I was going to write a post here about the steps I have been taking in the right direction.
I was going to talk about how I got the courage to go into Peyton's room, and to wash the unused baby clothes in there in preparation for the snowflake's arrival.
I was going to say how big a deal this was for me.
How I must be healing.
How having this beautiful positive event in my very near future was bringing a sense of closure to my pain and anxiety.
I was going to say all of these things, and then tonight I went in to grab the last few items from her dresser, and I came close to the plastic bag - the one on the floor with her clothes in them.
The bag that has sat untouched,
unwashed,
unattended to,
since the day she died.
And I started to panic.
To panic about things that no one else panics about.
To panic that in being in the room with clothes that had chemo on them, maybe I had exposed myself and the snowflakes to something I shouldn't have.
To panic that the chemo on the tiny clothes in that secured bag may have somehow gotten onto other items in the room.
To panic over fears that wouldn't make sense to anyone else because people don't have babies born with cancer.
People aren't forced to start their child on chemo when they are just 6 days old.
They don't know what it looks like and feels like to hold a 28 day old little girl as she draws her final breath because the chemo has ravaged her body beyond repair.
People don't have to wonder two years later if using items that have been in the same room as a bag of clothes with chemo on them are going to equal some devastating exposure.
Exposure.
Exposure.
Do you see a theme here?
Exposure.
How am I supposed to relax when I am afraid of everything?
I see dangers in everything and feel so much pressure.
Pressure to protect them.
Pressure to keep them safe.
I am responsible.
I am their mother.
But how can I protect them when I couldn't protect her?
I tried my hardest, and it still wasn't good enough.
I didn't lose Peyton to some condition that the risks of can be ruled out at some point.
I lost my child to cancer.
EVERYTHING has been linked to cancer.
P.A.L. might as well stand for Paranoia and Anxiety after Loss because that is where I am tonight.
I was going to write something uplifting here about facing forward with a renewed faith in the future.
I was going to,
but then the triggers and the fears came for me instead.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Do I Laugh Or Do I Cry?
My house hates me.
Don't look at me like that - it's true.
When Peyton died, our seemingly perfect house had over $40,000 worth of unnecessary repairs come up over the first six months to a year of our grieving - talk about an expensive distraction.
Now, here I am, hugely pregnant and on bedrest, and our house has decided to turn on us again.
Honestly, at this point I no longer know whether to laugh or cry.
Yesterday morning I woke up to an odd sound. In my slumber filled haze I thought it was the dog licking something - herself, some furniture, something she had picked up off the floor. "Be quiet Charlotte," I muttered into my pillow, but the sound persisted. When I opened my eyes, I was astonished to find that the sound I heard was water dripping into the room from above our window casing. We live in the northeast and have had a TON of snow and ice in the last month - apparently yesterday our roof decided it had had enough.
I called hubs at work in a panic because there was water everywhere, and I am on bedrest, and what the heck am I gonna do about something like that? He came home and raked what he could off the roof (which, while it was a valiant effort, was kind of useless against the 8-12 inch thick ice pile-up that we have going on up there) and to both of our surprise, the water stopped.
Phew!
I had had an NST scheduled for the morning, and I asked hubs if he needed me (what I thought I was going to do, I couldn't tell you) and he told me he had it covered, so I headed off for the hospital. We were predicted to get a major storm, but luckily it was supposed to be clear until well after my appointment. I arrived at the hospital and wouldn't you know, they put me in the bed RIGHT NEXT TO that same woman from last week... the one with the junk food and the soda and the healthy babies - what are the odds? They did a BP check, overall pretty good though a little high, I am assuming from the stress of my house revolting against me, and hooked me up to the monitors.
The nurse asked how my morning was going, and I told her about the leak, at which point she told me a horror story about it happening at her mother's house, and how it did super extensive damage, and blah blah blah. She then told me to not go into the attic to check it out (like I was gonna do that anyway) and that if it started again, to let someone else deal with the leaking water. Well that is sort of hard when you are home alone. I mean if there is a new leak that pops up, I can't just let it pour in without going over to stick a bucket under it or something.
After scaring me about all the crap that could be in our leaking water, and all the damage it could do and dollars it could cost, the nurse asked where the babies were, and I told her. She tried for a while but couldn't get a heartbeat on Baby A. The nurse kept leaving me and saying how strange it was that it wasn't monitoring, and then she would come back, contort me into some strange position where I had to hold this pad with one finger and that pad with another and I couldn't get to my ginger ale and boy did I want that ginger ale...
What may come as a shock was how unconcerned I was through this whole process. The snowflakes had been so incredibly active all morning and I think that is why. Sometimes my little baby boy A likes to hide from the NST pad so knowing this helped too.
Well an hour went by - then two, and still nothing but spotty recordings of his heartrate 99-200-154-96-202 like that it went on and on. I heard the nurse mutter something about "go see if you can find those twins" to another nurse, and a new woman appeared. She wheeled over the ultrasound machine, found the two babies and figured out the big mystery - both of the snowflakes are now lying transverse (horizontal!) Baby A has been head down and low for months, where as B will flip from vertical head down to transverse from time to time. I guess A got sick of having B sitting on his head, so he flipped too!
I have to admit, I was really frustrated and disappointed by this discovery.
I know it sounds silly to be upset over this but I really REALLY want to VBAC these babies. The nurse gave me some bullshit about how whatever the doc chooses I should be happy, and I wanted to scream because not for nothing, I know many women have c-sections without any issues, but my c-section with Peyton caused me MANY issues, not the least of which was robbing me of my fertility, so I am really not walking lightly into having another one like it is no big deal.
I am a realist, I know the possibility, and maybe the probability even, are there that I will have to c-section these babies, but that doesn't mean I am not wishing for VBAC. C-sections limit the number of children you can have, and we have always wanted a large family. I just don't think that unless you have had a c-section to bring a child into this world, and then lost that child, that someone can fully understand. It was also because of my c-section that we had to wait a year to start trying again, and another 6 months after that to discover I even had an infertility issue... so now that I am beating a dead horse here... let's just say I don't want one. I may need one, but I certainly don't want one.
Once the babies were found on ultrasound, my NST went a lot more smoothly. They checked my fluid, which they told me was wonderful, and sent me on my merry old way. I came home to find hubs working like mad at trying to get ice off the roof to no avail. I usually feel pretty grown up but I have to say, when things like this happen with our house I feel like a kid who is in over her head.
So after a long (and exhausting for hubs) day, we moved back into our bedroom last night- finally! We have been staying in the guest room for about a month - since the infamous mercury incident - and the water dripping in the guest room was just the motivation I needed to get out of there. I had been holding off, since we had put in new wood floors in the bedroom and I wanted to give them time to off gas, but I figured a month was sufficient.
Well, to say last night was a sleepless night would be an incredible understatement. For whatever reason I was nauseous all night, and kept getting up to deal with morning sickness. At about 4AM, I finally closed my eyes and kept them shut, but wouldn't you know... 7AM I woke up to new drips - IN OUR BEDROOM! UGH!
Ty Pennington where are you!?
Hubs was outside shoveling, and looking mighty exhausted by it - poor thing! The storm we got last night was very wet and heavy, and I could see that each shovel-full was making him wish he had stayed in the midwest, rather than move up here to all this snow and mess to marry a northeastern girl!
I peeked my head into the guest bedroom to see how the dripping was going in there, and what had been a controlled drip into a bucket, had spread overnight into a splattering mess! Hubs came in and I gave him the bad news about the leak getting worse, and he headed back out, head down, to re-roof rake the roof! After that, he put more plastic and buckets and towels down in both bedrooms, and looking defeated, headed for the shower.
"We are gonna laugh about this someday." I called to him from the bottom of the stairs.
"About what?"
"About our house deciding to fall apart over the last month of this pregnancy. About not being able to get anything ready in time because of it. About all of it."
"We are?"
"Yes. We are."
"But not today," he grumbled.
"No," I admitted, "not today. But someday."
Don't look at me like that - it's true.
When Peyton died, our seemingly perfect house had over $40,000 worth of unnecessary repairs come up over the first six months to a year of our grieving - talk about an expensive distraction.
Now, here I am, hugely pregnant and on bedrest, and our house has decided to turn on us again.
Honestly, at this point I no longer know whether to laugh or cry.
Yesterday morning I woke up to an odd sound. In my slumber filled haze I thought it was the dog licking something - herself, some furniture, something she had picked up off the floor. "Be quiet Charlotte," I muttered into my pillow, but the sound persisted. When I opened my eyes, I was astonished to find that the sound I heard was water dripping into the room from above our window casing. We live in the northeast and have had a TON of snow and ice in the last month - apparently yesterday our roof decided it had had enough.
I called hubs at work in a panic because there was water everywhere, and I am on bedrest, and what the heck am I gonna do about something like that? He came home and raked what he could off the roof (which, while it was a valiant effort, was kind of useless against the 8-12 inch thick ice pile-up that we have going on up there) and to both of our surprise, the water stopped.
Phew!
I had had an NST scheduled for the morning, and I asked hubs if he needed me (what I thought I was going to do, I couldn't tell you) and he told me he had it covered, so I headed off for the hospital. We were predicted to get a major storm, but luckily it was supposed to be clear until well after my appointment. I arrived at the hospital and wouldn't you know, they put me in the bed RIGHT NEXT TO that same woman from last week... the one with the junk food and the soda and the healthy babies - what are the odds? They did a BP check, overall pretty good though a little high, I am assuming from the stress of my house revolting against me, and hooked me up to the monitors.
The nurse asked how my morning was going, and I told her about the leak, at which point she told me a horror story about it happening at her mother's house, and how it did super extensive damage, and blah blah blah. She then told me to not go into the attic to check it out (like I was gonna do that anyway) and that if it started again, to let someone else deal with the leaking water. Well that is sort of hard when you are home alone. I mean if there is a new leak that pops up, I can't just let it pour in without going over to stick a bucket under it or something.
After scaring me about all the crap that could be in our leaking water, and all the damage it could do and dollars it could cost, the nurse asked where the babies were, and I told her. She tried for a while but couldn't get a heartbeat on Baby A. The nurse kept leaving me and saying how strange it was that it wasn't monitoring, and then she would come back, contort me into some strange position where I had to hold this pad with one finger and that pad with another and I couldn't get to my ginger ale and boy did I want that ginger ale...
What may come as a shock was how unconcerned I was through this whole process. The snowflakes had been so incredibly active all morning and I think that is why. Sometimes my little baby boy A likes to hide from the NST pad so knowing this helped too.
Well an hour went by - then two, and still nothing but spotty recordings of his heartrate 99-200-154-96-202 like that it went on and on. I heard the nurse mutter something about "go see if you can find those twins" to another nurse, and a new woman appeared. She wheeled over the ultrasound machine, found the two babies and figured out the big mystery - both of the snowflakes are now lying transverse (horizontal!) Baby A has been head down and low for months, where as B will flip from vertical head down to transverse from time to time. I guess A got sick of having B sitting on his head, so he flipped too!
I have to admit, I was really frustrated and disappointed by this discovery.
I know it sounds silly to be upset over this but I really REALLY want to VBAC these babies. The nurse gave me some bullshit about how whatever the doc chooses I should be happy, and I wanted to scream because not for nothing, I know many women have c-sections without any issues, but my c-section with Peyton caused me MANY issues, not the least of which was robbing me of my fertility, so I am really not walking lightly into having another one like it is no big deal.
I am a realist, I know the possibility, and maybe the probability even, are there that I will have to c-section these babies, but that doesn't mean I am not wishing for VBAC. C-sections limit the number of children you can have, and we have always wanted a large family. I just don't think that unless you have had a c-section to bring a child into this world, and then lost that child, that someone can fully understand. It was also because of my c-section that we had to wait a year to start trying again, and another 6 months after that to discover I even had an infertility issue... so now that I am beating a dead horse here... let's just say I don't want one. I may need one, but I certainly don't want one.
Once the babies were found on ultrasound, my NST went a lot more smoothly. They checked my fluid, which they told me was wonderful, and sent me on my merry old way. I came home to find hubs working like mad at trying to get ice off the roof to no avail. I usually feel pretty grown up but I have to say, when things like this happen with our house I feel like a kid who is in over her head.
So after a long (and exhausting for hubs) day, we moved back into our bedroom last night- finally! We have been staying in the guest room for about a month - since the infamous mercury incident - and the water dripping in the guest room was just the motivation I needed to get out of there. I had been holding off, since we had put in new wood floors in the bedroom and I wanted to give them time to off gas, but I figured a month was sufficient.
Well, to say last night was a sleepless night would be an incredible understatement. For whatever reason I was nauseous all night, and kept getting up to deal with morning sickness. At about 4AM, I finally closed my eyes and kept them shut, but wouldn't you know... 7AM I woke up to new drips - IN OUR BEDROOM! UGH!
Ty Pennington where are you!?
Hubs was outside shoveling, and looking mighty exhausted by it - poor thing! The storm we got last night was very wet and heavy, and I could see that each shovel-full was making him wish he had stayed in the midwest, rather than move up here to all this snow and mess to marry a northeastern girl!
I peeked my head into the guest bedroom to see how the dripping was going in there, and what had been a controlled drip into a bucket, had spread overnight into a splattering mess! Hubs came in and I gave him the bad news about the leak getting worse, and he headed back out, head down, to re-roof rake the roof! After that, he put more plastic and buckets and towels down in both bedrooms, and looking defeated, headed for the shower.
"We are gonna laugh about this someday." I called to him from the bottom of the stairs.
"About what?"
"About our house deciding to fall apart over the last month of this pregnancy. About not being able to get anything ready in time because of it. About all of it."
"We are?"
"Yes. We are."
"But not today," he grumbled.
"No," I admitted, "not today. But someday."
Saturday, January 22, 2011
What's The Point?
What's the point?
I mean seriously, what * is * the * point?
I eat all this natural and organic food.
I have stayed on bedrest (with the exception of the rare outing here or there) for the last 140 some odd days!
I won't allow myself to indulge in anything that has ever been even remotely linked negatively to pregnancy/children/fetuses/cancer/fertility/development/etc. etc. etc.
I do these things and I just can't help but wonder, what's the point in trying when my house has decided to go to total sh*t over the last month, and every day it seems I am finding myself being exposed to something else?
Something harmful.
A few weeks ago it was the gasoline fumes.
Then the mercury.
Now today we had a plumber, and an incompetent one at that, who decided that even though I was out of the house ALL day so as to avoid any fumes, dust, etc. as he was working, he should hold off on doing any of his gluing or soldering until I got home.
So really, what the hell is the point to even trying?
Clearly this universe is amused at the joke it is making of my sanity.
Amused - and cruel.
I was at my NST yesterday, listening as the nurses explained to the woman beside me that her child's fluid was low because of all the soda she was drinking.
I sat quietly as they called in a dietitian who detailed for her and her husband/partner/boyfriend why it was NOT okay to eat only junk food and that she needed to take a vitamin. Yet, when asked if this baby was her first, the woman (who I am sure has always exercised the same level of care in every pregnancy) told them that no, she already had two children at home.
Two living (and yes I know I am assuming here) healthy children despite the fact that she has done NOTHING to try to provide them with good prenatal care.
I mean seriously, what * is * the * point?
I eat all this natural and organic food.
I have stayed on bedrest (with the exception of the rare outing here or there) for the last 140 some odd days!
I won't allow myself to indulge in anything that has ever been even remotely linked negatively to pregnancy/children/fetuses/cancer/fertility/development/etc. etc. etc.
I do these things and I just can't help but wonder, what's the point in trying when my house has decided to go to total sh*t over the last month, and every day it seems I am finding myself being exposed to something else?
Something harmful.
A few weeks ago it was the gasoline fumes.
Then the mercury.
Now today we had a plumber, and an incompetent one at that, who decided that even though I was out of the house ALL day so as to avoid any fumes, dust, etc. as he was working, he should hold off on doing any of his gluing or soldering until I got home.
So really, what the hell is the point to even trying?
Clearly this universe is amused at the joke it is making of my sanity.
Amused - and cruel.
I was at my NST yesterday, listening as the nurses explained to the woman beside me that her child's fluid was low because of all the soda she was drinking.
I sat quietly as they called in a dietitian who detailed for her and her husband/partner/boyfriend why it was NOT okay to eat only junk food and that she needed to take a vitamin. Yet, when asked if this baby was her first, the woman (who I am sure has always exercised the same level of care in every pregnancy) told them that no, she already had two children at home.
Two living (and yes I know I am assuming here) healthy children despite the fact that she has done NOTHING to try to provide them with good prenatal care.
So what's the point to any of it?
I am driving myself crazy trying everything * possible * under * the * sun to bring these babies into this world healthy, and life keeps spitting hazard after hazard into my face.
I just feel so exhausted.
Plain and simple.
So
Exhausted.
Exhausted.
Defeated.
Disheartened.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Do You Exhale?
I am very excited to post here that I have recently become one of the editors for the online literary magazine, Exhale. For those of you who are not familiar with Exhale, here is a little information from the website:
Exhale has been on a bit of a hiatus this last year, but those who were familiar with it in the past, know what a valuable resource it is for the ALI (Adoption/Loss/Infertility) community. The reason I am posting about this here is because from time to time you may see messages up about a new issue of Exhale that has come out, or a call for submissions.
We are currently in the process of putting together our early Spring issue, due out next month, with the theme of Roller Coasters: Thrill Rides and Not So Thrill Rides on The Adoption, Loss, and Infertility Journey. We are accepting submissions for this issue of poetry, essays, artwork, commentary, personal revelation, photography, and ALI relevant book reviews. If you would like to submit a piece for consideration, please do so by sending it to ExhaleSubmissions@gmail.com before January 31st.
I would also encourage you to check out our website www.exhalezine.com, to follow us on twitter http://twitter.com/exhalemagazine, and to "like" Exhale Magazine on Facebook.
"Exhale is a unique quarterly literary magazine written for and by ordinary people who have faced extraordinary obstacles to getting (or staying) knocked up, or who have experienced miscarriage, stillbirth, or infant death.
Founded in 2008 by Monica LeMoine, Exhale has become a space for creative expression. We seek out the gritty humor and complexities of discovering that producing a child isn’t as easy as our society would have us believe. Without succumbing to the belief that a person’s self-worth and happiness are defined by reproductive achievement, we recognize and validate the vast array of perspectives and emotions associated with pregnancy/infant loss and infertility issues."
http://www.exhalezine.com/magazine/?page_id=2
Exhale has been on a bit of a hiatus this last year, but those who were familiar with it in the past, know what a valuable resource it is for the ALI (Adoption/Loss/Infertility) community. The reason I am posting about this here is because from time to time you may see messages up about a new issue of Exhale that has come out, or a call for submissions.
We are currently in the process of putting together our early Spring issue, due out next month, with the theme of Roller Coasters: Thrill Rides and Not So Thrill Rides on The Adoption, Loss, and Infertility Journey. We are accepting submissions for this issue of poetry, essays, artwork, commentary, personal revelation, photography, and ALI relevant book reviews. If you would like to submit a piece for consideration, please do so by sending it to ExhaleSubmissions@gmail.com before January 31st.
I would also encourage you to check out our website www.exhalezine.com, to follow us on twitter http://twitter.com/exhalemagazine, and to "like" Exhale Magazine on Facebook.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Letters From Heaven
My mother has a friend who claims to get messages from the dead.
Yes, you read that right.
I know.
When you start a post with a sentence like that, you sort of have to expect that half of your readers are going to roll their eyes and click elsewhere.
I don't know this friend well. In fact, I think we may have only met in person once. She started calling my mother shortly after Peyton died to say that she had received a message for me and my mom would take it down and bring it on her next visit, at which point I would just sort of shrug it off as someone trying to offer me some comfort and move on.
Some people believe in spirits.
Some don't.
Some believe their children become angels who reside in the heavens. Some see them in the beauty of nature. Others believe that death is the end, and there is nothing beyond it.
I believe that Peyton's spirit lives on. I believe this because I feel it. I feel her. There is something uniquely Peyton that washes over me from time to time, and I know in my heart that she is in that place you go when you leave this world, nudging me along and offering me comfort.
In the early months after Peyton died, I thought I was losing it.
Legitimately.
I thought that having this child ripped from my body then thrown in the earth was going to be the end for me. One day I was downstairs, taking out my anger and sorrow on the elliptical machine, and I lost track of time. When I emerged from the basement, the daylight had gotten away from me, and walking upstairs, my heart caught in my throat at the realization that the house had gone dark.
I hate walking into dark rooms.
All was blackness around me, with the exception of a small stream of light coming from our dining room. I hadn't been in that room for weeks. It had become a dumping grounds of sorts for all of the condolence cards, and items from the hospital, and when I couldn't figure out what to do with either, I flipped off the lights and didn't return.
Coming up from the basement, I found myself drawn toward the light, and wondering about its origin. I discovered that it was coming from our hutch. It was shining on a small white box -the box of her things that the hospital had given us - her hand prints in plaster- a lock of her sandy brown hair. An entire life packaged into a container far too small to hold a pair of shoes.
What I found particularly odd about the situation was that the light that was shining on Peyton's things requires for you to physically walk over and touch an area of the hutch to turn it on. I hadn't, but I felt in my heart that I knew who had, and a sense of peace washed over me.
I told hubs about this little moment that I had had with Peyton, and the light, and he sort of discounted it as another wacky behavior from his grieving wife. He checked my forehead for a fever, told me I looked like I could use some rest, and reassured me that it must have been something to do with our electric.
A few days later, I was walking up to our bedroom. There is a picture of Peyton on the nightstand, with a flashlight beside it. I keep the flashlight there because I am a terrible insomniac, and rather than wake hubs up with a lamp, the flashlight offers me enough light to read. When I walked into the bedroom, the flashlight was flashing. On. Off. On. Off. casting it's beam against her photograph. I am not gonna lie, the sight of it really had me sort of freaked out. I called to hubs (knowing he would never believe me on this otherwise) and he came running upstairs to see what had happened. The flashlight, which was a good 10 feet away from either of us, continued flashing against her picture.
Hubs was stopped in his tracks.
A light on a hutch being turned on, he could make sense of. A flashlight flashing on and off with no explanation - not so much.
It was a few days later when my mother called to tell me that her friend had "received" a message from Peyton. I sort of rolled my eyes, but listened anyway. "Okay mom," I said, "what did Peyton say in her message this time?" My mom went to reading what she had written down, and I felt myself go white. The message read:
I hadn't told my mother yet about the light in the hutch, nor had I told her about Peyton fooling with the flashlight, but reading "Twinkle. Twinkle." in the message, I knew exactly what Peyton was referring to.
On a seperate occasion, I had gone to Peyton's hill with my father to plant some flowers. On a whim, we decided to collect rocks and make them into the shape of a heart, planting the flowers within them. Later my mother told me she had received a call from her friend with a new message from Peyton. It read:
I asked my mother if she had told her friend about the garden my father and I had created, and she told me that my asking this was the first she had heard of it. My dad had never brought up the fact that we made the garden into the shape of heart.
There have been several more messages that Peyton has sent to this women since her passing. Some that seem to make sense or bring us peace:
And others that seem to have no significance, and leave us scratching our heads:
This weekend, I was sitting in the room that will become the snowflakes' nursery, doing a good job of directing hubs around the room to pack things away to be moved into my writing space, when I came across a few of the notes that my mother's friend had sent with messages from Peyton written on them. I was reading them aloud to hubs, and we were laughing at some of them, and finding meaning in others. Finally I came to the last note we had received.
It was from late last year - a time that was difficult for us. We were struggling with infertility, had not yet been diagnosed with blocked tubes, and had no idea that IVF was in our future. This message at the time had seemed the most bizarre and out there yet, and I tossed it aside, thinking myself a fool for ever having found meaning in any of them.
This weekend, however, when I read it back again, this ridiculous little note suddenly didn't feel so ridiculous anymore. It read:
"The twins!" I said, as if truly reading the note for the first time. "Twice baked potatoes - she was talking about the twins. She knew before we knew."
"Maybe," hubs said, raising an eyebrow and smiling.
Maybe indeed.
Yes, you read that right.
I know.
When you start a post with a sentence like that, you sort of have to expect that half of your readers are going to roll their eyes and click elsewhere.
I don't know this friend well. In fact, I think we may have only met in person once. She started calling my mother shortly after Peyton died to say that she had received a message for me and my mom would take it down and bring it on her next visit, at which point I would just sort of shrug it off as someone trying to offer me some comfort and move on.
Some people believe in spirits.
Some don't.
Some believe their children become angels who reside in the heavens. Some see them in the beauty of nature. Others believe that death is the end, and there is nothing beyond it.
I believe that Peyton's spirit lives on. I believe this because I feel it. I feel her. There is something uniquely Peyton that washes over me from time to time, and I know in my heart that she is in that place you go when you leave this world, nudging me along and offering me comfort.
In the early months after Peyton died, I thought I was losing it.
Legitimately.
I thought that having this child ripped from my body then thrown in the earth was going to be the end for me. One day I was downstairs, taking out my anger and sorrow on the elliptical machine, and I lost track of time. When I emerged from the basement, the daylight had gotten away from me, and walking upstairs, my heart caught in my throat at the realization that the house had gone dark.
I hate walking into dark rooms.
All was blackness around me, with the exception of a small stream of light coming from our dining room. I hadn't been in that room for weeks. It had become a dumping grounds of sorts for all of the condolence cards, and items from the hospital, and when I couldn't figure out what to do with either, I flipped off the lights and didn't return.
Coming up from the basement, I found myself drawn toward the light, and wondering about its origin. I discovered that it was coming from our hutch. It was shining on a small white box -the box of her things that the hospital had given us - her hand prints in plaster- a lock of her sandy brown hair. An entire life packaged into a container far too small to hold a pair of shoes.
What I found particularly odd about the situation was that the light that was shining on Peyton's things requires for you to physically walk over and touch an area of the hutch to turn it on. I hadn't, but I felt in my heart that I knew who had, and a sense of peace washed over me.
I told hubs about this little moment that I had had with Peyton, and the light, and he sort of discounted it as another wacky behavior from his grieving wife. He checked my forehead for a fever, told me I looked like I could use some rest, and reassured me that it must have been something to do with our electric.
A few days later, I was walking up to our bedroom. There is a picture of Peyton on the nightstand, with a flashlight beside it. I keep the flashlight there because I am a terrible insomniac, and rather than wake hubs up with a lamp, the flashlight offers me enough light to read. When I walked into the bedroom, the flashlight was flashing. On. Off. On. Off. casting it's beam against her photograph. I am not gonna lie, the sight of it really had me sort of freaked out. I called to hubs (knowing he would never believe me on this otherwise) and he came running upstairs to see what had happened. The flashlight, which was a good 10 feet away from either of us, continued flashing against her picture.
Hubs was stopped in his tracks.
A light on a hutch being turned on, he could make sense of. A flashlight flashing on and off with no explanation - not so much.
It was a few days later when my mother called to tell me that her friend had "received" a message from Peyton. I sort of rolled my eyes, but listened anyway. "Okay mom," I said, "what did Peyton say in her message this time?" My mom went to reading what she had written down, and I felt myself go white. The message read:
"Laughter is needed to fill our hearts. Twinkle. Twinkle."
I hadn't told my mother yet about the light in the hutch, nor had I told her about Peyton fooling with the flashlight, but reading "Twinkle. Twinkle." in the message, I knew exactly what Peyton was referring to.
On a seperate occasion, I had gone to Peyton's hill with my father to plant some flowers. On a whim, we decided to collect rocks and make them into the shape of a heart, planting the flowers within them. Later my mother told me she had received a call from her friend with a new message from Peyton. It read:
"Tell my mommy and daddy I can see heart flower."
I asked my mother if she had told her friend about the garden my father and I had created, and she told me that my asking this was the first she had heard of it. My dad had never brought up the fact that we made the garden into the shape of heart.
There have been several more messages that Peyton has sent to this women since her passing. Some that seem to make sense or bring us peace:
"Tell them I have so much love tucked into my heart,
because we will always be together."
because we will always be together."
And others that seem to have no significance, and leave us scratching our heads:
"Tell them I love pickle ice cream."
This weekend, I was sitting in the room that will become the snowflakes' nursery, doing a good job of directing hubs around the room to pack things away to be moved into my writing space, when I came across a few of the notes that my mother's friend had sent with messages from Peyton written on them. I was reading them aloud to hubs, and we were laughing at some of them, and finding meaning in others. Finally I came to the last note we had received.
It was from late last year - a time that was difficult for us. We were struggling with infertility, had not yet been diagnosed with blocked tubes, and had no idea that IVF was in our future. This message at the time had seemed the most bizarre and out there yet, and I tossed it aside, thinking myself a fool for ever having found meaning in any of them.
This weekend, however, when I read it back again, this ridiculous little note suddenly didn't feel so ridiculous anymore. It read:
"Twice baked potatoes can be very, very good."
"The twins!" I said, as if truly reading the note for the first time. "Twice baked potatoes - she was talking about the twins. She knew before we knew."
"Maybe," hubs said, raising an eyebrow and smiling.
Maybe indeed.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Missing and Growing...
I miss Peyton's hill... a lot.
I miss talking to her.
I miss feeling her near me.
I miss breathing in the air up there and being inspired to write.
I miss the cold snap of wind against my cheeks as I ask her to send mommy a little warmth and sunshine.
I miss watching the hawks, and the eagles soar overhead.
I miss telling her about the animals that have left tracks in the snow.
I miss finding moments of animation among the stillness.
I miss closing my eyes and tapping my chest the way I would her back when she was in my arms.
I miss singing songs to the quiet air - "You Are My Sunshine," "Smile Awhile," and "Oh Dunderbeck."
I miss feeling that she could hear me singing these songs.
I miss these moments which are the only ones I have left to mother her through.
I miss her.
I can handle the boredom, and the redundancy of bedrest.
I can handle feeling trapped in my home.
I can handle so many things.
What is hardest for me to handle is the way this has kept me from her.
I hate knowing she is up there, covered in snow, and there is nothing I can do to clear her space.
I went from visiting her every single day for over a year and a half, to seeing her only a handful of times this entire pregnancy.
You have not been forgotten little girl.
You have not been replaced.
You never will be.
****POSSIBLE TRIGGER POST****
The remainder of this post talks about the Snowflakes, my pregnancy, and also shows some belly pictures. I know how painful this can be for some of you, and as always, am placing some space here for anyone who wants to avoid such triggers.
*
*
*
*
Just a little Snowflakes update here.
I am 31 weeks 2 days and feeling every bit of it - in great ways of course. There has been a ton of movement - and these little ones have developed the ability to hiccup over the last week or so, which can be pretty entertaining. I feel a lot of pressure lately, and am completely exhausted. I have read about the "brick wall" that you can hit in the final trimester, and don't really remember that with Peyton, but carrying two has proved to be a much different game, and my energy is just tapped out. Breathing has become a bit of a challenge, especially at night. I think that as the day progresses, and my body fills with fluid etc, the babies put more of a strain on my lungs. I am not sure what can be done for this, so I switch positions a great deal in an effort to get some sleep. I usually get a few hour clips at a time. I like to think of it as practice, this insomnia just preparing me for life with two newborn babies at home.
I was supposed to go for a growth ultrasound tomorrow, but it was cancelled due to the horrific weather we are expecting here in the Northeast. That's alright though. Better safe than sorry, and the appointment has been rescheduled for Thursday instead. I am anxious to see how the babies have grown. All along our little boy, Baby A, has been measuring large. At our appointment around 27 weeks, he was already estimated at 2 lbs 12 oz, which put him in the 93rd percentile. Our little girl, Baby B, was measuring 2 lbs 9 oz, which placed her around the 50th percentile. They say that at this point, the babies grow about a half a pound a week, so judging by the fact that nearly 4 weeks have passed since that last scan, and the plethora of new stretch marks that have made an appearance as of late, I feel pretty confident these little ones are keeping that pace up and will be around the 4 lb mark when I go in next.
This is all great news, of course, since the SCH that has had me on bedrest for the last 130 days, also puts me at a heightened risk for preterm labor. The bigger these babies are, should they decide to make an early appearance, the better! Of course I don't want them to come early. I want them in there and cooking for as long as is best for them. If my uterus holds out until 38 weeks, the doctors will insist upon a c-section (which is an experience I would really rather not repeat) so I am just praying that they decide to come on their own around week 37.
For those of you who have asked about names - we don't have any picked out as of yet. We have a list, a very LONG list, that I am hoping to have narrowed down soon. It is proving harder to name two than we expected. Hubs and I don't agree on many names, so our search for the right ones has been an interesting experience.
For those who would like to see, here are the latest belly shots from 30 weeks. As always, your continued prayers for the Snowflakes' safe and healthy arrival are much appreciated.
I miss talking to her.
I miss feeling her near me.
I miss breathing in the air up there and being inspired to write.
I miss the cold snap of wind against my cheeks as I ask her to send mommy a little warmth and sunshine.
I miss watching the hawks, and the eagles soar overhead.
I miss telling her about the animals that have left tracks in the snow.
I miss finding moments of animation among the stillness.
I miss closing my eyes and tapping my chest the way I would her back when she was in my arms.
I miss singing songs to the quiet air - "You Are My Sunshine," "Smile Awhile," and "Oh Dunderbeck."
I miss feeling that she could hear me singing these songs.
I miss these moments which are the only ones I have left to mother her through.
I miss her.
I can handle the boredom, and the redundancy of bedrest.
I can handle feeling trapped in my home.
I can handle so many things.
What is hardest for me to handle is the way this has kept me from her.
I hate knowing she is up there, covered in snow, and there is nothing I can do to clear her space.
I went from visiting her every single day for over a year and a half, to seeing her only a handful of times this entire pregnancy.
You have not been forgotten little girl.
You have not been replaced.
You never will be.
****POSSIBLE TRIGGER POST****
The remainder of this post talks about the Snowflakes, my pregnancy, and also shows some belly pictures. I know how painful this can be for some of you, and as always, am placing some space here for anyone who wants to avoid such triggers.
*
*
*
*
Just a little Snowflakes update here.
I am 31 weeks 2 days and feeling every bit of it - in great ways of course. There has been a ton of movement - and these little ones have developed the ability to hiccup over the last week or so, which can be pretty entertaining. I feel a lot of pressure lately, and am completely exhausted. I have read about the "brick wall" that you can hit in the final trimester, and don't really remember that with Peyton, but carrying two has proved to be a much different game, and my energy is just tapped out. Breathing has become a bit of a challenge, especially at night. I think that as the day progresses, and my body fills with fluid etc, the babies put more of a strain on my lungs. I am not sure what can be done for this, so I switch positions a great deal in an effort to get some sleep. I usually get a few hour clips at a time. I like to think of it as practice, this insomnia just preparing me for life with two newborn babies at home.
I was supposed to go for a growth ultrasound tomorrow, but it was cancelled due to the horrific weather we are expecting here in the Northeast. That's alright though. Better safe than sorry, and the appointment has been rescheduled for Thursday instead. I am anxious to see how the babies have grown. All along our little boy, Baby A, has been measuring large. At our appointment around 27 weeks, he was already estimated at 2 lbs 12 oz, which put him in the 93rd percentile. Our little girl, Baby B, was measuring 2 lbs 9 oz, which placed her around the 50th percentile. They say that at this point, the babies grow about a half a pound a week, so judging by the fact that nearly 4 weeks have passed since that last scan, and the plethora of new stretch marks that have made an appearance as of late, I feel pretty confident these little ones are keeping that pace up and will be around the 4 lb mark when I go in next.
This is all great news, of course, since the SCH that has had me on bedrest for the last 130 days, also puts me at a heightened risk for preterm labor. The bigger these babies are, should they decide to make an early appearance, the better! Of course I don't want them to come early. I want them in there and cooking for as long as is best for them. If my uterus holds out until 38 weeks, the doctors will insist upon a c-section (which is an experience I would really rather not repeat) so I am just praying that they decide to come on their own around week 37.
For those of you who have asked about names - we don't have any picked out as of yet. We have a list, a very LONG list, that I am hoping to have narrowed down soon. It is proving harder to name two than we expected. Hubs and I don't agree on many names, so our search for the right ones has been an interesting experience.
For those who would like to see, here are the latest belly shots from 30 weeks. As always, your continued prayers for the Snowflakes' safe and healthy arrival are much appreciated.
Monday, January 10, 2011
The Creme de la Creme
I am a few weeks behind in posting this, but as I am sure you understand from my last post, these last few weeks have been a bit of a roller coaster.
For the fifth year in a row, the amazing Mel, over at Stirrup Queens, has posted her Creme de la Creme list for 2010. The Creme de la Creme is a compilation of the best blog posts of the Adoption, Loss and Infertility Community. As of this morning, 333 posts have been placed on the list. You can find my post, Tending To Our Wounds, at #2.
I have just started to make my way through each one, but some of the must reads I have come across so far are Living in the Rainbow's An Idiot's Guide to Grieving Dads located in spot #233, and Still Life with Circle's With Thor Home which can be found at #192.
Be sure to check out the list where you can read posts from bloggers you are already familiar with, and to have the opportunity to be introduced to new ones. If you have a post you would like to submit to the list, Mel is taking entries until the end of this month.
Happy Reading!
For the fifth year in a row, the amazing Mel, over at Stirrup Queens, has posted her Creme de la Creme list for 2010. The Creme de la Creme is a compilation of the best blog posts of the Adoption, Loss and Infertility Community. As of this morning, 333 posts have been placed on the list. You can find my post, Tending To Our Wounds, at #2.
I have just started to make my way through each one, but some of the must reads I have come across so far are Living in the Rainbow's An Idiot's Guide to Grieving Dads located in spot #233, and Still Life with Circle's With Thor Home which can be found at #192.
Be sure to check out the list where you can read posts from bloggers you are already familiar with, and to have the opportunity to be introduced to new ones. If you have a post you would like to submit to the list, Mel is taking entries until the end of this month.
Happy Reading!
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Just * So * Exhausted
Since starting this blog in May of 2009, I don't think I have ever gone this long without a post. I cannot appropriately put into words the whirlwind that has been these last two weeks, but here is the Reader's Digest version. The important things to note are that the Snowflakes are fine (I am 30 weeks along now) and things are hopefully going to improve.
(Pardon any typos or incoherence, I am exhausted...)
WED. 12/22 - I woke up to the smell of gasoline in my house and thought it was from some generators being used outside to cut a neighbor's trees down. I left the house to rest at a local friend's, just to be on the safe side until hubs got home, and returned later to find that our house had completely filled with even stronger fumes. This, of course, completely freaked me out because there are links between gas fumes and cancer and you know where my mind was going there...
It turns out our snowblower had cracked overnight in the garage, spilling gasoline. I was not able to return home for several more hours as we had to air the house out, windows open (it was about 15 degrees out at the time.)
This day was also a day hubs was supposed to meet with my mother and bring some Doing Good In Her Name donations to one of our local hospitals. We called my mom to let her know that hubs was on his way, and she informed us that she had a stomach flu and was too sick. We also decided at this point that Christmas would have to be postponed until she felt better. Not able to go back in the house, and unable to go down to my parent's to escape the fumes, hubs and I went for a drive to kill some time which was hard because I was very uncomfortable. When we were finally able to get back into our house, I received word that my cousin Erica's daughter Faith had lost her battle at 2 years and 2 months old to congenital heart disease. The news was devastating.
FRI. 12/24/10
Hubs was getting out of bed and accidentally knocked over a lamp in our bedroom breaking a light bulb. Big deal, you might say, but unfortunately it turned out to be one. We had used one of those new CFL energy efficient squiggly light bulbs in that lamp, and what neither of us knew, is that when you break one there is an 11 step cleanup process required by the EPA to rid your house of dangerous mercury vapor. Of course I was sitting right there when the light bulb broke, and neither of us knew until I googled it, that we should have immediately evacuated and ventilated the room before starting cleanup (Hubs had gone about gathering the broken glass the old fashioned way.)
Per instructions by poison control he cleaned up the mess, but we were told then that because it had been broken on carpet, there would be no way to fully clean the mercury without removing our wall to wall carpeting and replacing it... GREAT. I am all for saving the environment - I donate to land groups. I recycle. That being said, there are no words for how pissed off I feel at the expense that we have had to undergo this last week over a broken 50 cent light bulb.
I called my OB and informed him of my exposure to the mercury vapor, and he told me to come in a few days later to have my blood mercury levels checked to be sure the babies hadn't been harmed.
SAT. 12/24 -Christmas postponed due to mom's illness. Our family celebrates Christmas Eve, so this was a real bummer. Hubs and I spent two sleepless nights in our guest bedroom. I always thought this bed was fairly comfortable, and maybe it is normally, but when pregnant with twins, it is just not getting the job done.
SUN. 12/25 - Merry Christmas. Headed down to see my parents and some family friends, and to get away from my mercury biohazard house since I wasn't allowed to go into my bedroom still. The state's EPA had recommended pregnant women staying away for "several days." We had a nice Christmas Day and finally a good night's sleep.
MON. 12/26 - Hubs left me at my parent's house and headed back to ours with my brother in law to move all the furniture out of our bedroom and rip up the affected carpeting. They came back to my parents house that evening and our family ate spaghetti and meatballs (the kind of meatballs you get in a bag from your grocery store). Not me, I ate spaghetti - no meatballs. Same goes for my sister. This is relevant. Hubs started to not feel too well overnight.
TUES. 12/27 - Hubs wakes up non stop vomiting. Can't hold anything down. I go downstairs to find my brother in law, niece, and nephew, all of whom ate the same thing, are also non stop sick. My sister has a broken leg, so she sort of had her hands tied being stuck on the couch, and my parent's weren't home (my mother had a funeral to attend for a former co-worker.) I did my best to help out, and most especially to get help to hubs, but as you all know I have been on bedrest for four months, and so every trip up and down the stairs is agony.
I called the doctor who tells me I have to get hubs to the ER. I have no way to do this on bedrest, and try to reach my parents. No luck. Hubs continues to be violently ill. I start leaking what I believe to be fluid. My niece starts projectile vomiting. My brother, who is trying to get his strength to drive hubs to the ER can't move, and is laid out on the ground like a wounded soldier.
You get the picture.
This was NOT a pretty scene.
I checked on hubs who was sheet white, and decided to call an ambulance to get him. Luckily, just as I was doing this, my mother walked in the door and was able to take him to an urgent care center closer to their home. For the next two hours, hubs was given over 2 liters of fluids to replenish him. Luckily no one else needed to be brought in for fluids.
We will never know for sure what caused the illness, but I think I am staying off frozen meatballs permanently just in case.
WED. 12/28 My mom takes me to the OB to have an appointment. Both snowflakes are head down - yay! and I have my blood drawn for the mercury test. I don't know how he finds the energy for it, but hubs and my dad head back up to our house and start to install hardwood floors in our bedroom. They stay overnight.
THUR. 12/29 We attend Faith's wake. It was absolutely beautiful. The strength my cousin displayed throughout the day leaves me in awe. I am two years into my grief, and remember how those early days felt, and honestly, I don't know how she does what she does. She amazes me. The wake was beautiful but I started to have some really terrible contractions. At around 6:30 I asked my mother to take me home. By the time we got home, I started getting sick from the contractions. I took a warm shower, hoping that would ease my muscles (I figured I overdid it being at the funeral) and know the water was warm but I was freezing. I step out of the shower to find that my hands are turning blue. I am totally freezing. I crawl into bed and everything hurts - my hair, my eyes, my teeth. I spike a fever of 101 and stay there for the next two days, too sick to even attend Faith's funeral on Friday, which is devastating for me. The fever made me really sick, I couldn't keep anything down. I asked the OB if he thought it was a stomach bug and he said no, that vomiting etc is my pregnant body's reaction to the fever. He tells me he thinks that I have picked up the flu.
Again, where is that bubble for me to live in when I need it?
FRI. 12/31 & SAT. 1/1 A bit of a blur. I do know hubs woke me up to have me see the ball drop. Finally, sometime between Saturday and Sunday, my fever breaks.
SUN. 1/2 I was feeling pretty good but still unable to eat anything. Hubs headed back home to our house to try to get the hardwood floors in the bedroom and upstairs hallway done so I could come home. Sunday night I started having contractions every five minutes. I tell the babies this is not time for them to come - our house is a catastrophe - there is furniture in every room that has been moved around to make room for the hardwood floors, and we had a new washer and dryer which hubs was supposed to be able to have installed on his week off (obviously didn't happen because of the other things going on) that are taking up the center of our living room. I tell them that I am going to sleep, and if they need me to wake me up, but it would really be better for everyone involved if they could hang out a little longer.
MON. 1/3 I wake up completely surprised to find that I have not gone into labor over night. Hubs calls to say that he is finishing up the floor, and should get me by 2PM. 2 comes, 3 comes, 4 comes. At 7PM I get a call that goes like this:
Hubs: Remember that time when I sawed through my toe?
Me: You mean when we were camping?
Hubs: Yeah.
Me: Yeah I remember... why?
Hubs: Well, I did that again. Just this time with my hand. I think I need to go to the ER.
Yeah, four stitches and a tetanus shot later, hubs came to get me from my parents house. We finally got home at around 10:30PM. We went to bed in the guest room (still no furniture in the bedroom) and I didn't sleep at all. Apparently 30 weeks is when you completely cease being able to breathe or get comfortable with twins.
TUES. 1/4 Exhausted all day but hopeful that things are turning up.
TODAY - Woke up with a painful sinus infection.
I give up!
PS - A LITTLE HOUSEKEEPING NOTE: If you have been following my dear friend Birni's story at the blog All The Little Ponies, and have noticed taht you can no longer access it, please send her a note at birni@cybergal.com and she will add you as a follower. Because of some IRL drama, Birni has had to go private, but she would still love those in this community to be able to follow along.
(Pardon any typos or incoherence, I am exhausted...)
WED. 12/22 - I woke up to the smell of gasoline in my house and thought it was from some generators being used outside to cut a neighbor's trees down. I left the house to rest at a local friend's, just to be on the safe side until hubs got home, and returned later to find that our house had completely filled with even stronger fumes. This, of course, completely freaked me out because there are links between gas fumes and cancer and you know where my mind was going there...
It turns out our snowblower had cracked overnight in the garage, spilling gasoline. I was not able to return home for several more hours as we had to air the house out, windows open (it was about 15 degrees out at the time.)
This day was also a day hubs was supposed to meet with my mother and bring some Doing Good In Her Name donations to one of our local hospitals. We called my mom to let her know that hubs was on his way, and she informed us that she had a stomach flu and was too sick. We also decided at this point that Christmas would have to be postponed until she felt better. Not able to go back in the house, and unable to go down to my parent's to escape the fumes, hubs and I went for a drive to kill some time which was hard because I was very uncomfortable. When we were finally able to get back into our house, I received word that my cousin Erica's daughter Faith had lost her battle at 2 years and 2 months old to congenital heart disease. The news was devastating.
FRI. 12/24/10
Hubs was getting out of bed and accidentally knocked over a lamp in our bedroom breaking a light bulb. Big deal, you might say, but unfortunately it turned out to be one. We had used one of those new CFL energy efficient squiggly light bulbs in that lamp, and what neither of us knew, is that when you break one there is an 11 step cleanup process required by the EPA to rid your house of dangerous mercury vapor. Of course I was sitting right there when the light bulb broke, and neither of us knew until I googled it, that we should have immediately evacuated and ventilated the room before starting cleanup (Hubs had gone about gathering the broken glass the old fashioned way.)
Per instructions by poison control he cleaned up the mess, but we were told then that because it had been broken on carpet, there would be no way to fully clean the mercury without removing our wall to wall carpeting and replacing it... GREAT. I am all for saving the environment - I donate to land groups. I recycle. That being said, there are no words for how pissed off I feel at the expense that we have had to undergo this last week over a broken 50 cent light bulb.
I called my OB and informed him of my exposure to the mercury vapor, and he told me to come in a few days later to have my blood mercury levels checked to be sure the babies hadn't been harmed.
SAT. 12/24 -Christmas postponed due to mom's illness. Our family celebrates Christmas Eve, so this was a real bummer. Hubs and I spent two sleepless nights in our guest bedroom. I always thought this bed was fairly comfortable, and maybe it is normally, but when pregnant with twins, it is just not getting the job done.
SUN. 12/25 - Merry Christmas. Headed down to see my parents and some family friends, and to get away from my mercury biohazard house since I wasn't allowed to go into my bedroom still. The state's EPA had recommended pregnant women staying away for "several days." We had a nice Christmas Day and finally a good night's sleep.
MON. 12/26 - Hubs left me at my parent's house and headed back to ours with my brother in law to move all the furniture out of our bedroom and rip up the affected carpeting. They came back to my parents house that evening and our family ate spaghetti and meatballs (the kind of meatballs you get in a bag from your grocery store). Not me, I ate spaghetti - no meatballs. Same goes for my sister. This is relevant. Hubs started to not feel too well overnight.
TUES. 12/27 - Hubs wakes up non stop vomiting. Can't hold anything down. I go downstairs to find my brother in law, niece, and nephew, all of whom ate the same thing, are also non stop sick. My sister has a broken leg, so she sort of had her hands tied being stuck on the couch, and my parent's weren't home (my mother had a funeral to attend for a former co-worker.) I did my best to help out, and most especially to get help to hubs, but as you all know I have been on bedrest for four months, and so every trip up and down the stairs is agony.
I called the doctor who tells me I have to get hubs to the ER. I have no way to do this on bedrest, and try to reach my parents. No luck. Hubs continues to be violently ill. I start leaking what I believe to be fluid. My niece starts projectile vomiting. My brother, who is trying to get his strength to drive hubs to the ER can't move, and is laid out on the ground like a wounded soldier.
You get the picture.
This was NOT a pretty scene.
I checked on hubs who was sheet white, and decided to call an ambulance to get him. Luckily, just as I was doing this, my mother walked in the door and was able to take him to an urgent care center closer to their home. For the next two hours, hubs was given over 2 liters of fluids to replenish him. Luckily no one else needed to be brought in for fluids.
We will never know for sure what caused the illness, but I think I am staying off frozen meatballs permanently just in case.
WED. 12/28 My mom takes me to the OB to have an appointment. Both snowflakes are head down - yay! and I have my blood drawn for the mercury test. I don't know how he finds the energy for it, but hubs and my dad head back up to our house and start to install hardwood floors in our bedroom. They stay overnight.
THUR. 12/29 We attend Faith's wake. It was absolutely beautiful. The strength my cousin displayed throughout the day leaves me in awe. I am two years into my grief, and remember how those early days felt, and honestly, I don't know how she does what she does. She amazes me. The wake was beautiful but I started to have some really terrible contractions. At around 6:30 I asked my mother to take me home. By the time we got home, I started getting sick from the contractions. I took a warm shower, hoping that would ease my muscles (I figured I overdid it being at the funeral) and know the water was warm but I was freezing. I step out of the shower to find that my hands are turning blue. I am totally freezing. I crawl into bed and everything hurts - my hair, my eyes, my teeth. I spike a fever of 101 and stay there for the next two days, too sick to even attend Faith's funeral on Friday, which is devastating for me. The fever made me really sick, I couldn't keep anything down. I asked the OB if he thought it was a stomach bug and he said no, that vomiting etc is my pregnant body's reaction to the fever. He tells me he thinks that I have picked up the flu.
Again, where is that bubble for me to live in when I need it?
FRI. 12/31 & SAT. 1/1 A bit of a blur. I do know hubs woke me up to have me see the ball drop. Finally, sometime between Saturday and Sunday, my fever breaks.
SUN. 1/2 I was feeling pretty good but still unable to eat anything. Hubs headed back home to our house to try to get the hardwood floors in the bedroom and upstairs hallway done so I could come home. Sunday night I started having contractions every five minutes. I tell the babies this is not time for them to come - our house is a catastrophe - there is furniture in every room that has been moved around to make room for the hardwood floors, and we had a new washer and dryer which hubs was supposed to be able to have installed on his week off (obviously didn't happen because of the other things going on) that are taking up the center of our living room. I tell them that I am going to sleep, and if they need me to wake me up, but it would really be better for everyone involved if they could hang out a little longer.
MON. 1/3 I wake up completely surprised to find that I have not gone into labor over night. Hubs calls to say that he is finishing up the floor, and should get me by 2PM. 2 comes, 3 comes, 4 comes. At 7PM I get a call that goes like this:
Hubs: Remember that time when I sawed through my toe?
Me: You mean when we were camping?
Hubs: Yeah.
Me: Yeah I remember... why?
Hubs: Well, I did that again. Just this time with my hand. I think I need to go to the ER.
Yeah, four stitches and a tetanus shot later, hubs came to get me from my parents house. We finally got home at around 10:30PM. We went to bed in the guest room (still no furniture in the bedroom) and I didn't sleep at all. Apparently 30 weeks is when you completely cease being able to breathe or get comfortable with twins.
TUES. 1/4 Exhausted all day but hopeful that things are turning up.
TODAY - Woke up with a painful sinus infection.
I give up!
PS - A LITTLE HOUSEKEEPING NOTE: If you have been following my dear friend Birni's story at the blog All The Little Ponies, and have noticed taht you can no longer access it, please send her a note at birni@cybergal.com and she will add you as a follower. Because of some IRL drama, Birni has had to go private, but she would still love those in this community to be able to follow along.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)