her out when she needed it. I still didn’t want to do it, but in the end I did because my sister was a single mom going through a lot of things and I knew my niece needed a good solid place to go to for childcare. I loved my sister and my niece, it’s just that I didn’t know if I could handle one more thing on top of what I was already dealing with.

Isaac and Bailey

Isaac’s colic did ease once he reached three months old. I will be forever grateful for that, because we were not to know that we would only have three months to really enjoy having a baby. Between the ages of 3 – 6 months old, Isaac seemed like any other typical baby. He was a fairly happy baby. He still didn’t sleep well through the night, so we still dealt with normal parent exhaustion. Once I woke in the morning to find that at some time in the night I had put our gallon of milk in the kitchen cupboard instead of the fridge. I don’t know when I did it, but it was still cold so I put it back in the fridge. And of course falling asleep ourselves while feeding Isaac was a normal thing too.

Daniel and I started school again. Daniel was working full time and going to school full time, commuting from Salem down to Oregon State University every day. I continued to do online classes, and began taking some evening classes when Daniel was home to watch Isaac. Also during this time I was still having problems from Isaac’s birth. No one at my OB/GYN clinic could determine why I was still in pain, so they sent me up to OHSU in Portland to see a specialist.

For these appointments it would take me a number of hours to drive up, have the appointment, and drive home, so Daniel and Isaac stayed home while I made the commute. The doctor I saw was a woman, which I was grateful for because I’ve always thought it a little creepy for men to be in that line of work. The doctors at OHSU were very knowledgeable and no-nonsense, which I also appreciated.

After some examination I was diagnosed with two things. The first diagnosis was the doctor who stitched me up after Isaac’s birth had stitched me up too tightly. The second diagnosis was vaginismis, a condition I had never heard of before. The doctor explained it to me and I was also able to read more online. I was given some equipment to begin physical therapy at home. Those tools cost me just under $200 and insurance didn’t cover any of it. I remember this because I had to take the money out from an ATM there at the OHSU campus, and never in my life had I ever taken so much from an ATM before. I was also given a list of physical therapists in my area to contact. I never did contact a physical therapist because the pain and shame I felt already was so great that I couldn’t bring myself to seek outside help other than my doctor. It was also recommended that I seek counseling to help me with the mental part of the healing process.

Isaac's Story, Part 2 of 4

This post contains material which may be objectionable to some readers.

The night of the 25^th we got our suitcase all packed up. In the morning we put it in the trunk and drove to my appointment. Sure enough, after a brief exam, the doctor decided to induce me. It was about this time that they finally mentioned the diagnosis of preeclampsia/toxemia, my blood pressure was sky high, and I had gained a total of about 120 pounds. Because they were inducing me, there would be no nice natural birth out at Silverton Hospital. I was going to give birth there at Salem Hospital, in their brand new maternity ward. It had literally just opened up, and they sent me over. It was right next door so we walked, and used Dan’s cell phone to call our families and let them know that I was being admitted.

We checked in and were put up into the room I would give birth in. As I said, the maternity ward was so very new, and I was the very first person to use that room. The nurse had to locate and unwrap all the new equipment pieces to use on me. It’s a strange thought to think of how many babies have been born in that room since then, where I had been the first. I couldn’t eat or drink, except I think they did allow small sips of water. I don’t recall the name of the medication that was used to induce me, and if they even ever told me the name it was quickly in passing just before they gave it to me. I do know it was a pill form and was inserted into the birth canal. Hours passed and nothing was happening, so they had to give me a second dose of the medicine the same way.

Eventually I began to feel some contractions, but mostly I saw them on the monitor they had me strapped to. I remember thinking that if the rest of the contractions were like this, this was going to be a snap.

Evening came, and I began to have back labor. The birthing room I had was equipped with a Jacuzzi tub, the wonderful kind only God could have inspired. It was roomy and warm and glorious. It was also short lived, and the nurse was beginning to get frustrated with me when I wanted to stay in the tub longer than I was supposed to. It relieved a lot of my pains just to be in that warm water.

The night progressed. I had to make painful trips to the bathroom. I remember getting mad at Daniel, that how dare he fall asleep on the sofa while I was in so much pain bringing his child into the world? On one trip to the bathroom I felt something wet coming down my leg, and I thought that on top of everything else I had just managed to pee on myself and the floor. But when the nurse came in to check on me, they found that my water had broken. “When did your water break?” she asks. I shrugged because I honestly didn’t know, but I told her I thought I had peed on their floor.

When I had thought I would give birth in Silverton, I had planned on it being a drug-free birth and I had even been using hypnobirthing tapes and relaxation techniques for months to prepare for the birth of our son. But with all that had happened, with the pain I was in and the fear I had, I told my Salem Hospital nurses I wanted an epidural.

The guy came in and had me sit on the side of the bed while I leaned over, during contractions, while he tried to stick me with a needle. It didn’t work. He tried it again, called it good, and ran off because he was running late to a c-section. That second epidural didn’t work either. Actually, it numbed one of my legs. My leg! They had also inserted an IV into one of my hands, and it was obviously done wrong because it was so painful. I was able to get them to eventually move the IV to my other hand, and it was much better.

But labor progressed, and the pain in my back and then the cramp I developed in my other leg was so horrible that it surpassed the pain the contractions were giving me. I was exhausted, and in between contractions I would pass out in sleep, only to wake up to another wave of pain. There really are no words in the English language to describe the pain of giving birth. Excruciating comes close. For me, even though I had practiced the hypnobirthing techniques and I had something as a focal point there in the birthing room, my mind did this weird thing that I can only describe as a sort of detachment… The year before I had been to a circus with a friend, and the thing my mind focused on now during labor was the shape of the ears of the elephants they had there at the circus. I don’t have an explanation for why I focused on that or why elephant ears came to mind, except my mind just did it on its own. Also in my case, the pain was so severe that I was past the point of tears or crying or screaming. All I could do was moan and try to endure the best I could.

The time came that our son was ready to be born. Two midwives that I’d never seen before in my life came in to assist me. They dropped the bottom part of the bed, and there was a thick foam pad on top of the bed that they cut through and ripped off the bottom part. I had remembered one of my old coworkers talking about what it felt like to give birth, that it felt like you were about to have the biggest poop in the entire world, and that’s when you needed to push. As soon as I felt that sensation, I told the midwives I was pushing and they said okay. At one point I remember saying I couldn’t do it anymore, everything my body was going through, but the midwives encouraged me to keep going. They also began to call for emergency crews to arrive.

Isaac's first picture

When Isaac was born, Daniel was able to get a quick picture before the midwives quickly cut the cord and whisked him to the other side of the room to where a male emergency doctor waited. The plan that we had for Daniel to cut the cord wasn’t to be. I tried to ask what was going on but the midwives and nurses just shook their heads and didn’t say anything. They were busy watching what was going on with my son. The male emergency doctor was doing something on the other side of the room with his back to me, and I couldn’t see what was going on. He suddenly called for a nurse and told her to go get one of their emergency response teams (I don’t recall what he called it). The nurse stood dumbly in the doorway and stared. Why wasn’t she moving? After he had to say it a third time and I was near to screaming out the order myself, the nurse turned and disappeared down the hall. Soon that order was dismissed before the team even arrived because whatever had happened the male doctor didn’t need that team anymore (it would be a couple years later while preparing for our CDRC appointment, I received a copy of Isaac's hospital records to take down with us and for the first time saw that it had taken 10 minutes for Isaac's APGAR scores to become normal. I cried so hard when I read that because no one had told me his APGAR score and it was another reminder of how close I came to losing my son). Isaac was named after his 2^nd great-grandfather, was born at 6:33am on June 27^th, 2003 and weighed 6 lbs 12 oz and was 19.5 inches long. In spite of the pain, there is something breathtaking about seeing your child for the first time and realizing that you created that little person. In the months to come, I would be in complete awe of Isaac.

Male emergency doctor working on Isaac

I knew a doctor was on the way to stitch me up, but I was so exhausted I didn’t think to ask for details. I hadn’t been given an episiotomy, so some part of me knew that I had torn. When the doctor finally arrived, she raked my two midwives over the coals up one side and down the other. She was pissed. “This isn’t even a tear,” the doctor said. In my exhausted state I said, “What is it?” She responded, “Oh, it’s a tear all right,” and didn’t elaborate beyond that. Then she began stitching me up. Except remember I said my epidural didn’t work? I began to scream as the needle went into my flesh. The doctor looked up and said, “I thought she had an epidural”. “She did,” they said. The doctor ordered some medicine to be administered to me through my IV, and began to stitch me up again. I screamed again because she hadn’t given the medicine any time to enter my bloodstream. Mercifully the medicine kicked in quickly, because the doctor never slowed down her stitching. It took her about 30 minutes to sew me up. At one point I felt something warm between my legs and asked what it was. I had peed on the doctor. And I didn’t care. Being spread eagle on the table and having countless doctors and nurses and crew coming in and out of the room, there was nothing that could have happened that would have embarrassed me at that point.

When I asked how long I’d been in labor for, the midwives shrugged. We figure it may have been 3 hours, but we don’t know. We were eventually told by someone that the emergency we had was because Isaac came out with his arm wrapped around his neck, causing breathing difficulties for him and causing me to tear.

I was finally moved to my recovery room, the room I would be in until Isaac and I were released from the hospital. The nurses there made me these genius ice pads that were small diapers with the filling separated and then filled with crushed ice. They felt wonderful.

Four generations: My grandpa "Groucho", my dad, Daniel, and Isaac, the first grandson

Family began showing up. I also tried nursing Isaac. The lactation consultant was impressed I had gone up three cup sizes, so I figured between that and the knowledge I had learned about nursing that it would be fairly easy. It wasn’t. Isaac had a poor suck reflex, and he had to be supplemented with formula. He also developed jaundice, and his little foot heel was pricked many times for blood samples. By the end of the day Isaac wasn’t eating well and the jaundice had worsened, so he was admitted to the NICU, also brand new in the new maternity ward. I’ve wondered if there were other problems that led to his being admitted to the NICU, especially about his breathing, but if there were any other problems no one told me about them. I had to be taken by wheelchair to the NICU to see him, which was on a separate floor. I cried. The NICU was comfortably done up, even more so than the NICU at Doernbecher Children’s Hospital. They had a sofa and a rocker, and even a private room where moms could pump in privacy. But it was so hard seeing my newborn little son hooked up to machines.

Isaac in the NICU

I was still determined to nurse, so throughout the night Dan would wheel me to the NICU. Because of Isaac’s poor suck reflexes these nursing trips were extremely frustrating, and trying to get him to latch on even with the use of nursing gadgets I’d never heard of or seen before wasn’t much help. I always ended up pumping and having him bottle fed. The nurses were still supplementing his feedings with formula, which I didn’t love but the important thing was making sure Isaac was getting enough nutrition in.

The next day I was in my room resting when another midwife from the clinic came to check on me. I had never met her before, but I had heard of her and that she was a sweet lady. As she walked into my room she asked, “So, did they send the baby to Doernbecher’s?” What was she talking about? In true form to the tight-lipped attitude of my entire prenatal and maternity care, apparently the doctors had discussed sending Isaac up to Doernbecher’s, but they never once talked to me or Daniel about it. Because of the brand new resources made available at the Salem Hospital, meaning the existence of their new NICU, the doctors decided to keep Isaac there. But we also knew that due to the circumstances, the injuries I received and now Isaac’s health, it was going to be a long hospital stay.

That second day my in-laws showed up, so of course they were brought down to the NICU to meet Isaac. I was still wheelchair bound and had devices hooked to my body to try to get Isaac to nurse (I was modestly covered when they entered, of course). My newborn son was hooked with wires and tubes. My mother-in-law said, “Just think. If you had been a pioneer, you and your son would have died”. Unfortunately, this was not the first or last inappropriate thing she has ever said, but at that time she couldn’t have chosen anything worse to say. Who the hell says something like that to anyone, family or not?! It’s one thing to think it, because the thought had come to me also, but it’s entirely another to say it out loud.

Our days continued like this, with visitors coming and Dan and I taking frequent trips to the NICU, about every 2 hours. On about day three I tried to walk back to my room from the NICU, and began having terrible cramps and bleeding profusely. I had to sit down on one of the admitting chairs while my husband found a wheelchair for me. I ended up ruining that chair. After Dan wheeled me back to my room I had nurses constantly hovering over my crotch. Again, they never said anything, but I suspect they were concerned with hemorrhaging.

A funny thing did happen in the NICU one day. I hate fart humor and anything along those lines is really not funny. But this one day Daniel and I were down visiting with Isaac when Daddy had particularly foul smelling gas. A nurse walked into our area and made a comment about how it was time to change Isaac’s diaper. I began giggling and the nurse looked at me and made a comment to the effect that it wasn’t funny. I said, “Yes it was, because that was Dad”. I didn’t want the nurse poking around in Isaac’s diaper when there was absolutely no need for it!

About this time I was also able to take my first shower. That was when I first realized how therapeutic a shower could really be. Gradually wires and devices were removed from Isaac. Isaac and I were both still patients, with me in the maternity ward and Isaac still in the NICU.

Getting ready to head home

On July 3^rd, Isaac’s original due date and one week after entering the hospital, we were allowed to go home. The hospital provided free baby pictures, so we dressed Isaac up in his special going home outfit. It was a little baseball outfit, including a tiny hat, and it was so big on him that I told Daniel he looked like a little hoodlum. We tucked the excess material under him and laid him on the blanket I had spent so many months making and gave myself tendonitis over. We couldn’t get Isaac to wake up, but we still got a cute picture. As we left the hospital a nurse also took our picture, our new little family. I was still swollen with edema and could barely walk because of delivery pain, but I was well enough to go home and so was Isaac.

We arrived home. Daniel carried Isaac up the stairs to our second floor apartment. I followed very, very slowly behind. Climbing those stairs was excruciating. When we were all settled in and things unloaded from the car, I took a picture of Daniel next to Isaac, who was still in his car seat. For some strange reason Daniel likes to point in pictures, but it was a good picture of Isaac’s homecoming. What a picture doesn’t show is that total and complete sense of anxiety of “Now what?” now that we were home and about to start life as a new family.

Isaac's Story, Part 1 of 4

This post contains material which may be objectionable to some readers.

There was nothing typical or normal about my pregnancy with Isaac. I suspect that things may have turned out better if I had not had prenatal care in Salem, and if I had not given birth at Salem Hospital, but that’s something I will never know.

When Daniel and I became engaged, we had prayed to know when the right time would be for us to start our family. The answer we received was that we should start trying as soon as we were married.

We were married July 19^th, 2002. Daniel and I both worked at that time, he at a garden center and me at Payless, and a short time later were both also back in school. Three months after the wedding we found out I was pregnant. I had begun to feel horribly sick, having nausea that lasted all day. At first I thought it was a virus, although in the back of my mind I wondered. It wasn’t long before I took a pregnancy test, and even before I could set it on the counter and leave the bathroom I saw it show the positive sign. Daniel and I hugged. I cried… I was so happy and excited. Dan was silent with shock written all over his face. We were going to be parents!

Somehow I managed to make it through my first term of school with a 4.0 GPA. I was terribly sick though. The nausea lasted all day long, and there was no relief. I was never told about pregnancy-safe nausea medicines. I had to brush my teeth before eating, to prevent losing whatever food I could keep down. I survived on crackers.

It was during this first trimester of pregnancy that two things happened.

The first was that Daniel had landed a job at Silverton Hospital which had excellent benefits, so I was able to choose my doctor and start prenatal care. I decided to go with a popular midwife my sister had told me about, Kate, and I decided I wanted a natural birth out at Silverton Hospital (even though we lived in Salem, that was still an option). My due date was July 3^rd, 2003. When we met Kate the first time, she informed us that before my due date she would be on vacation out of state. I didn’t think that would be a problem. Even though my sister had HELLP syndrome with her daughter, I was determined that by sheer will I would have a normal pregnancy and I figured Kate would deliver our child when she returned from vacation. No problem.

The other thing that happened was a dream I had. I had a dream that our child (we had a feeling he would be a boy) would be born on June 27^th, 2003. I actually dreamed that date. I went to work and told my coworkers about it, and one asked, “Why that day?” I said I didn’t know.

About this time we also moved from our apartment in south Salem to a nicer 2 bedroom apartment in west Salem. We fell in love with the area and our church ward there. We were within walking distance to a large beautiful park by the river and also to a grocery store and a produce market. We were still close to family and friends. It was perfect.

But it was shortly after I started seeing Kate that problems began to arise. I was rapidly dropping weight, and at one visit Kate told her assistant she wanted the scales checked for accuracy. They were accurate. I also began having problems with protein in my urine, and my iron was low. Kate began having me add more protein to my diet, and I started taking an iron pill. I had to stop the iron pill, even the one that was supposed to be mild for sensitive people, because it made me so ill. I was also spotting frequently, but they couldn't find a cause for it.

I began having severe pain and burning down the middle of my belly while at work. I mentioned it to my boss, and then to Kate. On examination she found that I had torn my abdominal wall from all the bending, lifting and reaching I was doing at work. I had to start wearing a belly brace because of the injury (but boy did it feel good!), and I had to quit my job. I cried when I put in my notice. At times I truly hated parts of my job and all the stupid things they wanted us to do. Our district manager was a woman who reminded me of a gay man trapped in a woman’s body. Fake. She had thought it would be a brilliant idea if we could ever sell beer along with our shoe merchandise. So yes, I hated my job at times, but I really loved the people I worked with. My boss told me I could take maternity leave, but I told her that since I wanted to become a stay-at-home mom, I knew it was time to quit.

I stayed in school, but that also became difficult. It was my second trimester and just walking across campus to my classes caused me to have horrible contractions that made me stop and catch my breath. They were so painful. I then had to take slow baby steps to finish getting to class, and prayed that I wouldn’t be late.

I had other pain as well. One night, in the middle of the night, I woke up screaming and sat bolt upright in bed. I had a horrendous pain in the calf of my leg. I developed a bright red welt there, but figured it was a Charlie-horse like I had heard about. By the time I saw Kate, I told her about it but the welt was nearly gone. She frowned and left the room to consult with another doctor in the office. After some time she finally returned and told me they think it may have been a broken blood vessel or something like that, and if it ever happened again that I should call them immediately. Scary.

We had our ultrasound and it was confirmed that we were having a boy! “There’s the boy part”, said the tech. There was no doubt we were having a boy either, because our little baby just put it all out there for the whole world to see. The ultrasound went smoothly and we quickly got all the pictures we needed. I believe it was the following evening we had the missionaries over for dinner, and Daniel was so proud to be having a boy that he had to show them the “hot dog” ultrasound pictures. He was one proud daddy!

My only food aversions during my pregnancy were to onions, broccoli and cauliflower, which were all fairly easy to avoid. But I had terrible heartburn and had to have a constant supply of Tums on hand. I didn’t really crave any foods, but burritos tasted better than they usually did.

I began to gain weight. At first that was a good thing because I had been losing so much before. But this weight gain quickly became alarming. One day Kate asked me what I was eating during the day, partly to figure out the weight gain and also the consistent problem of proteins in my urine. When I told her that at school I packed a peanut butter and jam sandwich, an apple, a pack of fruit snacks, and of course my handy water bottle, I’ll never forget what she told me. Of course she informed me the fruit snacks were all sugar so I shouldn’t eat them. But she also told me I should stop eating apples because they had too many carbs! She had me instead switch to protein snacks like beef jerky and nuts. In hindsight I realize she was basically putting me on an Atkins diet, a diet that at that time I didn’t know about but was quickly becoming popular. I knew fruit is good for you, but this was my first pregnancy and Kate had been to medical school, and I was scared with what was happening to my body, so I followed her advice.

My appointments with Kate became a bi-weekly to weekly thing far, far sooner than the average pregnancy. One day I knew I had made a mistake by choosing Kate as my doctor, but I didn’t know if I could or even should make a switch because I was already in so deep with medical problems. That day I had been allowed to squeeze in to Kate’s schedule because of a severe migraine I couldn’t break, and being pregnant the only thing I could take was Tylenol. I was sitting in the exam room waiting for Kate to come in (Dan also came with me to nearly all my appointments), and then I heard Kate outside the door lift my chart up and examine it. She then let out a groan and began complaining, probably to her assistant, that I was there again. Obviously she either didn’t realize I could hear her or she didn’t care. The tears I’d been holding back from the pain came out, and when she walked in the room Kate quickly became the Good Doctor. She figured I was crying only because of the amount of pain I was in. I don’t remember how that migraine was treated, but I’ll never forget that office visit and how much it made me dread future visits.

My weight gain was rapidly increasing, and every week I averaged a seven pound gain. My blood pressure was also steadily increasing and I had horrible swelling. I felt like I had absolutely no control over my body. I was having numerous blood and urine tests done. Kate told me if my weight and blood pressure didn’t become stable, they would put me on bed-rest. But she never once mentioned a cause or a diagnosis. This tight-lipped behavior would become a pattern in the months that followed. By this point I cried at every appointment since all I heard was bad news. Kate told me that at the weekly meetings all the doctors have together, one other woman and I were their top concern among their patients. On one visit I was standing in line in the lobby waiting to check in, and became so dizzy I had to sit down otherwise I knew I would pass out. I ended up waiting in the lobby for quite a while before I was finally called back to the exam room. The nurse took my blood pressure and frowned, and asked if I had been in a hurry to get to my appointment because my blood pressure was so high. I told her no, about how dizzy I was and how long I had to wait in the lobby before she called me back.

I was seven months along when I was put on bed-rest. That meant I was laid up on the couch with my feet propped up on pillows, and I could only get up to use the bathroom and get something to eat. Sitting up felt terrible on my legs and feet anyway, so being on the couch was the most comfortable place for me anyhow. I spent my time working on my studies, catching up on crafts, and most of all working on a cross-stitch baby blanket for our newborn son. My school classes had to be completed online, and I’m grateful the instructors were willing to work with me around my medical problems. In addition to bed-rest I also had to start collecting urine samples at home. This involved huge red cylinders that I had to keep cool. To do this, we kept a bucket of cold water in the bathroom next to the toilet and stored the cylinder there. After one was filled, I had to seal it off in a plastic bag and (yes, this is beyond gross) store it in the fridge until I had a complete 24 hour sample. This involved a total of 3-4 cylinders, and then my husband making trips to the hospital to drop them off at the lab. I had to do this quite a few times.

I had another migraine, this one that landed me in the emergency room. I was given a shot of morphine, which scared me for the baby’s sake, but I was in so much pain. During this time they monitored me and the baby closely, with one of those big straps across my belly. We were there for hours and were finally able to come home in the wee hours of the morning. We were exhausted and I was oblivious to the world, so Dan had to call in to work and let them know he wouldn’t be in that day.

Kate was still monitoring my food intake and trying to get me to still decrease all my carbs and increase my protein even more. One day I managed to do it. I had a day that was virtually carb-free, including eating homemade tuna fish salad rolled up on lettuce leaves as one of my meals. I felt so sick. When I told Kate about that day, she was glad I had reduced my carbs so much. When I told her how sick I felt, she told me our bodies do need some carbs. I felt like no matter what I did I couldn’t get it right. I cried more.

The bed-rest did help my blood pressure, although it still remained too high. I continued to gain weight, but it wasn’t quite as rapid. The bed-rest also helped with the swelling, but not much. I will never forget the sensation of walking across the room and actually being able to feel the skin on top of my feet jiggle as I walked. It was a horrible, sick sensation.

Emotionally, I was a wreck, but I didn’t recognize the symptoms of depression at the time. I just knew I had frightening thoughts, I felt like I had lost complete control over anything that happened to my body, and I would wake up in the wee hours of the morning and sit at the kitchen table and just cry.

The time finally came for Kate to leave for her vacation, and she told me that with the doctor I would see in her place, she would induce me if they felt it was necessary. My next appointment was scheduled for the morning of June 26^th, and because of the dream I had had about six months earlier, I knew it was time.

Breaking news!

Breaking news: Our neighbor, the guy on the other side of our duplex, had his grass mowed today!!!!!!

That's seriously a big deal. He's lived there for over 6 months now and has never, ever mowed his grass. The only reason the front part of his yard has ever been at a modest height is because his front yard is connected to the neighbor next to him, and they've been mowing his grass. But his backyard? It's been fenced off from our backyard and of course the people next to him. And that grass was TALL. I wanted to get a picture of it because it was starting to look like a jungle out there (especially with the two huge potted bamboo plants he has sitting next to his backdoor). There are some very tall pieces of grass that were missed today right where the fence is, so I may be able to get out and get a picture of Isaac next to it. But I'm 5'2" and some of that grass came to my chin. The sad thing about the grass being mowed today was it wasn't even our neighbor doing it, it looked like his middle-aged father. And the logical thing would have been to use a weed wacker first, but instead he just had his mower and it took him about an hour to do that tiny bit of yard! When this guy first moved in Daniel asked if he'd like him to help mow his grass for him, and he said no, that he had a mower he could borrow from his mom. Ya. Right.

I've got issues with this guy, and I've never actually said boo to him yet. He's renting a duplex, which requires some degree of maintenance on his part. But he's there on average one night a week, and maybe one day. Really! He's got a girlfriend who comes and stays with him when he's staying there, and I swear that girl is loud and squeals like a pig in heat. They are loud neighbors. I had to call in a complaint twice because we could hear his TV/music over our own house noise, even though between our two living rooms we have 2 garages and laundry rooms separating us!!! The guy isn't a big guy at all, but he makes more noise coming and going out of his house than the previous two tenants who lived there before him. In fact, he makes more noise than the two basset hounds the previous couple had, and we can hear him stomping up his stairs all the way from our living room. He also drives a massive truck, so I originally thought he was in construction but turns out he works for UPS. Methinks that with this rental and the big truck and the heavy way he carries himself that he's trying to make up for something?

Either way I'm glad the grass was cut, even if we know it's going to grow back (I'll take a picture then!) We just bought Isaac a swim pool for the summer, and I was scared to death of being out there and having snakes come slithering out of the neighbor's tall grass into our yard!

My hard working boys

Dan mowed the grass this morning, and Isaac asked if he could help with his lawnmower toy. Isaac primed it and everything, just like Daddy.

They did a great job on the yard!

And here they are this evening, washing the van. We got the van in February, and this is the first bath we've given it (oooh, that's embarrassing). It was pretty funky. Isaac is learning that he likes to help, especially if it also means he can earn a dime or two! Right now they're washing the elderly neighbor's blazer, and tomorrow they'll get to tackle our other car.

A lot done, a little to do

I have exactly 2 weeks left as of today. My official due date is June 8th, but since the c-section is scheduled for June 2nd that puts me at 2 more weeks. Unless she comes early. And boy, I hope she comes early. But either way the end is in sight!

We've got the kids' room just about done. We hung up the Care Bear posters I made on Brooke's side of the room, but I've got to replace the kind of tape I used on the back because half of them have fallen down. I've washed bottles and dresser drawers are full of clean and ready clothes. The only thing really to do is just general tidying to make everything look pretty. We're going to have the kids exchange small gifts to each other, and yesterday I ordered two Speed Racer cars Isaac has been wanting from Amazon. He thinks he's getting just one so it'll be a real surprise when he gets two.

Isaac has been doing excellent with his pooping in the potty! In the past week he's just had one accident! For quite a while now we've used a chart in the bathroom and for every pee he gets one checkmark, and for every poo he gets two checkmarks. Each checkmark is worth 15 minutes of computer game time. But the real motivator for the poo has been us copying what they've been doing at school, and every time he goes he earns something from the treasure bucket (a small dollar store toy). He's down to one toy left, and he's running out of room in his toy bins for more toys, so we'll probably start replacing the treasure bucket toys with giving him a dime or a quarter for each poo. He really, really wants a Speed Racer video game but he knows there won't be any video games until he's 100% potty trained.

Joy is a choice

You can also read this here: http://www.moneysavingmom.com/money_saving_mom/2009/05/guest-post-finding-joy-in-the-journey.html

I once heard a story about two brothers who set out to dig a deep hole in their backyard. “What are you doing?” some older boys asked.

“We are digging a hole through the earth!” the brothers replied.

The older boys laughed. Digging a hole all the way through the earth was impossible.

After a few moments, one of the diggers picked up a jar full of spiders, worms, and other treasures. “Even if we don’t dig all the way through the earth, look what we found along the way!”

The moral of the story: It is in the digging that life is lived.

In our journey towards debt-free living, how many times do we say, “I’ll be happy when I’m debt-free?” “I’ll be happy when the emergency fund is fully-funded.” or “I’ll be happy when the mortgage is paid off.”

We’re distracted by crisis. We all face frustration, boredom, pain. But joy is a choice.

By recognizing the positives in my life, I feel joy. Celebrating the everyday blessings is a deliberate action. It’s a purposeful mindset which transforms my life.

Blessings are all around us; they are just waiting to be noticed. We can choose to dwell on the difficulties or we can look for the joy.

I still have problems. I still have inconveniences and discomforts. However, I am allowing them to be less important, less significant by choosing to acknowledge the wonderful things in my life. I am practicing praise and attempting to do away with complaining.

There is joy in the journey.

I really loved that. Especially lately I've been having a very hard time with pain in this pregnancy, it was a nice reminder to keep focusing on what's going right. Yes, it hurts to walk, and doing things like going up stairs or getting dressed requires slow movements, but I can still accomplish things. Like getting the dishes done... and since we don't even have a dishwasher that is an accomplishment!

Every Friday is library day, and I'm grateful that today my husband has enough time before work to take Isaac, and next week hubby has Friday off and he can take Isaac again since it hurts for me to move around.

Every weekend I make a to-do list of things I need to get done. This weekend it's rather large. I'm grateful that I can take Friday and Saturday (and Sunday if I have to) to get it all done, even though these are things I used to be able to accomplish in a single day. I'm grateful that my husband cleaned the shower/tub for me, and it's even more special because I didn't even have to ask. He just saw it on my list and did it!

I can find joy by accomplishing the things I need to do, and so what if it takes me days to get it all done?

A manly baby shower

On Tuesday as Dan's shift was ending, he got a buzz and was asked to come to one of the hospital's conference rooms to help move something heavy. When he walked in, there was a baby shower set up for him! He was so surprised! His coworkers asked where I was, and Dan had to tell them that since he didn't know about the shower, I didn't know, and since I had to pick Isaac up from school shortly I wouldn't be able to make the drive out there anyhow. But it sounded like a great time, and his coworkers were so generous that it made me tear up as I looked through all the cute goodies Dan had brought home.

They couldn't believe Dan didn't know about the shower. "Didn't you notice that when you walked into the room we'd stop talking?" He figured it was girl talk and he really didn't care to hear about it. "Didn't you notice the baby shower cake I was making?" He figured that since that coworker worked for catering, it must have been for one of their events! I love my clueless man.


Yesterday as I brought Isaac to school, I was also surprised that Isaac's teacher had bought a little gift for Brooke! It was an adorable dress with little pink bloomers! Isaac helped take it out of the bag, and as soon as he saw it wasn't something he would be interested in he quickly handed it back to me and headed towards his classroom. We're doing our best to involve him in the process of preparing for Brooke, but it's still got to be hard (for any kid!) to have to see and put up with gifts for someone other than them, and the kid isn't even born yet!

I need to get cracking on Thank You notes. I may do that this afternoon while I'm icing my back.

Week 36

If you stare at it long enough, it does start to look like a baby's head. But I added the notes to the 2nd pic in case you don't have 30 min to stare at the screen.

Today was my doctor appointment for week 36. We arrived on time, but unfortunately my doctor was called to an emergency surgery so she was not.

I hate peeing in a cup, and even 30 years later I still don't have that talent down pat (boys have it so easy). When I came into the exam room I found the exam table/bed with a pad on it and a nicely folded sheet on top. On the doctor's table was a pair of gloves and other torture devices used to take samples and tests. *GROAN* I've felt very fortunate that I haven't had to spread-eagle during this pregnancy, since it seemed like I was doing it all the time when I was pregnant with Isaac. But I knew it was coming since I'm at the end, so I was a good patient and stripped down. After waiting about 30 minutes and still no doctor, I realized I had to use the bathroom again. Daniel says, "Again?!" I glare at him. Um, yes! I'm hugely pregnant, of course I have to pee again! So I had to get re-dressed so I could make it down the hall to the bathroom without frightening other patients.

Feeling much better, I made it back to my room and began the whole process again of undressing and finished just as my doctor walked through the door. Perfect timing! She did the ultrasound there, which was cool because #1: I haven't had one in-office since my first trimester and #2: I wasn't even expecting it. She pointed out the baby's face which I nodded but of course it all looked like scrambled eggs to me. I could see the heartbeat, since that was the only thing fluttering on screen. She measured my tummy, and as she was preparing for the torture-exam, Dan took Isaac out in the hall and called his work to tell them he'd be a little late coming in.

Before my doctor began the exam, she asked if I had any questions... I told her that a few months ago I had mentioned the pain in my groin and she had told me it was from a nerve the baby was sitting on (this was in addition to and separate from the Sciatic nerve pain Brooke has given me). Well, that pain has gotten so bad that it's become painful just to walk. Doing things like getting dressed and climbing the stairs takes real effort because it hurts so bad. I told her that after the birth of my son, because of the injuries I received, ever since then I'd had pain and discomfort down there, and I wanted to know if this pinched nerve was aggravating that old injury. So while she was doing her tests and swabs, she also checked me out. Sure enough, Brooke is down "very, very low" and she said it wouldn't surprise her at all if Brooke was putting pressure right on that spot. Unfortunately, there are still just two things I can do: I can walk around on my hands and knees, which would take the pressure off from down there. And I can give birth. Neither one is very practical since Brooke isn't due yet and I can't spend the day on my hands and knees (not to mention getting up again is hard!) My doctor did tell me that after Brooke is born, if I'm still having pain, she'll send me to physical therapy in a heartbeat. I had to do some PT after Isaac was born, and my doctor had recommended more, but because it was such a painful and humiliating thing to go through I chose not to do more PT. If I have pain this time still, I will be doing the PT!

Everything looks good, and we're very close to Brooke's arrival. I've gained 15 lbs total, which sucks since I had wanted to keep my total down to 15 or less, but my doctor said it's perfect and I've done a really great job. I figure if she says it's good, she knows best, but I'm looking forward to it all being over and done with so I can be active again and get back on a weight loss program.

Only about 3 weeks left to go! Unless Brooke decides to come on the 29th, then it's just over 2 weeks!

Sleep

Isaac slept in until 6:15am this morning, and that was nice.

You know, nothing can really prepare you for motherhood. There are books and classes and advice, but until you're actually doing it you just don't have a clue. Motherhood is about sacrifice. We sacrifice our bodies to bring children into the world, and nothing can 100% bring back your pre-mommy body. We sacrifice our time, because it's no longer our time. In fact, our time is so rare and far and few in between that it's become sacred. And the thing we sacrifice the most is sleep. Sleep is no longer a necessity, but a priviledge.

I won't make a blanket statement and say that all ASD kids don't sleep well, but I feel confident saying that most do have sleep issues. Isaac was 3 years old before he slept through the night. We've always had a set routine for bedtime, starting at 7:30pm he has a bath and then story time and a small snack, and he's in bed at 8:00pm. Then his inner alarm would go off anywhere between 4:00am and 5:00am, and he would be up and ready to start his day. It's been maybe almost a year now that he's had his bright digital clock, and we set the rules that wake-up time is at 6:00am (a good compromise, we thought). He can wake up before then, turn on his light, read a book or quietly play with his toys, but he can't wake mom and dad up until 6:00am unless there's a problem or emergency.

Quite often in the middle of the night we'll find Isaac's bedroom light on, and he's passed back out on his bed. The night before was like that. He had some horrible allergies hit him hard, so he was just miserable. That night every time I got up to use the bathroom (every 2 hours) I'd find his light on and him asleep, so I'd turn it off and pull the covers back over him. Then he came in at 3:30am to wake us up because he thought he'd slept in past 6:00am. Since I'd already been up and down during the night using the bathroom, I was able to get Dan up and he put him back to bed.

Most days Isaac is getting us up right at 6:00am on the nose, which means he's been up for at least a little while watching the clock. So we've learned to really appreciate being able to sleep in until 6:15am, and on the rare occasion where it's 6:30am, that's just heaven.