There was this perfect moment on Thanksgiving morning right after Alaine was born. The labor was over. The snow was falling. And I looked over into the isolette that had been sitting empty for 36 hours and saw this beautiful baby, wide-eyed, round head, pink cheeks. Perfection. A few moments later, she was laid on my chest and I was wholly overwhelmed with love.
I didn’t believe throughout my entire pregnancy that it could be real. That I could really have a perfect little person growing inside of me. Our miscarriage last year shook my confidence, and then the discovery of Tomas and the myriad of other ‘not quite right’ health issues that cropped up only shook me more. The only time that I truly waited with excited expectation was during and immediately following ultra-sounds. The rest of the time a large part of me was in a state of protective ambivalence. If I didn’t think about what was at stake, or at least if I didn’t fully grasp the reality of it, maybe if I lost it, it wouldn’t hurt so much.
As we prepared more and more for the birth of baby, taking precautions that startled me and made me face the reality that this pregnancy was unique and that this labor and delivery would have to be too, made me feel more secure in some ways, and more frightened in others.
And then there was our luck that ran through to the end.
We were scheduled to go in to begin the induction on Monday the 22nd. I got myself as mentally ready as I could for that, and when Monday dawned, I had on my game face.
Then it started snowing…. And snowing…. And snowing. It didn’t stop. We read weather reports. We watched news. I called my doctor and asked what to do. The first answer I got surprised me: Just wait til next week. Next WEEK?! Didn’t we have a PLAN here? I wasn’t sure where my doctor was coming from. We’d had this plan the whole time—Induce early. IT was a plan that I had to work pretty hard to wrap my head around as I got used to the ‘wait and go late’ process with Carolyn and Abigail.
When I was finally able to speak to my doctor I was relieved that she told me that they wanted to get me in as soon as it was safe. The plans and the reasoning behind them hadn’t changed, but our physical safety on the road to Seattle was also being taken into account. She said if we found a window, to come in.
Tuesday it was clear and cold. By the afternoon, even the unpracticed methodology of the state of Washington’s DOT was able to clear the roads enough for us to feel ok about going in. So we did.
On the way, Andy noticed the steering wheel was pulling to the left. When we got to the parking garage we saw that we had an extremely underinflated tire.
That’s right. We basically got a flat tire on the way to the hospital.
We went to the cafeteria to eat some really bad cafeteria food once we got there to give L&D a chance to get ready for us and then we were admitted to our room. All of the stress got to me at that point. The room didn’t feel right. My gown didn’t fit right. Nothing felt comfortable and I knew I was going to be there for a while and I sobbed. Andy got me put back together and I got my head back in the game, but there for a second, I was beside myself.
The induction…. The induction was awful. Maybe I’m a weenie, though having gone through two previous births with no meds at all, I don’t think so. But it was awful. They placed the medication that was supposed to help my cervix ripen and almost immediately I was in pain. I also started having contractions. I had them all night the first night. I was able to breathe through them, but there was no denying that they hurt and they most certainly FELT like labor to me. I had them all day the next day and then on into the evening before it was officially deemed that I was ‘in early labor.’ The whole first 24 hours, I was convinced I was going to be sent home. I wasn’t making progress (I kept thinking, “I never make progress, how will we know if this is any different than my other ‘early labor processes.”). I asked question after question of nurses and doctors about whether my body could do this given the way it normally labors. I relied on the gentle counsel of the labor and delivery nurses who took care of me—and all of them were superb. They listened to my anxieties and reassured me over and over and over again. But mostly. It just hurt. And it didn’t feel like it hurt for a purpose since this question of ‘this might not work and we might send her home’ still lingered.
The evening after the 2nd dose of Cervidil was placed things started to pick up. When I finally decided to be checked I was at 2 centimeters and all of a sudden people started talking as if I was having a baby in the immediate future and not just in shades of vague possibility. I was told I could have the epidural placed soon. People started placing bets on when I’d deliver. It was go time. And THAT… THAT was the best pain medicine in the world. I mentally shifted from the place I’d been in since weeks before the induction of not being able to see past the beginning of the labor, to imagining meeting my baby in a matter of hours.
Also at that point, the pain meds that I had cheerfully foregone the other two times around were sounding pretty darned good.
The delightfully Austrian anesthesiologist was on call that night and he was the one who’d taken my case on initially. He and his resident—a guy with a scraggly beard who lit up when he heard Andy was in the Navy, and spent the time it took him to place the epidural swapping sea stories with Andy—put that part of the plan in place and I came to find that I rather liked the epidural. It sure beat the 24 hours of pain and contractions I’d had up to that point. It was also one of the key ingredients of the plan drawn up by my fabulous and amazing doctor. Epidural = less pain and stress for Mommy = hopefully suppressing any hormonal surges that Tomas might get kicked into from those factors as well as making it more likely that I could labor without pushing (another factor in hopefully keeping Tomas neutralized).
I actually slept on and off for a few hours after I got the epidural. I could still feel the contractions, but they didn’t hurt, and for the first time in the whole process I could and did relax. When I woke up, I looked outside at the snow that was falling and piling up and mused at what a beautiful (early) Thanksgiving morning it was.
Things didn’t pick up super quickly, and in fact, my contractions actually started getting further apart rather than closer together, so they upped the pitocin that they’d started when it was decided that it was ‘go’ time. I was worried that we were headed backwards and got agitated about my progress and started fretting about different possibilities. I was checked again and was at 4 cm. It was hypothesized that maybe this time I would labor ‘like normal’ without the super-fast progress that I normally experience, but the doctor also reported that my bag of waters was ‘bulging’ and that once that broke things might speed up. Sure enough, she left and with the next contraction I felt pressure and then my water broke. In the time it took for the doctor to make it back to check on me again, I’d progressed to 6 cm and the nurse said, “20 minutes from 4-6—if you do that 2 more times, you’ll be complete in 40 minutes.
And that was when I showed them all that I was serious about my labors progressing quickly after a certain point. Much less than 40 minutes had gone by when I knew I was fully dilated and when I was having to suppress the urge to push. The chief resident commented, “So THIS is what all the hype was about—You weren’t kidding about going fast!!!” My team was READY though and in seconds the room was full.
And I do mean full.
My nurse, who’d been staying pretty close for most of the ‘go time’ scenario was soon joined by another nurse and the resident who’d been checking on me all along, as well as the chief resident, and at times the attending on call (my incredible and amazing doctor was being paged like crazy at this point). Two pediatricians came in, along with a nurse for baby. Way back in the back of the room, Austrian Epidural guy and Navy doctor Epidural guy casually lounged around. Catching sight of them caught me off guard a couple of times as I would puzzle through why they were there and remember that it was because I had a crazy tumor and they were there in case of a hypertensive crisis.
Throughout this time, my nurse—who was absolutely incredible, by the way—was talking me through the contractions that I was having and helping me to resist the urge to push. In case you were wondering, NOT pushing during labor is, in my humble opinion MUCH HARDER than pushing ever was for me. I was also given one more really special, eleventh-hour cocktail of drugs to keep me as pain free and relaxed as possible.
Finally my doctor slid into the room, and the party really got started. I was directed through a couple of tiny pushes. I remember hearing the chief resident comment on how strong my uterus was and feeling a little proud. And then he got the forceps and with the help of the resident who’d been with me all night, they delivered Alaine. I could feel her moving right to the end and could feel her move down with each contraction which was really cool considering I could feel those sensations but without pain.
She was born, and there was a lusty cry, and I was done and she was here. The beautiful moment of seeing her perfect little body laying under the lights in the warmer came to pass and she was placed on my chest.
I’d worried for months that because of my ‘protective ambivalence’ and my focus on addressing Tomas, and just all of the emotions and twists and turns we’ve been through in these last nine months, that I wouldn’t feel that rush of love immediately. I worried that she would feel foreign and I would feel detached and those things would break my heart.
That didn’t happen though. I was and am swept up in rapture and delight at this beautiful little creature. Her name means ‘little rock’ and she has been that. She is a steady point of joy for me. I am so very glad that she is here and that we’re beginning the amazing journey of life with three exquisite daughters. She IS real. The joy of her being is every bit as real and consuming as the scary and hard things have been up to this point. I’m relieved to find as much reality in the good and pure and wonderful which encompass her joining our family, as there has been in the hard and scary and unknown. She is real and substantial and I love her.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Monday, November 22, 2010
NO MORE INTERESTINGNESS
*sigh*
We're supposed to go in to Labor and Delivery this evening for the induction.
I came down with a head cold this weekend....
And...
It's snowing. It never snows here. It's sticking. It's accumulating. Quickly. When it does snow here, it rarely sticks for long. It's dumping from here to Seattle where I'm delivering. And it's supposed to continue snowing all day and stay cold which means it's not going anywhere.
It's a two hour drive to the hospital.
I'm waiting to hear if they're going to postpone the induction or not. I'm hoping that they do. On the other hand, even though I typically go late, I'm nervous that I'll end up going into labor on my own and need to get there anyway.
I'm all for looking at life as a grand adventure. And I took my pastor's message seriously yesterday--I'm trying to use the flash light of gratefulness to look at my life rather than seeing everything through dark glasses (which is why I went outside and made snow angels with the girls).
But it's time for things to not be interesting. It's time for a clear path. It's time to get baby here safely with no more curves or interesting turns of events.
Can I get some people praying on that one, please?
We're supposed to go in to Labor and Delivery this evening for the induction.
I came down with a head cold this weekend....
And...
It's snowing. It never snows here. It's sticking. It's accumulating. Quickly. When it does snow here, it rarely sticks for long. It's dumping from here to Seattle where I'm delivering. And it's supposed to continue snowing all day and stay cold which means it's not going anywhere.
It's a two hour drive to the hospital.
I'm waiting to hear if they're going to postpone the induction or not. I'm hoping that they do. On the other hand, even though I typically go late, I'm nervous that I'll end up going into labor on my own and need to get there anyway.
I'm all for looking at life as a grand adventure. And I took my pastor's message seriously yesterday--I'm trying to use the flash light of gratefulness to look at my life rather than seeing everything through dark glasses (which is why I went outside and made snow angels with the girls).
But it's time for things to not be interesting. It's time for a clear path. It's time to get baby here safely with no more curves or interesting turns of events.
Can I get some people praying on that one, please?
Thursday, November 18, 2010
And Then I Fell...
I was undone by a yellow doll-house accessory. A teeny tiny table or some sort of thing. The girls were upstairs dripping dry from their bath and waiting for the brush that I'd come down to retrieve and I stepped down on a "Holy cow that's sharp," thing and I twisted around, and somehow managed to land on my rear end and not my belly, but I came down hard enough for it to hurt, and for the wind to be knocked out of me, and for me to know that I needed to call Labor and Delivery and I reallydidnotwanttohavetocallLaborandDelivery.
My first thought was, "Ow. And Oof. And Oh." My second thought was, "Dang it, I have to call and what are they going to tell me to do?" And my third thought was, "There's a football game tomorrow at UW.... My doctor will be out of town.... This cannot go awry."
UW's Labor and Delivery predictably suggested that though I hadn't fallen on my belly and though as of yet I wasn't contracting or bleeding, that I should come in and be monitored. Which really wasn't a good thing because after all they're 2 hours away and Andrew was on watch. And how in the heck was this all going to work?
All of which I said to the very nice L&D nurse and she acquiesced to the possibility of my going in to our own Labor and Delivery on base for monitoring with the plan to head south to Seattle if anything looked peculiar. So that's what I determined to do. Then I just had to call and coordinate that with our L&D, find someone to take the kiddos, and call my husband on watch and get there. Which.... all really wasn't that easy.
After a couple of phone calls, I found a friend from church to come be with the girls who were all ready for bed (but had, with almost no prompting from me, also gotten ready for the contingency of coming with Mommy by putting on pantsy pajamas, and shoes and socks and packing their own quiet bag. I was so blown away by their responsibility and concern for Mommy last night). I called Andrew and he made it home in such a short time that I don't want to think about how fast he must have been going. And with everything in place we went to the Labor and Delivery on base.
When we got to base, Andy realized he didn't have his military ID OR his drivers license. So we showed the guard mine and tried to explain. Except they didn't want to let us explain. Finally Andy said, "PLEASE LISTEN. She's 38 weeks pregnant and we have an emergency. We need to get to Labor and Delivery NOW. I left my wallet somewhere in the hurry to get her here because we have an EMERGENCY."
"Well.... do you have a drivers license at least?"
"NO, I LEFT MY WALLET SOMEWHERE--SHE NEEDS MEDICAL CARE."
"You really shouldn't drive without your Drivers License, you know"
"EMERGENCY."
"There's no need to get loud, sir."
"Look--Do I have permission to enter the gate or not?"
*Dubious glances exchanged between the two frustrating gate guards, and then finally a relenting sigh*
Seriously?!! I know they were just doing their jobs, but still... Seriously?!
That little interlude aside (and I guess it's a darn good thign we WEREN'T headed to Seattle with a wallet MIA, really), we got to L&D and they hooked me up to a monitor. Baby hadn't been moving. I kept waiting for a reassuring kick or something as I waited for our friend to get to the house, and during the ride, and as I settled into the bed at the Naval Hospital. I felt pretty sure that she was ok , but I had felt hardly any movement since my butt hit the floor, and that wasn't entirely reassuring.
They put the belts on my belly, and there was her heartbeat. And that was good.
And then we watched the monitor. The nurse came in and watched with us. And she explained that she hoped that her facial expressions and demeanor didn't make me feel unwanted, but they REALLY, REALLY, REALLY did not want me going into labor on their watch, because they REALLY, REALLY, REALLY weren't comfortable having a woman with my particular oddity give birth with their limited capabilities should things go wrong. And again I couldn't believe that I'd almost given birth at this hospital with no questions asked by anyone.
She was very nice despite her caveat about where this baby would ultimately be born. She chatted with us casually about her kids and ours and the shared camaraderie of being female and putting up with the discomforts and of pregnancy, but it was also pretty clear that she wasn't taking any chances with us.
Baby looked great. Heartbeat strong, and now she was trying to kick off the monitor. Also, she got hiccups.
I wasn't showing any signs of placental abruption, which I learned was the big concern with a fall. Even one not involving a belly. But I was having contractions. More than I expected to in only a few hours. I didn't start to feel them until I started tuning into the monitor and then my brain recognized the sensation and suddenly I did feel them. The nurse seemed to want to monitor that a bit more.
So we waited another hour. We watched The Princess Bride which was sitting on the T.V. I tried not to be hyper aware of every baby movement and every contraction by reciting the movie along with the characters since I essentially have it memorized. Somehow, though, just sitting in that uncomfortable bed, strapped to this contraption, wondering.... and wondering.... made me feel everything a little more strongly than normal. And I got progressively more uncomfortable, and increasingly aware of my contractions, and more and more nervous.
Eventually, after checking my cervix, they decided they could send me home. I wasn't going to get so serious about labor that night that I couldn't get myself to UW, but that only made me more nervous because... My doctor was out of town tomorrow, and there was this huge nationally syndicated Football Game happening and all was going to be messed up for hours and what if I went into labor and couldn't deliver with my doctor and someone else who wasn't as amazing took me and things all went wrong? Or what if I went into labor and we got stuck in traffic and the worst happened and we were stranded? Or what if...
I didn't call UW with an update because I desperately did not want to face the possibility of them saying, "Well.... since we have this game tomorrow, maybe you should come in if you're having contractions."
I'm tender today. My belly is tender. I don't know if it's all in my head, or if it's maybe because I twisted to protect myself so quickly when I fell, or for some other reason altogether. I'm walking gingerly everywhere I go. And I'm scared. I'm afraid to sit down wrong, or step wrong. I don't like realizing that I'm having a contraction, whereas normally I'd be glad that my body was doing SOMETHING at least. I'm afraid of lurking dollhouse furniture, and carrying laundry baskets.
Because last night I realized that I'm really just so far away from where my care is. And my case IS unique. And in an emergency, there are going to be some logistics involved which will slow us down. And that reality is scary.
I'm trying so hard not to be rattled by it. I'm trying to take it in a stride. I'm trying to hang onto peace. Lots of people fall when they are pregnant and probably some of them don't even call Labor and Delivery and maybe I shouldn't have either because maybe I wouldn't be so freaked out. But....
I was undone by a piece of doll-house furniture. A piece of doll house furniture and a football game and a two hour drive and the reality that my situation is unique and while everything is really most likely going to be just fine there are extra variables at work. I realized in a new way that even though everything was ok yesterday, that I feel very, very vulnerable. Now I'm just really ready to have the uniqueness of this delivery done and over with so I can focus on my baby for a little bit, before I get scared again.
My friend, Pam, got me out of the house today. We got our hair cut. Nothing perks me up like a hair cut. I'm feeling better by increments, and by tomorrow morning I'll be back to making jokes, and cycling through mania and gooeyness and regular old nerves again. Besides, tomorrow there won't be a football game and if I need to get to Seattle's L&D unit it'll just be the normal pain in the rear 2 hour drive. A regular night of sleep without coming home at midnight will do me good too. I'm ok, and I AM sure that all is going to go well, and we're going to meet this little girl in all her sweet chunky-cheeked glory next week with little fanfare except for the kind that all newborn babies deserve.
How about this though: Until then--keep the dollhouse furniture away from me.
My first thought was, "Ow. And Oof. And Oh." My second thought was, "Dang it, I have to call and what are they going to tell me to do?" And my third thought was, "There's a football game tomorrow at UW.... My doctor will be out of town.... This cannot go awry."
UW's Labor and Delivery predictably suggested that though I hadn't fallen on my belly and though as of yet I wasn't contracting or bleeding, that I should come in and be monitored. Which really wasn't a good thing because after all they're 2 hours away and Andrew was on watch. And how in the heck was this all going to work?
All of which I said to the very nice L&D nurse and she acquiesced to the possibility of my going in to our own Labor and Delivery on base for monitoring with the plan to head south to Seattle if anything looked peculiar. So that's what I determined to do. Then I just had to call and coordinate that with our L&D, find someone to take the kiddos, and call my husband on watch and get there. Which.... all really wasn't that easy.
After a couple of phone calls, I found a friend from church to come be with the girls who were all ready for bed (but had, with almost no prompting from me, also gotten ready for the contingency of coming with Mommy by putting on pantsy pajamas, and shoes and socks and packing their own quiet bag. I was so blown away by their responsibility and concern for Mommy last night). I called Andrew and he made it home in such a short time that I don't want to think about how fast he must have been going. And with everything in place we went to the Labor and Delivery on base.
When we got to base, Andy realized he didn't have his military ID OR his drivers license. So we showed the guard mine and tried to explain. Except they didn't want to let us explain. Finally Andy said, "PLEASE LISTEN. She's 38 weeks pregnant and we have an emergency. We need to get to Labor and Delivery NOW. I left my wallet somewhere in the hurry to get her here because we have an EMERGENCY."
"Well.... do you have a drivers license at least?"
"NO, I LEFT MY WALLET SOMEWHERE--SHE NEEDS MEDICAL CARE."
"You really shouldn't drive without your Drivers License, you know"
"EMERGENCY."
"There's no need to get loud, sir."
"Look--Do I have permission to enter the gate or not?"
*Dubious glances exchanged between the two frustrating gate guards, and then finally a relenting sigh*
Seriously?!! I know they were just doing their jobs, but still... Seriously?!
That little interlude aside (and I guess it's a darn good thign we WEREN'T headed to Seattle with a wallet MIA, really), we got to L&D and they hooked me up to a monitor. Baby hadn't been moving. I kept waiting for a reassuring kick or something as I waited for our friend to get to the house, and during the ride, and as I settled into the bed at the Naval Hospital. I felt pretty sure that she was ok , but I had felt hardly any movement since my butt hit the floor, and that wasn't entirely reassuring.
They put the belts on my belly, and there was her heartbeat. And that was good.
And then we watched the monitor. The nurse came in and watched with us. And she explained that she hoped that her facial expressions and demeanor didn't make me feel unwanted, but they REALLY, REALLY, REALLY did not want me going into labor on their watch, because they REALLY, REALLY, REALLY weren't comfortable having a woman with my particular oddity give birth with their limited capabilities should things go wrong. And again I couldn't believe that I'd almost given birth at this hospital with no questions asked by anyone.
She was very nice despite her caveat about where this baby would ultimately be born. She chatted with us casually about her kids and ours and the shared camaraderie of being female and putting up with the discomforts and of pregnancy, but it was also pretty clear that she wasn't taking any chances with us.
Baby looked great. Heartbeat strong, and now she was trying to kick off the monitor. Also, she got hiccups.
I wasn't showing any signs of placental abruption, which I learned was the big concern with a fall. Even one not involving a belly. But I was having contractions. More than I expected to in only a few hours. I didn't start to feel them until I started tuning into the monitor and then my brain recognized the sensation and suddenly I did feel them. The nurse seemed to want to monitor that a bit more.
So we waited another hour. We watched The Princess Bride which was sitting on the T.V. I tried not to be hyper aware of every baby movement and every contraction by reciting the movie along with the characters since I essentially have it memorized. Somehow, though, just sitting in that uncomfortable bed, strapped to this contraption, wondering.... and wondering.... made me feel everything a little more strongly than normal. And I got progressively more uncomfortable, and increasingly aware of my contractions, and more and more nervous.
Eventually, after checking my cervix, they decided they could send me home. I wasn't going to get so serious about labor that night that I couldn't get myself to UW, but that only made me more nervous because... My doctor was out of town tomorrow, and there was this huge nationally syndicated Football Game happening and all was going to be messed up for hours and what if I went into labor and couldn't deliver with my doctor and someone else who wasn't as amazing took me and things all went wrong? Or what if I went into labor and we got stuck in traffic and the worst happened and we were stranded? Or what if...
I didn't call UW with an update because I desperately did not want to face the possibility of them saying, "Well.... since we have this game tomorrow, maybe you should come in if you're having contractions."
I'm tender today. My belly is tender. I don't know if it's all in my head, or if it's maybe because I twisted to protect myself so quickly when I fell, or for some other reason altogether. I'm walking gingerly everywhere I go. And I'm scared. I'm afraid to sit down wrong, or step wrong. I don't like realizing that I'm having a contraction, whereas normally I'd be glad that my body was doing SOMETHING at least. I'm afraid of lurking dollhouse furniture, and carrying laundry baskets.
Because last night I realized that I'm really just so far away from where my care is. And my case IS unique. And in an emergency, there are going to be some logistics involved which will slow us down. And that reality is scary.
I'm trying so hard not to be rattled by it. I'm trying to take it in a stride. I'm trying to hang onto peace. Lots of people fall when they are pregnant and probably some of them don't even call Labor and Delivery and maybe I shouldn't have either because maybe I wouldn't be so freaked out. But....
I was undone by a piece of doll-house furniture. A piece of doll house furniture and a football game and a two hour drive and the reality that my situation is unique and while everything is really most likely going to be just fine there are extra variables at work. I realized in a new way that even though everything was ok yesterday, that I feel very, very vulnerable. Now I'm just really ready to have the uniqueness of this delivery done and over with so I can focus on my baby for a little bit, before I get scared again.
My friend, Pam, got me out of the house today. We got our hair cut. Nothing perks me up like a hair cut. I'm feeling better by increments, and by tomorrow morning I'll be back to making jokes, and cycling through mania and gooeyness and regular old nerves again. Besides, tomorrow there won't be a football game and if I need to get to Seattle's L&D unit it'll just be the normal pain in the rear 2 hour drive. A regular night of sleep without coming home at midnight will do me good too. I'm ok, and I AM sure that all is going to go well, and we're going to meet this little girl in all her sweet chunky-cheeked glory next week with little fanfare except for the kind that all newborn babies deserve.
How about this though: Until then--keep the dollhouse furniture away from me.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Conversations snatches at the Roseberry's House Lately
"Honey.... My feet are swollen and my back hurts and I'm tired, and my belly is huge, and I have a tumor, and I just feel SOOOO pregnant.... Could you bring me a glass of water?" (At least in a few days he'll only have the tumor part to contend with, right?)
"Holy Cow. We're going to have a baby next week."
"I'm nesting... Can we get these discs of my MRI and ultrasounds burned so I can send stuff to NIH." (I've never nested like that before!)
"Holy Cow. We're going to have a baby next week."
Andrew: "Honey... Are you ok?"
Me with flapping arms: "NO!"
Andrew: "What's Wrong?"
Me with flapping arms: "Oh... I dunno... I'm having a baby next week and I have a lot to get done and we're going to Seattle to have it and the doctor doesn't think my body will do well with the induction the first time and I'm terrified and I have a tumor that's being removed on the other side of the country sometime after the baby gets here.... DON'T I HAVE A RIGHT TO FREAK OUT, DANG IT?"
Andrew completely in control: "Of course, honey."
"Holy Cow. We're going to have THREE KIDS NEXT WEEK?!"
"The doctor says this baby is going to be huge. I mean huge. A huge baby. I'm having a huge baby."
"I'm having a BABY next week?! Why didn't anyone tell me I was gonna have a baby?! I don't think I know what to do with a baby anymore. We're toast!"
"I can't wait to meet her and find out what kind of a personality she's going to have and see her squishy cheeks! Oh... She's gonna be huge."
"We're having a BABY next week! Awww... I'm so excited!"
Yes.... I am alternately manic with preparations, amazingly calm, and totally freaked out this week. The doctor prepared me at our last OB visit that the induction process might take a couple of tries and that I should prepare myself to see a lot of UW next week. I'm trying to gear up mentally for that. In the end I know it'll be worth it to meet this little girl. I try to keep thoughts about the reasons for being in Seattle at bay. I don't even want to entertain the idea of "something tumor-related happening." I'm just planning on them not happening.
In my less together moments I find that I get overwhelmed by the thought that all the things that we've only been planning for up to now will start becoming reality this week, and while the reality of baby girl will surely be wonderful and miraculous, the realities that will come after and in contingency with a very small baby girl are a little daunting.
We keep plugging along though. We ARE excited and delighted about next week (as well as overwhelmed and terrified as you always are when you prepare to bring home a new wee one). The most important thing right now is getting this newest little Sweetheart girl here safely, and that is what we shall do...
I just hope she cooperates the first time around and we can bring her home to be this Thanksgiving's Pumpkin Pie. :)
"Holy Cow. We're going to have a baby next week."
"I'm nesting... Can we get these discs of my MRI and ultrasounds burned so I can send stuff to NIH." (I've never nested like that before!)
"Holy Cow. We're going to have a baby next week."
Andrew: "Honey... Are you ok?"
Me with flapping arms: "NO!"
Andrew: "What's Wrong?"
Me with flapping arms: "Oh... I dunno... I'm having a baby next week and I have a lot to get done and we're going to Seattle to have it and the doctor doesn't think my body will do well with the induction the first time and I'm terrified and I have a tumor that's being removed on the other side of the country sometime after the baby gets here.... DON'T I HAVE A RIGHT TO FREAK OUT, DANG IT?"
Andrew completely in control: "Of course, honey."
"Holy Cow. We're going to have THREE KIDS NEXT WEEK?!"
"The doctor says this baby is going to be huge. I mean huge. A huge baby. I'm having a huge baby."
"I'm having a BABY next week?! Why didn't anyone tell me I was gonna have a baby?! I don't think I know what to do with a baby anymore. We're toast!"
"I can't wait to meet her and find out what kind of a personality she's going to have and see her squishy cheeks! Oh... She's gonna be huge."
"We're having a BABY next week! Awww... I'm so excited!"
Yes.... I am alternately manic with preparations, amazingly calm, and totally freaked out this week. The doctor prepared me at our last OB visit that the induction process might take a couple of tries and that I should prepare myself to see a lot of UW next week. I'm trying to gear up mentally for that. In the end I know it'll be worth it to meet this little girl. I try to keep thoughts about the reasons for being in Seattle at bay. I don't even want to entertain the idea of "something tumor-related happening." I'm just planning on them not happening.
In my less together moments I find that I get overwhelmed by the thought that all the things that we've only been planning for up to now will start becoming reality this week, and while the reality of baby girl will surely be wonderful and miraculous, the realities that will come after and in contingency with a very small baby girl are a little daunting.
We keep plugging along though. We ARE excited and delighted about next week (as well as overwhelmed and terrified as you always are when you prepare to bring home a new wee one). The most important thing right now is getting this newest little Sweetheart girl here safely, and that is what we shall do...
I just hope she cooperates the first time around and we can bring her home to be this Thanksgiving's Pumpkin Pie. :)
Sunday, October 24, 2010
In Which Mama Bear Gets It and My Wonderful New Doctor Blows My Socks Off
Well... since that last post the whole 'where will the baby come out?' discussion got a little more interesting. I started to wrap my mind around the hospital my (original) doctor had mentioned. The one that seemed so very far away for a delivery at 1 hour and 45 minutes away from us. I did what I do and I Googled it and I saw the birthing suites and read about the ICU and NICU (which I really shouldn't need, but is still the mark of a higher-level hospital) and I thought, "Ok. I can do this." This could be ok. And I started to settle my mind into it.
I went swimming with Carolyn that Friday, did some laps myself, and was feeling pretty good when I walked through the door to see a message blinking on my answering machine.
It was.... The University of Washington. In Seattle. The SUPER hospital. You might remember that this is the place where we went to visit Dr. Crazy Hair and the Grey's Anatomyesque Intern and Resident. And when THEY call YOU you know there's some business going down.
This phone call indicated that I was to call back regarding an appointment that had been scheduled for the following Monday... The person on the answering machine indicated that she and I had already discussed this appointment, but I had never talked to the woman before... On top of that, I certainly wasn't expecting my care to be at UW. This was most certainly another curve ball.
I called back and got the pertinent information. I found out my appointment was scheduled with a doctor who follows High Risk pregnancies (Translation for the Grey's fans: They sent me to Addison Montgomery) and that I really had to make this appointment because (as if I hadn't noticed yet) we were in the eleventh hour here.
And at the word 'High Risk Pregnancy' coming from the lips of a person at UW, my Mama Bear heart skipped a beat. Of course it wasn't the first time I thought about the words... It's been on my chart for some time. It's the reason I met with the grumpy anesthesiologist at the Naval Hospital. But remember in the span of a week and a half I had gone from everyone I talked to saying, "Eh... No big deal on this delivering of the baby thing," to.... an ASAP referral to the REAL super hospital in Seattle's version of Addison Montgomery.
Let's face it, I've watched enough of Grey's Anatomy and Private Practice to know what kind of cases those doctors take on.
So.... I got a little bit scared. At the same time, the sinus infection I'd mentioned in the previous post got a lot worse... and my ear started to hurt... and all of my attempts to stay in control of my physical and emotional feelings were just plain shot. Being sick plus processing all of the new curve balls that now had to do with my pregnancy and therefore MY BABY just.... wasn't going well.
And lo.... I was a total basket case.
Monday came and Andy and I made the trek down to Seattle. I was a nervous wreck. I was a bundle of questions about C-sections and Inductions and 2+ hour drives to deliver a baby and worries about whether or not I would feel comfortable with this doctor.
Finally, we met her.
And I fell in love. Commence the newest Doctor Crush. Can she be my new best friend?
Her staff was wonderful. Her nurse hung out with us for a good 15 minutes quizzing me about Tomas and telling us how things worked when you hatched a kid at the UW. She was delightful. And then the doctor walked in and answered all of my questions before I could even ask them.
She said at one point, "I'm going to throw you a curve ball." I almost fainted then and there because I didn't think I could handle any more curve balls especially the kind that might come from the UW equivalent of Addison Montgomery. Andrew started reaching for the tissues on the counter and I warned her that me and Curve Balls were not friends right now.
Then she said, "I know everyone has probably been talking about C-sections with you... But I'm not sure that's the right way to go in your case. I'm not sure that would actually be LESS stressful for you and baby in the long run."
And that's when I got really Gooey-eyed about My Wonderful New Doctor.
She took us through a potential plan that would involve a planned induction (with a delivery 2+ hours away from home, there's just really no way to get around that at this point), but would not necessarily have to involve a C-section. (It will probably, however, involve a *really* good epidural and a Season or two of Bones). Now don't get me wrong, I'm NOT down on C-sections. But I would like to avoid one if at all possible because I've got a lot coming at me in my recovery period and I already have at least one and possibly two surgeries looming post baby arrival (thanks to good ole Hermione) and besides I just plain don't know what to expect within the realm of C-sectionness. I've had two non-medicated births that came about 'the more traditional way,' and I have a lot of anxiety about the C-section possibility and how I would handle it (mostly in regards to the recovery period).
This plan is not set in stone. We'll find out more about whether or not it's a possibility at our next appointment on Wednesday when we'll again see My Wonderful New Doctor as well as an anesthesiologist. The anesthesiologists hold the magic fairy dust to keep all ok in ANY strange event that Tomas might cause and they are key players to this delivery. They have to be on board with My Wonderful New Doctor too.
But just knowing that she was open to other possibilities was so comforting.
I left feeling GOOD about about going to UW for baby's arrival and feeling WONDERFUL about My Wonderful New Doctor.
Incidentally, I got a phone call from the referral powers that be at the Naval Hospital later on in the week. I had called my doctor, trying very hard not to cry, after making the initial contact with the folks at UW. I asked him why I was being sent to a Super Hospital instead of the "Medium level hospital that is closer with an ICU and everything he said I really needed." He said he'd ask the folks in referrals.
They called to explain that they'd been trying to get me in to said hospital (to which I nearly burst out with, NO! DON'T! in light of My Wonderful New Doctor) and.... They wouldn't take me. I'm too weird. I make them too nervous. They consider my oddities to be too big of a risk for them.
Then I thought--the meeting with the grumpy anesthesiologist was not so fun... And the feeling that no one out here had my back until the fabulous folks at NIH stepped up for me was awful... And switching at the eleventh hour from my doctor who has been so wonderful through this whole process is really a bummer.... And the prospect of giving birth 2 hours away is inconvenient at best and anxiety producing at worst....
BUT how scary is it that unless those questions had been asked, that I could have given birth at our little Naval Hospital when the folks down the road, which are considered to be more than a few steps above our little hospital, consider me to be too high of a risk and would only refer me up to the super docs?
At that point the Mama Bear who had previously only been scared out of her mind at the words 'High Risk' in conjunction with this pregnancy suddenly became just really grateful that I was going to the very, very best place around for world class care for this little cub and me.
There's a 99% chance that we don't need to be at a Super Hospital and that all the extra precautions and resources that will be available to us won't be needed in the least. But if that 1% fluke happens and I end up being *really* special in a not so great way, I'm exactly where I need to be.
So on Wednesday we should be coming home with a 'plan' not that babies always follow anybody's plan, Super Doc or not. We should know when the hatching of this sweet little one will occur too (again see previous statement). I've kicked the sinus infection and gotten drugs for the ear infection and the world is really looking brighter.
Mama Bear has settled in, Tomas can wait a while longer, and I'm good.
At least until the next curve ball comes flying.
I went swimming with Carolyn that Friday, did some laps myself, and was feeling pretty good when I walked through the door to see a message blinking on my answering machine.
It was.... The University of Washington. In Seattle. The SUPER hospital. You might remember that this is the place where we went to visit Dr. Crazy Hair and the Grey's Anatomyesque Intern and Resident. And when THEY call YOU you know there's some business going down.
This phone call indicated that I was to call back regarding an appointment that had been scheduled for the following Monday... The person on the answering machine indicated that she and I had already discussed this appointment, but I had never talked to the woman before... On top of that, I certainly wasn't expecting my care to be at UW. This was most certainly another curve ball.
I called back and got the pertinent information. I found out my appointment was scheduled with a doctor who follows High Risk pregnancies (Translation for the Grey's fans: They sent me to Addison Montgomery) and that I really had to make this appointment because (as if I hadn't noticed yet) we were in the eleventh hour here.
And at the word 'High Risk Pregnancy' coming from the lips of a person at UW, my Mama Bear heart skipped a beat. Of course it wasn't the first time I thought about the words... It's been on my chart for some time. It's the reason I met with the grumpy anesthesiologist at the Naval Hospital. But remember in the span of a week and a half I had gone from everyone I talked to saying, "Eh... No big deal on this delivering of the baby thing," to.... an ASAP referral to the REAL super hospital in Seattle's version of Addison Montgomery.
Let's face it, I've watched enough of Grey's Anatomy and Private Practice to know what kind of cases those doctors take on.
So.... I got a little bit scared. At the same time, the sinus infection I'd mentioned in the previous post got a lot worse... and my ear started to hurt... and all of my attempts to stay in control of my physical and emotional feelings were just plain shot. Being sick plus processing all of the new curve balls that now had to do with my pregnancy and therefore MY BABY just.... wasn't going well.
And lo.... I was a total basket case.
Monday came and Andy and I made the trek down to Seattle. I was a nervous wreck. I was a bundle of questions about C-sections and Inductions and 2+ hour drives to deliver a baby and worries about whether or not I would feel comfortable with this doctor.
Finally, we met her.
And I fell in love. Commence the newest Doctor Crush. Can she be my new best friend?
Her staff was wonderful. Her nurse hung out with us for a good 15 minutes quizzing me about Tomas and telling us how things worked when you hatched a kid at the UW. She was delightful. And then the doctor walked in and answered all of my questions before I could even ask them.
She said at one point, "I'm going to throw you a curve ball." I almost fainted then and there because I didn't think I could handle any more curve balls especially the kind that might come from the UW equivalent of Addison Montgomery. Andrew started reaching for the tissues on the counter and I warned her that me and Curve Balls were not friends right now.
Then she said, "I know everyone has probably been talking about C-sections with you... But I'm not sure that's the right way to go in your case. I'm not sure that would actually be LESS stressful for you and baby in the long run."
And that's when I got really Gooey-eyed about My Wonderful New Doctor.
She took us through a potential plan that would involve a planned induction (with a delivery 2+ hours away from home, there's just really no way to get around that at this point), but would not necessarily have to involve a C-section. (It will probably, however, involve a *really* good epidural and a Season or two of Bones). Now don't get me wrong, I'm NOT down on C-sections. But I would like to avoid one if at all possible because I've got a lot coming at me in my recovery period and I already have at least one and possibly two surgeries looming post baby arrival (thanks to good ole Hermione) and besides I just plain don't know what to expect within the realm of C-sectionness. I've had two non-medicated births that came about 'the more traditional way,' and I have a lot of anxiety about the C-section possibility and how I would handle it (mostly in regards to the recovery period).
This plan is not set in stone. We'll find out more about whether or not it's a possibility at our next appointment on Wednesday when we'll again see My Wonderful New Doctor as well as an anesthesiologist. The anesthesiologists hold the magic fairy dust to keep all ok in ANY strange event that Tomas might cause and they are key players to this delivery. They have to be on board with My Wonderful New Doctor too.
But just knowing that she was open to other possibilities was so comforting.
I left feeling GOOD about about going to UW for baby's arrival and feeling WONDERFUL about My Wonderful New Doctor.
Incidentally, I got a phone call from the referral powers that be at the Naval Hospital later on in the week. I had called my doctor, trying very hard not to cry, after making the initial contact with the folks at UW. I asked him why I was being sent to a Super Hospital instead of the "Medium level hospital that is closer with an ICU and everything he said I really needed." He said he'd ask the folks in referrals.
They called to explain that they'd been trying to get me in to said hospital (to which I nearly burst out with, NO! DON'T! in light of My Wonderful New Doctor) and.... They wouldn't take me. I'm too weird. I make them too nervous. They consider my oddities to be too big of a risk for them.
Then I thought--the meeting with the grumpy anesthesiologist was not so fun... And the feeling that no one out here had my back until the fabulous folks at NIH stepped up for me was awful... And switching at the eleventh hour from my doctor who has been so wonderful through this whole process is really a bummer.... And the prospect of giving birth 2 hours away is inconvenient at best and anxiety producing at worst....
BUT how scary is it that unless those questions had been asked, that I could have given birth at our little Naval Hospital when the folks down the road, which are considered to be more than a few steps above our little hospital, consider me to be too high of a risk and would only refer me up to the super docs?
At that point the Mama Bear who had previously only been scared out of her mind at the words 'High Risk' in conjunction with this pregnancy suddenly became just really grateful that I was going to the very, very best place around for world class care for this little cub and me.
There's a 99% chance that we don't need to be at a Super Hospital and that all the extra precautions and resources that will be available to us won't be needed in the least. But if that 1% fluke happens and I end up being *really* special in a not so great way, I'm exactly where I need to be.
So on Wednesday we should be coming home with a 'plan' not that babies always follow anybody's plan, Super Doc or not. We should know when the hatching of this sweet little one will occur too (again see previous statement). I've kicked the sinus infection and gotten drugs for the ear infection and the world is really looking brighter.
Mama Bear has settled in, Tomas can wait a while longer, and I'm good.
At least until the next curve ball comes flying.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Ok. Fine
--Referral in for new OB. Likely hospital I deliver at will be 1 hour and 45 minutes away.
--Talk of scheduled induction because of distance from hospital.
--Talk of scheduled C-section because of extraordinarily small chance of tumor secreting hormones and a hypertensive crisis happening.
(Neither are options with which I'm particularly thrilled. If this is what is needed to get baby here safely though, we'll go with it. I'm just tired of Tomas getting to call all the shots and change all the game plans. I KNOW that if Mom and baby come through labor and delivery safely that's all that matters. But I'm tired of having my expectations thwarted and my plans tweaked and retweaked and tweaked again because of a thing in my neck that I didn't invite.)
--Not so comforting, "We're expecting everything to be straight-forward with your delivery, but just in case we need you at a hospital equipped with an ICU," discussion. Ok. Fine.
--Cold which seems to want to develop into sinus infection or bronchitis, keeps me from sleeping well at night. Makes me feel like crap during the day too. At least it's not as bad as it was over the weekend.
--Rough couple of Mommy days with kiddos pushing boundaries and practicing their howling skills (and not the howling skills needed for Halloween).
Ok. Fine. None of it is a big deal. None of it is huge.... But all of it is wearying.
I'm feeling a bit discouraged to tell the truth.
This too shall pass and I'll put on my big girl panties and deal with all of it. Because... well: what other choice do I have?
But right now, in the thick of it, I'm tired, and I don't feel well, and the little things of life seem out of control, and the big things of life seem even more out of control. And I'm just feeling a little discouraged about it all.
"O God, Thy Sea is so big and my boat is so small," so goes the prayer.
And I'll add what my good friend Piglet says, "It's a little anxious to be a very small animal entirely surrounded by water."
--Talk of scheduled induction because of distance from hospital.
--Talk of scheduled C-section because of extraordinarily small chance of tumor secreting hormones and a hypertensive crisis happening.
(Neither are options with which I'm particularly thrilled. If this is what is needed to get baby here safely though, we'll go with it. I'm just tired of Tomas getting to call all the shots and change all the game plans. I KNOW that if Mom and baby come through labor and delivery safely that's all that matters. But I'm tired of having my expectations thwarted and my plans tweaked and retweaked and tweaked again because of a thing in my neck that I didn't invite.)
--Not so comforting, "We're expecting everything to be straight-forward with your delivery, but just in case we need you at a hospital equipped with an ICU," discussion. Ok. Fine.
--Cold which seems to want to develop into sinus infection or bronchitis, keeps me from sleeping well at night. Makes me feel like crap during the day too. At least it's not as bad as it was over the weekend.
--Rough couple of Mommy days with kiddos pushing boundaries and practicing their howling skills (and not the howling skills needed for Halloween).
Ok. Fine. None of it is a big deal. None of it is huge.... But all of it is wearying.
I'm feeling a bit discouraged to tell the truth.
This too shall pass and I'll put on my big girl panties and deal with all of it. Because... well: what other choice do I have?
But right now, in the thick of it, I'm tired, and I don't feel well, and the little things of life seem out of control, and the big things of life seem even more out of control. And I'm just feeling a little discouraged about it all.
"O God, Thy Sea is so big and my boat is so small," so goes the prayer.
And I'll add what my good friend Piglet says, "It's a little anxious to be a very small animal entirely surrounded by water."
Thursday, October 7, 2010
A roller-coastery week and why I KNOW we made the right choice
It's been quite a week.
I have a cold or a virus of some sort for one thing. I haven't been sleeping well for another. That makes the head space of Val a difficult thing to navigate.
We had the fantastic news (mentioned below in an earlier post) from NIH this week that encouraged me immensely. After that I didn't expect to be thrown for any sort of loop at my OB appointment on Wednesday. After all, I had a game plan and I was on top of everything.
But there was this other bump that I'd been stressing over. The one on my belly. I presume it is this bump and it's odd location that makes people exclaim, "Oh My, You're just HUGE!!!!" upon seeing me these days--which believe me is a great ego booster for a girl, especially when those same people try to convince me I'm having twins or that my due date is off by two months.
And that bump, as I mentioned yesterday, it turns out is most likely a hernia. And my doctor thinks that most likely that hernia will need to be dealt with surgically post baby arrival. And that news... That news did not please me any.
I looked at Andy after sobbing hysterically in the Goobermobile for a few minutes after the appointment and said, "I can take the news of a Carotid Paraganglioma and go off to work. Here I am crying over a hernia?"
But really, first of all, hernias sound like something that only hairy, large men with names like Bif and large biceps should get--at least in my head. And second of all...
Um... Have you been paying attention to what's going on ALREADY after this sweet little girl makes her appearance in our lives? Things will be quite full enough thank you and I'm not really in the mood to 'squeeze in just one more tiny surgery' no matter how 'routine' it may be.
So there was that.
And then, my doctor mentioned that the anesthesiologist wanted to see me. I've given birth at this very Naval hospital two other times before this pregnancy and not once has an anesthesiologist wanted to talk to me. In fact, since my labors happen mainly within the 'it doesn't really count as REAL labor according to the intake nurses' window of being dilated to 2 cms for 6-8 (painful, contraction-filled) hours and then going from hearing 'you're never going to have this baby at this rate, woman, deal with it,' from the nurses to 'Holy cow it's time RIGHT NOW!!! Somebody put on the Catcher's Gear!" in the course of a few minutes, I've never even had time for an epidural.
But this time an anesthesiologist consult was requested. So I asked why and I was told that it's because I have a weird thing in my neck and they wanted to talk to me about what that might mean with anesthesia.
I was shuffled around on this particular consultation two days in a row. In the meantime I talked to the amazing people on my team at NIH to find out what my anesthesiologists DID need to know. That boiled down to one thing really: It is really, really, really, really, really extremely unlikely that this Para (or another one that we don't know about) would secrete hormones and spike my BP especially given my catecholamine/metanepherine levels being normal and my blood pressure being a little on the low side even with all the crazy that's happened lately. BUT it's not unheard of. Sometimes the stress of labor triggers an otherwise 'silent' para into action and when that happens a hypertensive crisis could happen. So... There was just that one little thing they needed to know, really.
After being led through a maze to find the anesthesiologist's office at the Naval Hospital today (which was... strangely in the middle of the dental wing???), and after waiting for him for 15 minutes in a hospital that was mostly deserted because of meetings, and after speaking to 3 different people wondering where he was and then waiting on him to come shuffling in, I finally got to sit down and talk to the guy. He was worried about blood flow and about my airway, which are valid concerns for a gentleman of his profession. When I used the word 'paraganglioma' he said, "Do you have documentation of this diagnosis?" And I said, "Um... Yeah." He yelled at me for not having a specialist following my case more closely and I told him that no specialist wanted me until after my baby was born. And then I brought up the issues that my folks at NIH had indicated were most valid to address. He grilled me on my cat/met levels and noted my low and stable blood pressure so far and made a 'what is with this weirdo patient worrying about things that aren't going to happen?' facial expression that I'm coming to know quite well. Then he said "If you ended up having a hypertensive crisis we could give you drugs to make you stable and transport you to another hospital more equipped for those things, but I think you'll be ok delivering here." Translation: In the (admittedly extremely unlikely, but not unheard of) event that the stuff hit the fan... I'd be toast. And this guy didn't really care.
So I came home. And I cried. And I sent an email to NIH.
And NIH called back straight away and said, "You know... You really need to deliver at another hospital," and I blubbered something about how they probably couldn't refer me out because I haven't been SEEN by someone who would recommend it given my diagnosis... And the wonderful nurse who has begun calling me 'honey-bunny' from all of the conversations we've had in a way that doesn't even really annoy me, said, "WHO DO I NEED TO TALK TO?" And I cried. And felt better. Because SOMEONE has my back.
I have really been hating being a rarity lately. I hate that when I talk to a doctor here in this state--even the super-specialists at places like UW--I am thought to be a hypochondriac zebra-chaser. I hate that within about ten minutes of talking to some of the doctors I've encountered that I can tell that they are not clear with the terminology. For instance a "Carotid Body Tumor, (which is actually a misnomer) IS a paraganglioma. And a Paraganglioma IS very similar to a Pheochromacytoma. It's the same thing, but located outside of the adrenal gland. I don't WANT to be the expert. I know very well that I haven't gone to med school. But because of that fact most of them blow off any information that I give them because after all 'they're the ones making the big bucks.' It's enough to make a girl feel completely, and totally alone with a diagnosis that is treatable but serious and has the potential to be very serious not only to me, but possibly to my children also. depending on what we find out about the genetic nature of the disease.
And that is why I am so INCREDIBLY THANKFUL for NIH and for the communication that they have been so free with and for their answering my questions and NOW being willing to talk to whoever needs to be talked to to make sure that until I come to THEM that I am seen by the best people possible.
So what's that mean on the news front?
It means that... Well, I have a hernia too. It means that there is a good possibility that I will not be delivering at this hospital. It means that we have about 8 weeks to figure out where I'm going to give birth and it means that I may be saying goodbye to the only doctor in this part of the country who has taken me seriously and advocated for me and not treated me like a zebra chaser: The Family Practice Doc. who has been following my OB care.
It means there may be a battle for a referral with TriCare, but I have faith that my person at NIH will get the right information to the right people to get me to the right place
But hopefully, ultimately it means that all will be well for the part of this deal that is supposed to be joyous and that is supposed to be about the arrival of the sweet little person growing and kicking and wriggling within me as we speak. If that part of the puzzle can be put in and put at rest, we can focus on that for the next few weeks and get into the joy part of it all before heading to NIH and dealing with the tumor part of it all.
I'm still a coldy, tired, and emotionally frazzled girl. But I AM going to be ok.
I have a cold or a virus of some sort for one thing. I haven't been sleeping well for another. That makes the head space of Val a difficult thing to navigate.
We had the fantastic news (mentioned below in an earlier post) from NIH this week that encouraged me immensely. After that I didn't expect to be thrown for any sort of loop at my OB appointment on Wednesday. After all, I had a game plan and I was on top of everything.
But there was this other bump that I'd been stressing over. The one on my belly. I presume it is this bump and it's odd location that makes people exclaim, "Oh My, You're just HUGE!!!!" upon seeing me these days--which believe me is a great ego booster for a girl, especially when those same people try to convince me I'm having twins or that my due date is off by two months.
And that bump, as I mentioned yesterday, it turns out is most likely a hernia. And my doctor thinks that most likely that hernia will need to be dealt with surgically post baby arrival. And that news... That news did not please me any.
I looked at Andy after sobbing hysterically in the Goobermobile for a few minutes after the appointment and said, "I can take the news of a Carotid Paraganglioma and go off to work. Here I am crying over a hernia?"
But really, first of all, hernias sound like something that only hairy, large men with names like Bif and large biceps should get--at least in my head. And second of all...
Um... Have you been paying attention to what's going on ALREADY after this sweet little girl makes her appearance in our lives? Things will be quite full enough thank you and I'm not really in the mood to 'squeeze in just one more tiny surgery' no matter how 'routine' it may be.
So there was that.
And then, my doctor mentioned that the anesthesiologist wanted to see me. I've given birth at this very Naval hospital two other times before this pregnancy and not once has an anesthesiologist wanted to talk to me. In fact, since my labors happen mainly within the 'it doesn't really count as REAL labor according to the intake nurses' window of being dilated to 2 cms for 6-8 (painful, contraction-filled) hours and then going from hearing 'you're never going to have this baby at this rate, woman, deal with it,' from the nurses to 'Holy cow it's time RIGHT NOW!!! Somebody put on the Catcher's Gear!" in the course of a few minutes, I've never even had time for an epidural.
But this time an anesthesiologist consult was requested. So I asked why and I was told that it's because I have a weird thing in my neck and they wanted to talk to me about what that might mean with anesthesia.
I was shuffled around on this particular consultation two days in a row. In the meantime I talked to the amazing people on my team at NIH to find out what my anesthesiologists DID need to know. That boiled down to one thing really: It is really, really, really, really, really extremely unlikely that this Para (or another one that we don't know about) would secrete hormones and spike my BP especially given my catecholamine/metanepherine levels being normal and my blood pressure being a little on the low side even with all the crazy that's happened lately. BUT it's not unheard of. Sometimes the stress of labor triggers an otherwise 'silent' para into action and when that happens a hypertensive crisis could happen. So... There was just that one little thing they needed to know, really.
After being led through a maze to find the anesthesiologist's office at the Naval Hospital today (which was... strangely in the middle of the dental wing???), and after waiting for him for 15 minutes in a hospital that was mostly deserted because of meetings, and after speaking to 3 different people wondering where he was and then waiting on him to come shuffling in, I finally got to sit down and talk to the guy. He was worried about blood flow and about my airway, which are valid concerns for a gentleman of his profession. When I used the word 'paraganglioma' he said, "Do you have documentation of this diagnosis?" And I said, "Um... Yeah." He yelled at me for not having a specialist following my case more closely and I told him that no specialist wanted me until after my baby was born. And then I brought up the issues that my folks at NIH had indicated were most valid to address. He grilled me on my cat/met levels and noted my low and stable blood pressure so far and made a 'what is with this weirdo patient worrying about things that aren't going to happen?' facial expression that I'm coming to know quite well. Then he said "If you ended up having a hypertensive crisis we could give you drugs to make you stable and transport you to another hospital more equipped for those things, but I think you'll be ok delivering here." Translation: In the (admittedly extremely unlikely, but not unheard of) event that the stuff hit the fan... I'd be toast. And this guy didn't really care.
So I came home. And I cried. And I sent an email to NIH.
And NIH called back straight away and said, "You know... You really need to deliver at another hospital," and I blubbered something about how they probably couldn't refer me out because I haven't been SEEN by someone who would recommend it given my diagnosis... And the wonderful nurse who has begun calling me 'honey-bunny' from all of the conversations we've had in a way that doesn't even really annoy me, said, "WHO DO I NEED TO TALK TO?" And I cried. And felt better. Because SOMEONE has my back.
I have really been hating being a rarity lately. I hate that when I talk to a doctor here in this state--even the super-specialists at places like UW--I am thought to be a hypochondriac zebra-chaser. I hate that within about ten minutes of talking to some of the doctors I've encountered that I can tell that they are not clear with the terminology. For instance a "Carotid Body Tumor, (which is actually a misnomer) IS a paraganglioma. And a Paraganglioma IS very similar to a Pheochromacytoma. It's the same thing, but located outside of the adrenal gland. I don't WANT to be the expert. I know very well that I haven't gone to med school. But because of that fact most of them blow off any information that I give them because after all 'they're the ones making the big bucks.' It's enough to make a girl feel completely, and totally alone with a diagnosis that is treatable but serious and has the potential to be very serious not only to me, but possibly to my children also. depending on what we find out about the genetic nature of the disease.
And that is why I am so INCREDIBLY THANKFUL for NIH and for the communication that they have been so free with and for their answering my questions and NOW being willing to talk to whoever needs to be talked to to make sure that until I come to THEM that I am seen by the best people possible.
So what's that mean on the news front?
It means that... Well, I have a hernia too. It means that there is a good possibility that I will not be delivering at this hospital. It means that we have about 8 weeks to figure out where I'm going to give birth and it means that I may be saying goodbye to the only doctor in this part of the country who has taken me seriously and advocated for me and not treated me like a zebra chaser: The Family Practice Doc. who has been following my OB care.
It means there may be a battle for a referral with TriCare, but I have faith that my person at NIH will get the right information to the right people to get me to the right place
But hopefully, ultimately it means that all will be well for the part of this deal that is supposed to be joyous and that is supposed to be about the arrival of the sweet little person growing and kicking and wriggling within me as we speak. If that part of the puzzle can be put in and put at rest, we can focus on that for the next few weeks and get into the joy part of it all before heading to NIH and dealing with the tumor part of it all.
I'm still a coldy, tired, and emotionally frazzled girl. But I AM going to be ok.
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