I was planning on updating, honestly. But I have a good excuse - it's Gunther's birthday :)
28 weeks and nothing new to report, save for my belly getting bigger.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Monday, June 18, 2007
27 and still going strong (I'm hoping)
I was 5 and a half months pregnant with Gunther Jr. when that huge power outtage hit Eastern Canada and the North Eastern States. And, to add insult to injury, I was living on the 3rd floor of an already hot, all dark brick, south facing apartment building built on a huge rock outcropping. I swear I was going to melt. It was that day that I swore I was never going to have a summer pregnancy.
Yeah... That promise lasted :P
Meh, I can't complain. Gunther III is doing well so far, and so am I, save for being extremely sensitive to heat. It's a mere 23 degrees Celcius in here (so 2 degrees above average room temp) and I feel like I've been sitting in a hot tub for the last hour. You know that radiating heat you get after a hot shower or the like? That's what I feel like.
But aside from that, I feel fine.
Yeah... That promise lasted :P
Meh, I can't complain. Gunther III is doing well so far, and so am I, save for being extremely sensitive to heat. It's a mere 23 degrees Celcius in here (so 2 degrees above average room temp) and I feel like I've been sitting in a hot tub for the last hour. You know that radiating heat you get after a hot shower or the like? That's what I feel like.
But aside from that, I feel fine.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
26 weeks and counting
Depending on who you ask, my "due date" (in quotes cause Gunther III is supposed to greet the world via scheduled c-section on September 10th) is either September 16 or 17. So, I'll go with the 16th in the evening and count that the middle mark and say I've made it 26 weeks so far. 1 week and 1 day longer than last time.
I'm still nervous. If anyone would have told me that my pregnancies would have gone this way after Gunther Jr., I'm not too sure I would have tried for any more. Not saying that I don't want Gunther III, or that I didn't want Menerva Jr. Gosh, I wish I could have both of them, alive, healthy and here driving me bonkers, just like their older brother is so capable of doing. But I'm the type who generally errs on the side of caution, and would prefer not to have that risk... The only reason why we tried again was because we believed the speculation the doctors made about Menerva Jr... That her premature birth was because of an infection that no one noticed. Guessing that was 50% of the problem at least. This time though, I've been checked and double checked and everything seems to be fine in that area.
Haven't got a thing ready for Gunther III's arrival. Some people have been telling me to go out (or rather, have the hubby do it) and get the things that we'll need now, not only to be ready, but so that in my own mind, I am "prepairing". However, I'm too bloody scared. I don't want to jinx anything. I've got enough room on my visa to get everything I need in one day when I can bring him home... I don't even want to go out and pick up so much as a pair of baby socks.
But so far, so good. Although I don't have another ultrasound appointment until this Thursday, things don't feel like they've changed. The little guy is enjoying the opportunity to kick Mommy's supper and give her heartburn. And I'm being entertained by watching him bounce about. So far, Gunther Jr. hasn't quite noticed it... He has once, but thought it was me just kidding around. And he's scared the cats, who I don't think understand that there's a baby in there. Omen will just stare, and Taboo will try and bat at the spot that moved with his paw.
Just one day at a time, right? I'm surviving so far. Unlike last time, my house is unpacked, I have a lot of things set up, and I have people around me I can call up for support. We were only in this house for 2 weeks the last time. I can do this. I did it the last time. I just hope this time, it works.
I'm still nervous. If anyone would have told me that my pregnancies would have gone this way after Gunther Jr., I'm not too sure I would have tried for any more. Not saying that I don't want Gunther III, or that I didn't want Menerva Jr. Gosh, I wish I could have both of them, alive, healthy and here driving me bonkers, just like their older brother is so capable of doing. But I'm the type who generally errs on the side of caution, and would prefer not to have that risk... The only reason why we tried again was because we believed the speculation the doctors made about Menerva Jr... That her premature birth was because of an infection that no one noticed. Guessing that was 50% of the problem at least. This time though, I've been checked and double checked and everything seems to be fine in that area.
Haven't got a thing ready for Gunther III's arrival. Some people have been telling me to go out (or rather, have the hubby do it) and get the things that we'll need now, not only to be ready, but so that in my own mind, I am "prepairing". However, I'm too bloody scared. I don't want to jinx anything. I've got enough room on my visa to get everything I need in one day when I can bring him home... I don't even want to go out and pick up so much as a pair of baby socks.
But so far, so good. Although I don't have another ultrasound appointment until this Thursday, things don't feel like they've changed. The little guy is enjoying the opportunity to kick Mommy's supper and give her heartburn. And I'm being entertained by watching him bounce about. So far, Gunther Jr. hasn't quite noticed it... He has once, but thought it was me just kidding around. And he's scared the cats, who I don't think understand that there's a baby in there. Omen will just stare, and Taboo will try and bat at the spot that moved with his paw.
Just one day at a time, right? I'm surviving so far. Unlike last time, my house is unpacked, I have a lot of things set up, and I have people around me I can call up for support. We were only in this house for 2 weeks the last time. I can do this. I did it the last time. I just hope this time, it works.
Saturday, June 9, 2007
...at least they kept their promise
I was told that at the very latest, they would assess my cervical length on Thursday and if there was no change, I could go home. I already had an appointment booked for 2:15 for an ultrasound on that day in the hospital, but since I was an inpatient, they cancelled my appointment and then managed to squeeze me in at the last minute. And lucky me, no change!
But then they had to wait for the results of my glucose test. Then they had to contact home care and see if they could take me on as a patient twice a week (they just come in and assess my and Gunther III's vitals). Then the charge nurse took her lunch break. So at 8:00, I finally got discharged.
I'm at home now. I spent these past days enjoying the fact that I could sleep without someone coming by and waking me up. Or that I didn't have to try to sleep through other people snoring (after all these years, I'm used to Gunther's tone of snoring and I sleep right through it), talking, or their inductions (which was what was going on the last few days, how bloody wonderful is that to be happening in the high risk ward?). I still feel tired and run down, but that's partially because I can't get up and move to wake myself up. My doctor wants me to either sit or lie down for the most part. I can stand and walk minimally. Like going to the bathroom, grabbing myself something to drink, or to go from one part of the house to another to sit. I may have not been the most energetic and active girl in the world, but this is annoying. Mind you, it's not worth the risk just to go for a walk. Not to mention that all this not moving around is already weakening the legs. I've spent the past week in a wheelchair at the hospital (the only way they'd approve of me getting around) or in bed. And Thursday, it was obvious I was losing muscle tone in my legs. When I got up, it took me three times as long to get 5 feet away. I was walking like someone with bad osteoperosis.
So far, things are good. Just got to take it one day at a time, and hope like hell I make it to September. My doctor is taking it as "small goals" as he put it. Strive right now for 28 weeks. 28 weeks gets past a certain number of problems if he's born. After that, strive for 30. Then 32. Then 34... Every 2 weeks longer brings him closer to being born with no issues. Although I would prefer him to be term, striving for a 2 week point past my current situation doesn't seem as hard. Things are still touch and go, but he's gone further than Menerva Jr. did... I guess that's saying something.
But then they had to wait for the results of my glucose test. Then they had to contact home care and see if they could take me on as a patient twice a week (they just come in and assess my and Gunther III's vitals). Then the charge nurse took her lunch break. So at 8:00, I finally got discharged.
I'm at home now. I spent these past days enjoying the fact that I could sleep without someone coming by and waking me up. Or that I didn't have to try to sleep through other people snoring (after all these years, I'm used to Gunther's tone of snoring and I sleep right through it), talking, or their inductions (which was what was going on the last few days, how bloody wonderful is that to be happening in the high risk ward?). I still feel tired and run down, but that's partially because I can't get up and move to wake myself up. My doctor wants me to either sit or lie down for the most part. I can stand and walk minimally. Like going to the bathroom, grabbing myself something to drink, or to go from one part of the house to another to sit. I may have not been the most energetic and active girl in the world, but this is annoying. Mind you, it's not worth the risk just to go for a walk. Not to mention that all this not moving around is already weakening the legs. I've spent the past week in a wheelchair at the hospital (the only way they'd approve of me getting around) or in bed. And Thursday, it was obvious I was losing muscle tone in my legs. When I got up, it took me three times as long to get 5 feet away. I was walking like someone with bad osteoperosis.
So far, things are good. Just got to take it one day at a time, and hope like hell I make it to September. My doctor is taking it as "small goals" as he put it. Strive right now for 28 weeks. 28 weeks gets past a certain number of problems if he's born. After that, strive for 30. Then 32. Then 34... Every 2 weeks longer brings him closer to being born with no issues. Although I would prefer him to be term, striving for a 2 week point past my current situation doesn't seem as hard. Things are still touch and go, but he's gone further than Menerva Jr. did... I guess that's saying something.
Monday, June 4, 2007
Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies
At home again, for a few hours. At least they're letting me get out every now and then, cause I'm moments from plastering a few of them with boot prints. What has happened in the last few days??? Well, just a great realization of what kind of bullshit I should have come to expect from the medical community.
I had a fairly in depth conversation prior to being admitted to the hospital with the doctor who signed up the orders. I said I wanted to be assessed after the steriod shots would have taken affect to see if things are staying stable, because I can't afford, financially or emotionally, to be in the hospital for an extended period of time unless it was damned well necessary. And I told her my opinion and history of bedrest, and she agreed that I would be sent for an ultrasound on Saturday to ensure things are still where they were. So Saturday, I inquired as to when I would be sent for that test. "Whenever they call you down, and that's only if they figure its worth it." Excuse me? Who's "they"? The ultrasound technicians, who have no medical say in things??? Saturday came and went. Sunday came and went... And I found out that I was never even penciled in for an ultrasound, save for the one scheduled for me on Thursday (which was scheduled months ago).
Then there was the phone call to my OBGYN, who unfortunantly I'm currently not under the official care of while in this hospital. However, because he is my doctor and the one I'm currently under has no authority over him unless there is an emergency, if he says "Send her home", then I go home. Providing that when he calls me they let me know before his practice has been shut down for an hour! And part of the message he left, that I didn't find out about until I called his office this morning? That he wasn't going to be in today. So I'm going out and throwing some more money on my fucking VISA today and buying a cell phone. There's no bloody phone service in the ward I'm in! I can't get a phone there, but I can bring a cell. So that's fucking it, I'm getting one.
Still not a fucking test or assessment or even a minor check to see if things are changing. They ask me the typical questions. "Any cramping, contractions, leaking fluids?" No, no, no. But do they ask anything else? "Have your stress levels increased or decreased since being admitted? How would you rate the empathy or compassion of any of the health care workers you have encountered during your stay? Do you feel your questions and concerns are being addressed?" Increased 10 fold, poor and not in the bloody least.
I think what angers me the most is that if I'm so fucking high risk, then DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT!!! Making me stay away from my family, worry about reneging on my mortgage, and prodding me in the middle of the night to ask me how I'm doing isn't going to help at all. I'm not stupid. I know my options, I know what to do in the event something goes wrong, I'm not intending to come home and spend the next however long doing jumping jacks and straight leg lunges while carrying a load of 50 pounds on my back. I intend on working while sitting at my desk (which is acceptable according to the doctors), sleeping in my comfortable bed (which doesn't make me sweat the moment I lie down as it's not one of those stinking rubber covered hopsital jobbies), and doing as little as possible. And I'm bloody lucky that Gunther is the kind of man he is because no one could ask for better right now. If he needed to, that man would carry me from my chair to the bed, all of 2 steps in its current setup. I live 5 minutes away from a hospital that would be able to rush me back to the RAH if necessary, and has already agreed that if they see me pop into the emergency room, they'd be doing just that for me. I live the same distance away from my OBGYN and my family doctor, both of whom know my history and have been extremely helpful. And I've got a good network here of people who are all willing and able to help if necessary. I wouldn't be homesick. I wouldn't be sad when Gunther Jr. says "Mommy, I want you to come home. I miss you." I wouldn't be fretting about how I'm going to pay my mortgage. I would be able to sleep without staring at the celing for hours until the twit in the bed next to me stopped snoring. Or being woken up by babies crying because they're so full up in the L&D ward that they've been rooming new mothers in the high risk ward... SMART fucking idea, like I need that. And I wouldn't be spending hours sitting in a wheelchair on the sidewalk by the edge of the properity because I just can't stand being surrounded by people. I am a social creature, yes, but damnit, I want to be alone right now. Phone conversations, email, maybe a visit, sure, but right now? All I want to do is curl up in my bed with my husband and my son and watch them sleep.
Tomorrow the shit's going to hit the fan... This morning I didn't get the chance, but if I have to stay up all night tonight in order to prepare then I will. Give me a good fucking reason to keep me or send me home.
I had a fairly in depth conversation prior to being admitted to the hospital with the doctor who signed up the orders. I said I wanted to be assessed after the steriod shots would have taken affect to see if things are staying stable, because I can't afford, financially or emotionally, to be in the hospital for an extended period of time unless it was damned well necessary. And I told her my opinion and history of bedrest, and she agreed that I would be sent for an ultrasound on Saturday to ensure things are still where they were. So Saturday, I inquired as to when I would be sent for that test. "Whenever they call you down, and that's only if they figure its worth it." Excuse me? Who's "they"? The ultrasound technicians, who have no medical say in things??? Saturday came and went. Sunday came and went... And I found out that I was never even penciled in for an ultrasound, save for the one scheduled for me on Thursday (which was scheduled months ago).
Then there was the phone call to my OBGYN, who unfortunantly I'm currently not under the official care of while in this hospital. However, because he is my doctor and the one I'm currently under has no authority over him unless there is an emergency, if he says "Send her home", then I go home. Providing that when he calls me they let me know before his practice has been shut down for an hour! And part of the message he left, that I didn't find out about until I called his office this morning? That he wasn't going to be in today. So I'm going out and throwing some more money on my fucking VISA today and buying a cell phone. There's no bloody phone service in the ward I'm in! I can't get a phone there, but I can bring a cell. So that's fucking it, I'm getting one.
Still not a fucking test or assessment or even a minor check to see if things are changing. They ask me the typical questions. "Any cramping, contractions, leaking fluids?" No, no, no. But do they ask anything else? "Have your stress levels increased or decreased since being admitted? How would you rate the empathy or compassion of any of the health care workers you have encountered during your stay? Do you feel your questions and concerns are being addressed?" Increased 10 fold, poor and not in the bloody least.
I think what angers me the most is that if I'm so fucking high risk, then DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT!!! Making me stay away from my family, worry about reneging on my mortgage, and prodding me in the middle of the night to ask me how I'm doing isn't going to help at all. I'm not stupid. I know my options, I know what to do in the event something goes wrong, I'm not intending to come home and spend the next however long doing jumping jacks and straight leg lunges while carrying a load of 50 pounds on my back. I intend on working while sitting at my desk (which is acceptable according to the doctors), sleeping in my comfortable bed (which doesn't make me sweat the moment I lie down as it's not one of those stinking rubber covered hopsital jobbies), and doing as little as possible. And I'm bloody lucky that Gunther is the kind of man he is because no one could ask for better right now. If he needed to, that man would carry me from my chair to the bed, all of 2 steps in its current setup. I live 5 minutes away from a hospital that would be able to rush me back to the RAH if necessary, and has already agreed that if they see me pop into the emergency room, they'd be doing just that for me. I live the same distance away from my OBGYN and my family doctor, both of whom know my history and have been extremely helpful. And I've got a good network here of people who are all willing and able to help if necessary. I wouldn't be homesick. I wouldn't be sad when Gunther Jr. says "Mommy, I want you to come home. I miss you." I wouldn't be fretting about how I'm going to pay my mortgage. I would be able to sleep without staring at the celing for hours until the twit in the bed next to me stopped snoring. Or being woken up by babies crying because they're so full up in the L&D ward that they've been rooming new mothers in the high risk ward... SMART fucking idea, like I need that. And I wouldn't be spending hours sitting in a wheelchair on the sidewalk by the edge of the properity because I just can't stand being surrounded by people. I am a social creature, yes, but damnit, I want to be alone right now. Phone conversations, email, maybe a visit, sure, but right now? All I want to do is curl up in my bed with my husband and my son and watch them sleep.
Tomorrow the shit's going to hit the fan... This morning I didn't get the chance, but if I have to stay up all night tonight in order to prepare then I will. Give me a good fucking reason to keep me or send me home.
Saturday, June 2, 2007
Not Again
Thursday was another one of my "routine" weekly ultrasounds to ensure that the escape hatch was still closed shut. This time, I brought Gunther along. I wanted him to see how things were progressing, but I had this feeling that I was going to need him for more than just that. And how right I was.
1.4 cm. Again. Not horribly surprised... My cervix had been getting shorter over the weeks that I've been going in. 4.25 to 4 to 3 to 2.5 and now to 1.4... So they admitted me into the damned hospital again to "monitor" me until at least today, preferably until Thursday.
You know what? I'm beginning to get really fucking pissed off with the medical profession, beyond last time. Probably doesn't help that my opinion of the lot of them still stood where it did in November of 2005. But let's see... I'm considered "high risk" due to this. But oddly enough, not high enough risk to be monitored in any way, shape or form. The only thing that has been done since Thursday that has been (or could possibly be) of any use is two shots of steroids to help develop Gunther III's lungs in the event he is born early. That's it. Any medications? No. Have they checked out my cervix? No. All they've done is provide me with crap hospital food, an uncomfortable bed in a room that's too warm, and excuses about why they're delaying everything from getting calls from my OBGYN to answers as to why I don't qualify for a circlage.
I managed to get an "evening" pass. Meaning, I'm at home at the moment, but I have to go back tonight. However, if they think they're doing me a favor by keeping me there, they're horribly mistaken. Due to how things are, I've been more mobile in the past few days than I would be at home. I can work from home with no troubles, which would be really fucking helpful since my health care won't cover much of a short term leave. My neighbours have already been quite helpful in watching Gunther Jr. while Gunther has come out to see me or had to do work late. And everything I could possibly want or need to do is in much closer proximity in my home than it would ever be in a hospital room. So unless they're planning on doing more than what they have been (which is pretty much next to nothing), then I want out.
Not again... At least I'm at 25 weeks at this point... Menerva Jr. was born at 24 weeks 6 days. So I'm at least 1 day past that and with no sign of the exit route opening just yet. If history repeats itself, I've got another 2 weeks before I meet him, since that was how long from diagnosis to delivery it was for me to meet my daughter. And I'm bloody well hoping that he stays in there until at least 32 weeks, minimum. Still, every day longer is a step ahead of what his sister had.
Yeah, so much for having faith, eh? I ain't defeated yet. I'm extremely greatful for the antidepressants I'm on at the moment, let me tell you. But you know what? It's hard right now not to feel like I know how the story is going to progress.
1.4 cm. Again. Not horribly surprised... My cervix had been getting shorter over the weeks that I've been going in. 4.25 to 4 to 3 to 2.5 and now to 1.4... So they admitted me into the damned hospital again to "monitor" me until at least today, preferably until Thursday.
You know what? I'm beginning to get really fucking pissed off with the medical profession, beyond last time. Probably doesn't help that my opinion of the lot of them still stood where it did in November of 2005. But let's see... I'm considered "high risk" due to this. But oddly enough, not high enough risk to be monitored in any way, shape or form. The only thing that has been done since Thursday that has been (or could possibly be) of any use is two shots of steroids to help develop Gunther III's lungs in the event he is born early. That's it. Any medications? No. Have they checked out my cervix? No. All they've done is provide me with crap hospital food, an uncomfortable bed in a room that's too warm, and excuses about why they're delaying everything from getting calls from my OBGYN to answers as to why I don't qualify for a circlage.
I managed to get an "evening" pass. Meaning, I'm at home at the moment, but I have to go back tonight. However, if they think they're doing me a favor by keeping me there, they're horribly mistaken. Due to how things are, I've been more mobile in the past few days than I would be at home. I can work from home with no troubles, which would be really fucking helpful since my health care won't cover much of a short term leave. My neighbours have already been quite helpful in watching Gunther Jr. while Gunther has come out to see me or had to do work late. And everything I could possibly want or need to do is in much closer proximity in my home than it would ever be in a hospital room. So unless they're planning on doing more than what they have been (which is pretty much next to nothing), then I want out.
Not again... At least I'm at 25 weeks at this point... Menerva Jr. was born at 24 weeks 6 days. So I'm at least 1 day past that and with no sign of the exit route opening just yet. If history repeats itself, I've got another 2 weeks before I meet him, since that was how long from diagnosis to delivery it was for me to meet my daughter. And I'm bloody well hoping that he stays in there until at least 32 weeks, minimum. Still, every day longer is a step ahead of what his sister had.
Yeah, so much for having faith, eh? I ain't defeated yet. I'm extremely greatful for the antidepressants I'm on at the moment, let me tell you. But you know what? It's hard right now not to feel like I know how the story is going to progress.
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