Round Two

On February 20 I became mother to three babies at only 29 weeks gestation. They were born at only 2lb 7 oz, 2lb 9oz, and 1lb 10 oz.  Sorry that this post is rambley and confusing, but I will try to tell a quick summary of chaos of the last few months. One year ago we started the shots for our third and final IVF. As I sit here today I can’t quite wrap my mind around what exactly has happened since then. This year has been one of the most foggy, exciting, terrifying, and wonderful experiences. As I type this, my three beautiful babies sleep on the floor in front of me and I think back to the day they were born.I went the hospital because I just didn’t feel right. Said goodbye to the cats and told them I would be back in a couple of hours. Because surely the doctors would pat my knee and say everything was fine before sending me home. And that almost happened. After 40 minutes of monitoring our 3 little heartbeats the doctor did come in and say everything was fine. He just wanted 5 more minutes and then he’d send me home. Well Little Letter C our dear daughter decided to have some fun with the guy and let her heart rate dip dramatically twice. Only for a few seconds, but it was enough to get me admitted for the night just to be on the safe side. Dear Husband got me dinner and some trashy Hollywood magazines, before I sent him home. Why should we both suffer in uncomfortable hospital beds right? I settled in for the night with my magazines and a TV with crappy reception after turning the sound down on the fetal heart rate monitors - it can be quite loud with all 3 of them and one to measure any contractions. Soon afterwards I was interrupted by the doctor and 5 frantic nurses who came barging into my room. Without explanation they flipped my monstrous body on my back, covered my face with an oxygen mask, hooked me up to numerous IVs, and wheeled in an old ultrasound machine. The doctor scan my belly silently for what seemed like forever to a very terrified me. Finally he breathed a long sigh and said, “There it is.” Little Letter C was up to more shenanigans and upped the ante. I looked at the doctor and said, “I’m not going home again am I?” I settled in for a long hospital stay of bed rest that I had heard so much about from other triplet moms. But 2 days later at only 29 weeks, my body said enough (HELLP Syndrome the very worst of preeclampsia). I was warned that this could happen, but I was so naive. I really thought I would go to at least 34 weeks. Unfortunately I woke in the middle of the night to the worst pain ever and I have a very high tolerance for pain. I couldn’t breathe. It felt like someone was sitting on my chest - an 800 pound someone.  After many tests in machines that I didn’t have the energy to ask about, my two favorite doctors entered my room together. I knew it was over. 29 weeks and the babies were coming today.The C section was standard and I was able to be awake. I was much more frightened than I thought I would be. We ended up having about 16 people in the OR with another OR set up next door to which the babies would be brought for initial assessment. At 6:46, 6:47, 6:48 pm on February 20, 2007 our two daughters and son entered the world. My pregnancy was over and I was a mom. A mom to three extremely premature babies. A mom that was still in shock. A mom who had no idea what to do, to ask, or where to start navigating the NICU.While I wasn’t shown the babies right away in the OR, I was wheeled into the NICU on my recovery bed about an hour later. I was still pretty woozy and would like to say seeing my three little ones for the first time was a moving spiritual experience, but it wasn’t. I was lying flat on a gurney. My tiny babies were surrounded by nurses and doctors who moved aside for me to try to peek in their little incubators, but I could barely raise my head. I lied and said I could see them, but really all I saw were a couple of tiny bright red legs.Having a premature baby especially an extreme preemie brings out extreme emotions. Mainly guilt. I was the mom and it was my body that failed. My body failed me so many times when I was trying to get pregnant and it failed me again when trying to build healthy strong babies. I felt betrayed. Because my body failed, my precious little ones paid the price. It wasn’t fair that they entered the world so soon. It wasn’t fair that they had to be hooked to numerous IVs and oxygen, machines to help them breathe. Even their poor skin was so sensitive that we were barely aloud to touch them. On top of that was the guilt I felt for mourning my own loss. I mourned the abrupt end of my pregnancy. Selfish I know, but this was the only pregnancy I will ever have and I never got to enjoy it. I was afraid for so long. I just wanted to get to 28 weeks. I was finally at the point where I could relax and now it was over. I thought once I was pregnant, I would be able to look at pregnant women with happiness, but every day I passed pregnant women on my way through the birth center to the NICU. And every day I still felt sadness that that was no longer me. Plus I felt horrible for thinking about myself when all of my guilt really should have been with my babies. Our time in the NICU seemed to drag and speed by at the same time. There were some horrible moments that I will never forget and will never be able to remember without tears. On their 3 day of life receiving a middle of the night call (me in the hospital, husband at home) telling us our oldest daughter couldn’t breathe. She was being hooked to a special kind of vent. I hobbled my sore body down to the NICU about 200 yards. I should have asked a nurse to take me, but I just couldn’t. I arrived to see her tiny little chest vibrating and her ears covered with earmuffs to drown out the noise of the machine. It was horrible. I sat near her bed and sobbed.There was the time we were told our son had NEC (an infection in his intestines) and that he would not be able to eat for at least a week. We watched as he became so swollen from IV fluids that he could barely open his eyes. There was the time we were told our daughter had a brain bleed and there was nothing we could do but watch and see if it resolves itself (it did). There was the day we learned of our daughter’s minor heart defect.There were many many blood transfusions because their poor little bodies couldn’t make enough blood and struggled to breathe.On the other hand there were some beautiful moments. The first day I held our youngest daughter. She was so small. It was only Day 2 and the nurse looked me and asked if I was ready to hold her. I was shocked. You mean I can hold her already? They took her out of her incubator and placed her on my chest skin to skin and left her there for an hour. It was beautiful. Every ounce they gained was a celebration. Every increased feeding was a sign of hope. One day I entered our oldest daughter’s room to find her in a crib instead of an incubator. I could reach in and pick her up without the help of a nurse! There was the day they told me to bring in the car seats because it was almost time to go home.But probably one of the most important moments for me was the day I realized I could be a mom. It was at the end of my son’s NEC horror that I truly felt like a mom. For so long I had listened and asked questions but had always followed the doctor’s recommendations and felt like an outsider. But on this particular day, I didn’t. While surrounded by the medical team of about 10 during rounds I finally took charge. The doctors were explaining a certain slightly painful exam they wanted done, but it was too much. Too much for my little son who was just trying to fight off this stupid infection. Too much for my son who was on a vent since his body couldn’t seem to breathe on its own and fight an infection at the same time. Too much for my son who looked at my with such sad and hungry eyes.  Too much for me. I finally said, “No. Not my son, not today!” I refused the exam and gave a list of other things that would or would not be happening on this particular day. I think I surprised even the doctors. Of course it could be that I said all of this through a cascade of tears. But I knew at that moment I was the mom and I was calling all the shots. Not only was I making the decisions, I was finally comfortable in making them.Today we have been home for 3 months after spending over 2 months in the hospital. They are beautiful and incredibly healthy. We are only following one health issue for now - chronic lung disease - which is normal for extreme preemies. It simply means we must avoid all cold germs for this coming winter. Sadly if any of them get a cold we will need to return to the hospital. So for now we stay home only really leaving the house to go for walks and to my parents. It is hard sometimes not being able to show off the babies we have wanted for so long. But really it is also nice to hunkered down in our home and simply enjoy every moment with our new family. It has been such a long journey, but here we are. Yes here we are at the beginning of a whole new  adventure.

Well as if we didn’t have enough to think about right now, Husband decided to add a little piece of his own excitement on Thursday night. We climbed into bed around 7:00.  No not that kind of excitement unfortunately. We were all cozied in to watch My Name is Earl and the Office - two of my favorite shows. It was the best kind of relaxation - watching TV and talking about our day. Unfortunately relaxation was not in the cards. Soon after settling in, Husband had a rather lengthy seizure. Kind of unexpected considering he has never had a seizure in his life.

 Luckily I was there to catch him before he fell out of bed and was able to move him away from the other furniture. I had a student in the past who had seizures so was somewhat familiar with what to do, but was amazed at how much scarier a seizure looks on a 170 pound man that you love than a 70 pound student. The ambulance was just arriving as the seizure was ending and poor Husband started to come to only to find 6 strangers in our bedroom.

Spent 2 nights in the hospital, poor guy, before they were able to rule out anything serious. Turns out the seizure was most likely caused by the flu. Husband had the flu for the past 5 days and hadn’t been able to keep anything down causing his electrolytes to be extremely low. 2 days of IVs pumping him full of fluids, potassium, and magnesium fixed that. Now he’s feeling totally back to normal and I can tease him that he just needed a little extra attention. Really it scared the hell out of me. It’s amazing how much a trip to the hospital can remind you how much you love a person and couldn’t possibly live without them.

Sorry it has been a ridiculous amount of time since I last updated.  I’m not dead and no I didn’t abandon this sight.  Sadly my days look something like this:

6:00 - Get up and drag myself to work - sometimes bothered to shower, sometimes not so much

9:00 - Stare intently at computer and hope students think I’m working on something important while actually just napping with my eyes open

9:30 - Notice the aroma of school lunch being prepared even though I am no where near the kitchen. 

9:45 - Dig through purse to find $3.00 in change, because absolutely must have school sloppy joes even though I hate sloppy joes

9:50 - Wonder why I don’t teach 1st grade so I can have the 1st lunch time. Eat my snack in front of students while aimlessly trying to teach something.

12:00 - Inhale crappy sloppy joes and stare out window while wondering what would happen if I just didn’t pick my kids up from recess

1:00 - Realize that my kids have been silently reading for way longer than scheduled and quickly try to  catch up to where my lesson plans intended us to be

2:30 - Line up students so we can be the absolute first ones out of the school

2:35 - Feel horrible for being such a crappy teacher. Wonder how long I have to sit at my desk doing nothing before I can go home. Watch clock until 3:00. Leave building 30 minutes before I’m supposed to by sneaking out back door.

3:30 - Get home. Eat big bowl of Malt-O-Meal, because it’s all of a sudden food sent from heaven.

4:00 - Lay on couch, planning to watch Oprah.

7:00 - Wake up when Husband comes in. Realize never even found out Oprah’s topic of the day

7:15 - Eat dinner

7:30 - Go to Bed

I’m just so tired. When I’m not sleeping, I’m counting the time until I can sleep again. Sorry. The other downside of sleeping at least 12-14 hours a day is that nothing exciting happens to write about. Unless you count last night’s dream in which I was at Buckingham Palace wearing a wedding dress and stopped to ask Prince William where the bathroom was. Or a couple of weeks ago when I dreamt I ripped the shower curtain rod of the wall and was chasing Husband because I thought he had eaten my left-over mac and cheese.

Everything else here is going well. We had our nuchal translucency. Everything was normal. The best part was seeing the babies moving. I don’t know why, but I was totally unprepared for that. I promise I’ll update more soon. Today we’re at 13w2d. I’ve heard the energy returns in the 2nd trimester and I can’t wait!

A semi-close co-worker announced she was pregnant on Friday. More accurately I think she sang it loudly and often in the hallway. I found myself feeling incredibly irritated and the more irritated with her I became the more rotten I felt about myself. She is the first person who has announced since my positive results so I was annoyed that I found myself in the old pattern of jealousy. I’m finally where I dreamed to be and yet all the old feelings still lingered. I didn’t get.  

Maybe it was that she announced to EVERYONE less than 24 hours after peeing on a stick. Maybe it was that unlike us she didn’t even wait for the “good” first morning urine, but haphazardly tested mid-afternoon. Maybe it’s just because she’s a loud, obnoxious person. Maybe, but really I think it was the carefree, relaxed attitude she portrayed. She never used the word “if” even once.  

I realized that I still so mad at infertility. Infertility didn’t just rob me of the becoming pregnant in the much more pleasurable method that normal people use. Infertility stole my ability to relax and enjoy what I have longed for for so long. Infertility still follows me constantly hissing, “Don’t get too comfortable.” I hate that I clench my teeth every time I use the restroom expecting to see blood. I hate that my heart still races when I walk past the baby section in Target. I hate that 3 days after an ultrasound I resort to using the phrase “if I’m still pregnant.” I hate that every time we decide to share our news with another person we always end by explaining that this is a high-risk pregnancy and there are a number of things that could go wrong.  

Yesterday we had our first appointment with a perinatalogist. Looking at her picture on the hospital website, I was a little concerned. She looked old and out of date, so when a very hip 50-60ish lady bopped into our room, I was pleasantly surprised. She was absolutely wonderful!

We had to see this specific perinatalogist for our first appointment to talk about selective reduction. While Dr. Belgium didn’t encourage or discourage the procedure, he wanted us to just hear about it as an option. Husband and I have tried to keep an open mind, but came to the realization that it was not an option we were really willing to consider. That’s one of the reasons I loved this perinatalogist so much. As soon as we told her we weren’t really interested in selective reduction, she presented all the information in a way that supported and gave us even more confidence in our decision.

After talking for about an hour, we got to take another peek at the little buggers. All 3 seem to be doing well. I was even more in love with perinatalogist when she printed 4 copies of our ultrasound: one for me, one for husband, and one for each pair of grandparents. But one of the best parts was one our way out we passed a HUGE bulletin board filled with pictures of twins, triplets, quadruplets and even a few quints. All the babies in the pictures looked so happy and healthy. Not that I’ve decided to ignore all the possible things that could go wrong. You know me. I’m way too much of a pessimist for that! Sometimes I think I thrive on negative information. It was just that after all my worrying it was a relief to see that it is possible to have healthy triplets.

I don’t go back until October 23^rd to meet with a genetic counselor and possibly have some testing done. Does anyone know what an NT is or how it is performed? I was so information overloaded at the end that I didn’t really catch the full name of the test. We don’t have to have the test. It’s just an option.

I told my mother the truth yesterday, but that story will have to wait until next time!

But tomorrow brings what seems like a long awaited appointment. I’ll get to see my babies again and hopefully be told that everything still looks good, before Husband and I start our endless list of decisions to be made.

The clinic called on Tuesday to change the time (only by 15 minutes) of my COP. COP? It took me about 20 minutes to figure out what the hell COP stood for. Well today we went in for our Confirmation of Pregnancy ultrasound. It was the 2^nd time we have almost brought our doctor to tears. He confirmed our pregnancy all right. He confirmed it THREE TIMES! Yup. After 2 miserable failed IVF attempts, we literally ended up with all our eggs in one basket. Holy Shit – Triplets! Of course we knew it was a possibility, but it was such a small possibility. Husband and I are in total shock.

 Normally we would have to go back to the clinic one more time, but poor equally stunned doctor wants us to see a perinatal physician as soon as possible to discuss our risks and options. Should be interesting.

School started this week so I am just trying to get back into the old schedule. Every year starts the same with me missing last year’s class and wishing I could have them back. The first week always leaves me wondering if I will ever be able to connect with this new group of students. This year is no different – oh unless you count the devil’s spawn in the front row, and the other in the back row, and oh the other one sitting by the door, and a few more I am sure are lurking nearby waiting for me to let my guard down. We were warned about this incoming group of students, but I guess I should have been more prepared. Of course it doesn’t help that the first week of school consists of touchy feely get to know ya type activities. And in case you haven’t noticed I’m not really the touchy feely kind of girl. But hey, at least I’ve been kept busy. Hopefully this week will be better now that we are getting into the routine.

 On Tuesday I go in to have my progesterone level checked. Last week they reduced my shots. Supposedly my progesterone levels have always been pretty good, so I would imagine they’ll cut me off from the shots altogether pretty soon. I really haven’t had any pregnancy symptoms yet. I know it seems odd, but almost wish I had a little morning sickness just to reassure me that something’s still going on in there. The only symptom that is a constant is painfully sore breasts. Not much of a problem except that every morning a former student insists on bear hugging me. Rather sweet except for the fact that she throws herself at me leaving me wincing and my breasts throbbing for a good fifteen minutes.

 Our first ultrasound is scheduled for September 21^st. I’m still very uneasy. I took that whole day just in case it doesn’t go well.

After a horrible weekend of worrying, the clinic did reassure me this afternoon that yes, I am still pregnant confirmed by Dr. Belgium. Today’s BETA was 2547. Unfortunately I was driving in the worst possible location when I got the call (a bridge under construction with nowhere to pull over and very little room for error), so I wasn’t really able to ask any questions not that I would know what to ask. I have to go in again next week for another blood test. I’m sure I will start worrying about that next one starting tomorrow, but tonight I think I’ll take the day off. The bottles (one for me and one for Husband) of wine I had set out in preparation for bad news will go back into the cabinet for now.

I’m not quite sure what to think about our results. The nurse said they are “cautiously optimistic.” I don’t know what exactly that is supposed to mean. Am I suppose to be happy or a nervous wreck? My levels didn’t quite double from Wednesday to Friday. 1st BETA was 543 ( I guess that is on the high side?), but Friday’s was 897 (not double). I have to go back in on Tuesday for another blood test. I have a horrible sinking feeling that something is wrong. Any insight?