What’s next?

Has it really been two and a half years since I’ve posted anything to this blog? I purchased the domain for this site several years ago, I when I was writing regularly. It’s a small yearly fee and it makes the URL easier to remember and share. My domain comes up for renewal every October, and for the last two years it’s been an unpleasant reminder that I’ve neglected something that was once a big part of me. Writing has always been my coping mechanism for life’s Big Things. And I think we can all agree this last year especially has been full of Big Things.

So much has happened over the past year, and at many points I’ve wished I’d thought to document how it’s affected our family. Parenting a preemie in a pandemic has meant we’ve had to lock down tighter than most of our friends and family. In many ways, the emotional isolation has been harder than the physical isolation, as few people understand our level of caution. But having seen Emmett ravaged by RSV and even common colds, we know too well how illnesses go straight to his lungs. And unless you’ve experienced the trauma of seeing your child on a ventilator, it’s hard to explain how you just don’t take chances with something that could put him back on one. His pulmonologist warned us that while most kids who contract Covid have mild cases or are even asymptomatic, Emmett would likely not be one of them. She urged us to take extra precautions, and as a result, our quarantine has lasted well beyond when our friends and family widened their bubbles and much of the country declared they weren’t going to let this virus run their lives. Unfortunately for us, the more everyone else relaxed their restrictions, the more dangerous the world around us became for Emmett, and the deeper we were forced to retreat to keep him safe.

I feel hope now that vaccines are rolling out, though we’re likely at least several months out from a pediatric vaccine. Dave and I have been vaccinated, as have our parents and many of our friends, so for the first time in a year we’ve been able to get out a little more and socialize with vaccinated people at least!

The optimism I’ve felt these last few months has lifted a weight from my shoulders and I’ve been able to turn my attention to a project I started a couple years ago: I’m writing a book!

Wow, my hands just got all clammy. Every time I share this out loud to anyone, feelings of imposter syndrome wash over me and self-doubt creeps in. Writing a book has always been on my bucket list. I always figured I’d write a novel in my retirement or something, but then life dropped a little 1 lb. 14 oz. trauma into my lap nearly five years ago, and after several people urged me to write a book about our experience, and seeing just how much this blog has helped other preemie parents cope, I’m finally doing it. I started it two years ago, and then stalled out last year because I just couldn’t stomach revisiting a traumatic point in my life while I was stressed with a new traumatic event. I finally picked it up again earlier this year, with more determination than ever.

It’s been a lot of work, turning the daily stream-of-consciousness I’d hammered out each night after much stress and little sleep into a work of prose someone might actually pay money to read. But I’m finally “done” writing the book. I use “done” in quotation marks because I’m always finding something new to revise, and will likely go through a few rounds with an editor before all is said and done. I’m currently in the process of pitching literary agents, in hopes of landing a deal with a publisher. I’ve decided to try the traditional publishing route first with self-publishing as a backup plan, knowing how competitive the publishing game is, and that securing a memoir, in particular, can be next to impossible unless you’re a celebrity.

There’s an old French proverb: vouloir, c’est pouvoir — “to want, is to be able.” If there’s one thing Emmett has taught me, it’s that even when the odds are stacked against you, there’s a way.

Stay tuned for updates!

Find your tribe. Love them hard.

I need to take a moment to talk about how appreciative I am of my tribe.

I’m referring to my circle of mom friends. They come from all areas of my life — from old friends who happened to become moms too, to other moms I’ve met along the way who have became friends. I actually married into some of my closest mom relationships. D has a very close-knit group of friends, many of whom were his fraternity brothers in college — and a few he’s known even longer than that — and over the years I’ve become friends with many of the wives. As fate would have it, we all ended up having kids around the same time, and it’s been great to have a built-in network for playdates. Kids’ birthday parties tend to have very large guest lists in our circle.

Last weekend, some of these married-into mom friends and I went away for a girls’ weekend (sans kids), and I can honestly say it was one of the best weekends I’ve had in a long time. We drank way too much wine, stayed up way too late, and I know we at least attempted to sleep in, but since we’re all moms, of course we were all wide awake by 7 a.m. I’ve never laughed, cried, and cried from laughing so much in one weekend. It was so good for the soul.

The best part? While us moms were getting a much-needed break, the all the dads got the kids together and I’m pretty sure the kids had one of the best weekends of their lives too.

A few months ago, I had to go to Washington, D.C. for work. I’m part of a Facebook mom group with moms all across the country (and beyond), and had the opportunity to meet up with several who happened to live in the area (plus one who traveled for the meet-up opportunity!). Even though it was the first time many of us had met in person, it felt like catching up with old friends. This group of mom friends is particularly special to me because I “met” them online when I was pregnant with Emmett and we all had babies due in August. When Emmett was unexpectedly born three months early, I nearly left the group because I didn’t feel like I belonged anymore. But they were so supportive of our situation and I’m so glad I stuck around because I do not know what I’d do without them now.

Last night we had some friends over for dinner (part of the former fraternity family crowd). Their twin girls are about a year younger than T and two years older than E, and the kids just all get along together so well. We joke that T and the one twin are getting married one day, and the other twin is always so doting over E. We’ve sort of accidentally fallen into a Sunday night dinner routine with these friends, but instead of your typical dinner party where you might try to impress with fancy meals, it’s often simple grilled meat and veggies or frozen lasagna — but then the adults break out the good wine while the kids play. Because nothing beats sharing a good bottle of wine with friends.

I don’t know what I’d do without my mom tribe. Parenting is just so damn hard and these friends are my lifeline. Sometimes you need the friends who will tell you you’re not a failure when you admit your baby rolled off the couch once. Or who won’t bat an eye when you pour that third glass of wine and suggest the kids all watch a movie because it’s been THAT kind of week.

Thank you to my mom tribe. You know who you are and you keep me sane.

Coping.

I’ve been incredibly neglectful of this poor blog. I really do miss writing and I often think I should make a point to write more, athough I’m sure I’ve lost all the readers I once had. Even though life was crazy while E was in the NICU, I spent so much time just sitting in the hospital not being able to do anything, so writing was a great emotional outlet. Now life is a whole new kind of crazy, and self-care tends to take a back seat.

In one week, Emmett will be two, and much like last year, I’m increasingly more anxious and weepy as the anniversary of his birth draws nearer. Compounding my anxiety around his birthday, E has also had a tough year, medically. Some days it feels like prematurity is just … haunting us. He is such an amazing little boy, and I’m so aware of how much worse things could be, but every new diagnosis, every new specialist referral, every new modification we have to make to our lives … I’m just drowning. Most of all, I just want him to be normal and healthy, and it always feels like normalcy is right beyond our reach. I live in fear over what’s next.

In the past year, E has had three surgeries (ear tubes, adenoids and tonsil removal), and we’re facing the possibility of another surgery this year on his throat to correct his aspiration. We had another swallow study a few months ago and learned he’s aspirating thin liquids, so we have to thicken everything he drinks (even water) with these special gel packets. Because of his aspiration and ongoing breathing issues, we were referred to the aerodigestive program at Seattle Children’s (coordinated pulmonary, otolaryngology, nutrition and OT/PT care), and we have our first appointment next month. While it sucks to know his issues are severe enough to qualify us for this program, I’m actually looking forward to the idea of coordinated care, versus all the individual specialist appointments we’ve been having. We had a repeat sleep study a couple months ago and learned the sleep apnea he was diagnosed with last fall was mostly corrected with his tonsillectomy, though we may be facing a third sleep study because he still has mild apnea (it was mild enough they didn’t recommend any treatment, though). What else… we just found out a few weeks ago he needs leg braces, and he’s also allergic to peanuts. That last one probably has nothing to do with prematurity, but it’s just. One. More. Thing. We now carry an epi pen wherever we go.

I have been a part of a preemie parent support group since Emmett was born, and I’ve been going to more meetings lately in an effort to better cope with everything. One of the group leaders brought up an interesting point at our last meeting that I try to remember on days I’m feeling down about our situation. She said as preemie parents it’s easy to think, if only he’d been born full term, everything would be fine. But we can’t assume that’s the case. I don’t know why I went into labor early, but maybe there’s a reason my body kicked him out, and things could have been catastrophic if he’d stayed in any longer. Full-term babies can face complications too, and losing a baby later in pregnancy or in childbirth would certainly be worse than what we’ve endured. It’s kind of a morbid way of thinking, but the point is, you can’t assume things would have been better had they gone differently. There are just too many unknowns.

Speaking of NICU support, I finally completed all my vaccinations and volunteer paperwork, had my hospital orientation this week and will get to start volunteering in the NICU on the parent advisory board in a few weeks! I have so many mixed emotions about going back and I know it will be hard at times, but I’m mostly looking forward to being able to help other parents the way this group helped me.

Last weekend we participated in the March of Dimes’ March for Babies event and it really reinforced just how important the preemie community has become to me. Two years ago I had no idea this community existed, but now it’s such a huge part of who I am. We met up with a family who had been across the hall from us during most of our NICU stay, I caught up with a girl from my sorority I hadn’t seen since college whose 23-weeker is still fighting in the NICU (stay strong, Daisy!), and I filled out a couple butterflies for my friend who lost her twin boys last fall. The whole event was just really inspiring, emotinal and fulfilling to participate in. With that, I’ll leave you with a few photos from the event.

Family photo before the walk

Emmett and his NICU “roomie.”

Playing with a balloon sword before the walk.

Butterfly garden for babies remembered.

Countdown to D-day B-day.

We’re less than two weeks away from Emmett’s first birthday, and every day brings a growing feeling of dread. Logically, it doesn’t make any sense. He’s doing really well, all things considered, and it’s not like anything bad is going to happen on his first birthday or anything. It should be a happy day. But I suppose this is just part of the PTSD experience — and from what I gather from other preemie moms — normal, even.

I have this app on my phone called Timehop. Most of the time I love it. It shows you pictures you took or things you posted to social media this time last year and every year it has access to. It’s been fun to revisit baby photos of Theo or to see some of the ridiculous thoughts that occupied my mind eight years ago that I somehow thought all of Facebook needed to know. But you know what’s been popping up lately from this time last year? Pregnancy photos. Casual, breezy selfies I snapped in the bathroom at work, or in front of the mirror in our bedroom. And while I rarely take selfies normally, I’ve always felt an uncharacteristic sense of body confidence while pregnant, and found myself admiring and snapping photos of my growing bump quite often.

And so it’s weird to juxtapose last year’s carefree photos with my current state of anxiety. It’s haunting to see these photos now, knowing what was about to happen. I had no idea my world was about to come crashing down while exploding with love, all at the same time. Oblivious that I was about to embark on the hardest year of my life. Unaware I would soon come to think of a hospital room as home and that I would create familial bonds with the caregivers who held my son’s life in their hands.

I also find myself reopening Pandora’s Box with the whys. We were told my preterm labor was unexplained, and that we’d probably never know why it happened. For the first couple weeks, that bothered me a lot. And then we got preoccupied with other life or death matters (literally) and I was able to push the questions out of my mind. But I find myself asking why a lot more again these days. Was it the fertility treatments? Did all the medications I took to prevent me from miscarrying again trigger something else that caused labor? Was there some connection medically between the losses and the preterm labor? My OB says no, but that seems hard to believe. Did I work out too much or too hard? I was really into barre while pregnant and took pride in the strength and flexibility I was capable of, even as I got bigger and my center of gravity shifted. Did I overdo it hosting Theo’s birthday? I remember my back hurt really badly that evening, and that was just a week before Emmett was born. Was it the pedicure I got just three days before Emmett arrived? I’ve heard there are acupressure points on your foot that are supposed to induce labor and that sometimes women who are overdue will get a pedicure or foot massage in hopes of kick starting labor. Could any of these things have triggered it? And the reciprocal question that haunts me: is there anything I could have done to prevent it?

So many questions that I’ll probably never have the answers to.

Sweet, naive me.

7 months old

True to form, this seven-month update is closer to his eight-month birthday. But at least the photo was taken at exactly seven months. Time is flying and this little man has become such an important part of our lives. I’m so proud of him and how far he’s come.

Adjusted age: 4 months

Stats: 13.4 lbs. and 25.5 inches

Milestones: rolling like crazy. Babbling with consonants. Really wants to crawl! Theo was an early crawler at six months, and I won’t be surprised if Emmett crawls by six months adjusted (which would be nine months actual).

Sleeping: Still waking up 1-2 times most nights. Naps are getting more substantial and consistent – usually around 3 per day: one long one mid-day with a shorter one in the morning and late afternoon.

Eating: Nursing is going well, despite some supply issues (more on that later). He’s taking about 3.5 oz per bottle at daycare, still fortified with NeoSure, and then we’re pretty much exclusively nursing at home. I don’t even bring backup bottles with me anymore, which is so nice.

Personality: Still the happiest baby I’ve ever met. He’s been sick a lot since he started daycare, but even that doesn’t get him down. Pretty much the only time he cries is when he’s hungry. He gets a little fussy and needy in the evenings before bed, but that’s easily remedied by just holding him. I think after a long day at daycare he’s just a little tired and probably misses us.

Likes: Being tickled. His neck is especially ticklish and sometimes when I’m getting him dressed, just pulling his shirt over his head sends him into a fit of giggles. I need to capture this on video one of these days. He also adores his big brother. Anything T does is basically the most hilarious thing he’s ever seen. The bond these two already have is honestly my favorite part of being a mom.

Dislikes: Saline and suction. Because he’s been sick so much we’ve had to give him saline drops and suction out his nose. He really fights it, and he’s freakishly strong. But after I’m done he’s back to his happy self.

Mama: As I briefly mentioned earlier, I’ve been battling some milk supply issues, and it’s been stressing me out (which I have heard can also affect your supply, but I have yet to figure out how to break THAT cycle!). It all started when I got mastitis a couple months ago. Then it dipped again when I got my period, but seemed to recover. But then it plummeted again. There are times when I get ONE ounce total (from both sides) in a pumping session. And even on a normal day, I’m not making enough to send with him to daycare the next day. I’m thankful I have such a huge freezer stash, and truthfully it’s good to have an excuse to use that before it all goes bad. But the low pump output made me worry that I might not be producing enough to exclusively nurse while we’re home together. I mean, if I’m only pumping an ounce in a session sometimes, that’s obviously not enough for a full meal for him. But I had also heard that babies are more efficient than a pump, and that pump output isn’t necessarily indicative of what you’re producing. So I rented a baby scale from the breastfeeding center at the hospital for a couple weeks and weighed him before and after feeding just like when we were back in the NICU. And while there were definitely times he didn’t eat much, I noticed he would usually make up for it at the next feeding. I’m assuming this is all normal (after all, my appetite varies throughout the day too), and it was reassuring to see he’s probably nursing enough. I still find it depressing when I have a sucky pumping session, but I’m not as worried about his intake anymore. The real test will be at his next appointment, whether he’s still following his growth curve.

Here are some photos since our last update:

Bizarro world.

Yesterday, in an attempt to start clearing space for when E eventually comes home, I listed our futon on our local Buy Nothing group. A nice family with two cute but rambunctious boys came to pick it up. Watching the boys interact with each other and get into mischief while their parents loaded up the futon, I smiled and told the mom I have two young boys and felt like I was getting a preview. Immediately, I wished I hadn’t said anything. Naturally, she asked how old my boys are. I briefly hesitated, then told her I have a three year-old and a newborn. When she asked how new, I told her he was almost three weeks old, as feelings of shame began to wash over me. I felt like I was somehow lying. I wasn’t in the mood for anyone’s pity at the moment, but in leaving out the full story I felt like a complete fraud. Because I don’t really feel like I have two boys yet. Emmett doesn’t quite feel like ours yet. And that made me sad, because I do have two boys and I felt guilty for feeling otherwise.

I wonder how long it will take to get used to these types of feelings. I know even once he’s home he’s not going to look like a typical three month-old. He’ll look more like a newborn. I’ve mentioned before that preemies usually go by two ages — actual and adjusted — until they’re around two years old. I recently joined a couple preemie Facebook groups and someone had asked the question a few days ago: “what do you tell strangers when they ask how old your baby is?” Interestingly, a lot of parents responded that they just tell strangers the adjusted age when they don’t feel like fielding the “but he’s so small!” comments or explaining that their baby was born premature.

It’s weird feeling like we don’t really fit in anywhere. We’re new parents, but not dealing with typical new parent stuff. We have a three week-old, but he’s more like a negative-11 week old. We’re bringing home a new baby in August, but I’m not pregnant.

When I was pregnant with Theo, I joined an online “birth month club” to talk with moms who had babies due around the time Theo was. This group eventually spun off into a private Facebook group and some of those moms are among my closest friends today, more than three years later. It’s been great to navigate all those milestones — from feeding, to sleep training, to talking, to tantrums, to preschool — with fellow moms in the trenches. I had hoped to find something similar when I was pregnant with Emmett. But all those August moms are still pregnant and I don’t belong there anymore. My world is suddenly completely different from theirs. But I don’t belong in a world with other babies born in May, either. We’re in this weird alternate universe. The preemie Facebook groups have helped some, but everyone’s story is so different, and they’re all at various stages (some are still in the NICU like us, while some have older children now). And while the success stories are inspiring, the cases where children have gone on to have significant physical or cognitive delays are discouraging. It’s a double-edged sword and I can’t decide whether these groups are more helpful or harmful to me at this stage.

The hospital has its weekly NICU parent support group tonight and I’m planning to attend again. It’s not always very well attended, but I’m hoping I can start to connect with other parents. But again, every story is SO different, even among current NICU parents. Theo has always been so textbook when it comes to milestones and funny toddler quirks, and I’m finding this experience very isolating without the “me too” moments.

As long as he’s okay, I’m okay.

Predictably, we get asked a lot: “how are you doing?” My answer is usually, “we’re okay.” And it’s true. We’re okay. Not great – this isn’t an ideal situation, no matter how you spin it. But I’m acutely aware of how much worse it could be. And that fearful day I was in labor by myself, I definitely pictured all the worst case scenarios. I was mentally prepared to say goodbye.

But as it turns out, Emmett is a NICU rock star. The doctors and nurses all say so. All of his “setbacks” so far have been minor, and par for the course for a baby born before he even reached the third trimester. So while I can’t help but hold my breath with every desat and feel like my heart stops with every brady, it’s completely unreasonable to expect a micro-preemie to regulate his oxygen levels or heart rate on his own. The doctors have every expectation he’ll grow out of this as he gets bigger and stronger, and by the time his original due date rolls around, he should be a fairly normal infant, just three months behind what his actual age says. Most preemies go by two ages, actual and adjusted, until they’re about two years old, by which point they usually “catch up” to their actual age.

That said, I’m aware that things can change on a dime. As I’ve mentioned multiple times, the NICU mantra is two steps forward, one step back. So far we’re more like three or four steps forward for every step back, but I know that may not always be the case. There may even be days where we are taking more steps back than forward and so I’m trying to temper my optimism with a good deal of caution. People keep telling us how strong we are, but I can’t take credit for that — it’s only because Emmett is so strong. If there comes a day where we take some major steps back, I might not be okay. But until then, I keep repeating: as long as he’s okay, I’m okay.

We can handle anything as long as he’s okay.

Mother of sons.

Today is Mother’s Day. T is napping, D is cleaning up after part one of our two-part birthday party for T yesterday (more on that in another post!), and I’m sitting on the couch, feeling baby kick. It’s hard to believe I’m about to be a mom of two boys. I think often about what it will be like — with two kids, and both of them boys! Will life be twice as crazy as it is now? Will baby #2 be like a mini-T or will they be polar opposites? I’m excited to find out.

Interestingly, I’ve found myself almost defending our excitement when I tell people we’re having a second boy. I’ll be honest, I’ve never really understood the concept of “gender disappointment.” Maybe it’s because we’ve had such a rocky road building our family that I take nothing for granted. Maybe it’s the practical side of me that knows any time you have a baby, you’ve got a 50/50 shot at either sex. But I’ve been amazed at the way many people act almost sympathetic when I tell them we’re having another boy. The receptionist at T’s haircut place actually said to me the other day “Oh. Well I hope you’re still excited.” Huh? Of course I’m still excited.

Sure, when we found out we were having another boy there was a small part of me that briefly acknowledged the finality of the fact that I’ll never have a daughter. We are D-O-N-E after this. But any sense that I might be missing out by not having a girl was immediately overshadowed by the joy in finding out we are having another boy! There’s just something about finding out the sex of your baby that makes everything feel infinitely more real. You begin picturing what they might look like. You start thinking seriously about names. You feel one step closer to actually “knowing” your baby. And let’s face it, if T is any indication, we make pretty awesome boys.

But inevitably, the first question people ask is, “will you try again for a girl?” Try again? Like we got it wrong this time? First of all, we would have just as much of a chance of having a third boy — maybe even higher, according to some theories. And I’ve always only wanted two kids. But let’s say we did try again. How would our second boy feel if he found out the only reason he was the middle child was because he didn’t have a vagina? That his parents felt the need to try again because he wasn’t quite what they wanted? I’m being dramatic. I know parents don’t tell their children they wish they had been born the opposite sex (at least I hope not!), but when did everyone determine “one of each” was the ultimate goal?

Truthfully, I’m looking forward to being a mom of two boys. From a practical standpoint, we already have the clothes, gear, toys. And our boys can share a room, which makes things easier from a space perspective. But more importantly, I can’t wait to see how they are with each other. While they aren’t as close in age as we would have preferred, they’ll still be close enough to play together, and will probably have an unbreakable bond. I know our younger son will look up to Theo in a way only a little brother can.

I also must say, that while I don’t know any different, being a boy mom is pretty special. Boys tend to love their moms fiercely. Theo blazes through life a million miles a minute, but always takes the time to give me a hug or kiss, or to tell me he loves me. And while it’s exhausting being the one he usually calls to first, there’s something sweet about how he wants me to comfort him in the night when he’s scared, and asks for me first thing in the morning when he wakes up. He loves his dad too, and I don’t mean to downplay their bond, but their bond is just different. Talking to other boy moms, I think this is a pretty common dynamic between boys and moms.

And, let’s face it, I’d be lying if I didn’t mention the fact that I’m happy to bypass the teenage girl drama. I know I’m grossly overgeneralizing, but I was a dramatic and emotional teenager and karma would surely come back to bite me if I’d had a girl. I’ll settle for being my three nieces’ favorite aunt and will leave the hard stuff to their parents!

On a more serious note, I’m both looking forward to, and overwhelmed with the responsibility of raising these boys to be good men. They say you can tell a lot about a man’s potential as a husband by the way he treats his mother, and I’m honored that I get to play such a huge role in preparing them for their future wives (if they choose to go that route). And some day I hope to be the type of mother-in-law who will love my daughters-in-law as my own children. I have had the bar set high by two pretty great mothers-in-law, myself.

Yes, I’m feeling blessed to be a mom of two boys.

Stuff.

One of the greatest things about having another boy is that we really don’t need much “stuff” this time around. We saved all the big items from T, like his car seat, swing, and bouncer. And we saved most of his clothes too, so we are pretty well set! Fortunately, the weather here in the PNW is pretty mild most of the year, so we shouldn’t even have to worry too much about the boys being born in different seasons, though we’ll evaluate as baby #2 grows and we see what fits and what we need. Poor kid is going to be dressed 99% in brother’s hand-me-downs (such is the life of a second child!). Fortunately, big brother has pretty good taste in clothes (*ahem).

There are a few items we’ll need, so I did start a registry on Amazon. It’s mostly my own shopping list — plus Amazon gives registrants a 15% off “completion discount” where you can buy anything off your registry yourself in a single purchase to snatch up any last-minute stuff, up to 60 days prior to your due date. And we’ve also had a few people ask us for ideas. Even though we aren’t anticipating a baby shower this time around, it’s nice to have somewhere to point people who would want to get the baby something regardless.

For this second baby, we’ve found we need stuff for generally one of four reasons:

  1. Duplicates of things T is still using (sound machine, second camera for our monitor, etc.)
  2. Replacements for things that have worn out over the years (e.g., bottle nipples, new crib mattress, new pump parts)
  3. Things that get used up (diapers, diaper cream, breast milk storage bags, etc.)
  4. And then a few “nice-to-haves” — things I wished we’d had the first time around (like a Rock n Play or a snuggle nest), or things that might make life with two easier, like a nice baby carrier, a sit and stand stroller, or a bigger diaper bag.

For anyone reading who may be preparing for the birth of a second baby, here’s what’s on our list, broken down by category:

  • Diapering:
    • newborn diapers (we’ll reuse most of T’s cloth diapers once baby fits in them around 2 months)
    • diaper rash cream
    • new diaper bag (the one we used for T was a little on the small side)
  • Feeding:
    • bottle brush
    • Soothies gel pads
    • bottle nipples
    • pump replacement parts (new membranes, tubing, etc.)
    • Medela quick clean micro steam bags
    • lanolin
    • breastmilk storage bags
  • Bathing:
    • hooded towel
    • washcloths
    • bath sponge (the kind they lay on in the sink)
  • Sleeping:
    • new crib mattress
    • new PNP mattress
    • snuggle nest
    • a couple of Woombies
  • Gear:
    • Tula carrier
    • Rock n Play
    • Sit and stand stroller
  • Misc:
    • new nail clippers
    • sound machine
    • humidifier
    • second camera for our monitor

It’s a pretty small list, compared to all we needed to get ready for T! Definitely not feeling as stressed about being ready this time around. The biggest thing we need to do now, though, is get T’s big boy room ready since baby will be taking over the nursery. But that’s a post for another day…

Heavily medicated.

I’m starting to feel like the Collette Reardon character from Saturday Night Live with how many times I’ve been to the pharmacy in the last couple weeks.

SNL_1070_07_Update_3_Collette_Reardon

As I mentioned in my last post, my doctor has recently started me on a few medications to help my body do a better job at keeping this baby. I’m on so many meds right now — many of which need to be taken at different times — that it’s getting hard to keep track of everything. I actually had to go buy one of those “days of the week” old lady pill cases and set alarms for myself just to keep everything straight. Here’s what a typical day looks like now:

6:00 a.m. – alarm goes off, take Synthroid (for low thyroid; must be taken an hour before eating)

7:00 a.m. – inject myself in the stomach with Heparin just before leaving for work (to prevent blood clots)

10:00 a.m. – phone alarm goes off, take Prometrium (for low progesterone; 12 hours before bedtime dose)

6:00 p.m. – eat dinner, take prenatal vitamin, DHA, extra folic acid (4 pills), B6 and B12 (for fetal health and pregnancy support; must be taken with food)

7:00 p.m. – second Heparin injection (12 hours after the first)

10:00 p.m. – second dose of Prometrium, just before bed

For anyone counting, that’s 11 pills plus two injections every single day. After the first trimester I should be able to stop the Prometrium, and I may be able to drop the Heparin at some point, depending on the results of my blood clotting disorder tests.

Speaking of tests. I had betas drawn again today. I’m happy to say my betas are at 315.3 (up from 91.4), so they’re still more than doubling. The doctor wants me back for one more draw on Wednesday, after which they’ll schedule me for my first ultrasound if my numbers are high enough. Also today, I had all my repeat loss testing done. 16 vials of blood in total. I was surprised I had any blood left and didn’t pass out walking out of the building. My poor arms look like those of a heroin addict from all the blood draws, not to mention the all the bruises that will soon be covering my stomach from the Heparin injections.

It’s a lot to handle, but I just keep saying – whatever it takes to bring this baby home. I’m reminded of a powerful image I saw recently of a sleeping baby surrounded by hundreds of syringes and vials, illustrating the journey through in-vitro fertilization. And while I know what we’re going through pales in comparison to IVF, I can certainly relate to the great lengths, pain, discomfort and money many couples go through in order to do what so many people take for granted.

syringe10n-1-web