Pregnancy

For the 8 people that read this blog, please feel free to skip this. Leah and Juliet both have pregnancy journals that I wrote in every week. Being a particularly ambitious first time mother, I even took weekly pictures for Leah’s. While Juliet’s didn’t have as many (if any?) pictures, I did write in it every week. This boy has nothing of the such. I firmly believe that each baby’s story begins during pregnancy, and I know I would love if my mom had kept a log of what was happening and her thoughts while she was pregnant with me. I thought about just typing this out and giving it to him one day, but I’m not sure I (or he) could or would keep track of the random paper. So, here is a nine month pregnancy log…

His story begins during the summer of 2018. I don’t want to get bogged down describing the 2 previous years because I really don’t view those years as really part of his story. Suffice to say, the road to baby boy was a long and often dark road. By last summer, both Chris and I had a feeling that we were nearing the end of this road, though I (especially) was not quite ready to end the process. By that July, I had a really odd sense of peace about everything. When I thought hard, and thought that might mean that my family was already complete, it was a hard thought. But I had stopped fixating on any sort of time table or deadline and felt the closest thing to peace that I had felt for a while.

At the end of July we went to Maui. I was actually a little relieved that I wasn’t pregnant. I knew I would be much more relaxed and NOT being pregnant would make for a better trip for everyone. While Chris ended up getting some bad work related news that caused him to have to work several mornings out of the condo and reply to emails using his cell phone under a beach towel, the rest of us had a great time. We took the picture below and I remember thinking, “This would be the perfect Pinterest baby boy announcement picture”.

 All we needed was a banner that said, "It's a boy". Little did I know, this picture was Teddy's "Official" Day 1.

After we got back from Maui, we were in Chicago tagging along with Chris as his case went to trial. While we were there, the girls and I took a 3 day side trip to St. Louis to see the eclipse in totality. While Leah and I were watching the eclipse, Juliet met a “baby friend”. She could have cared less about anything sun/moon/sky related. She was completely fixated on the fact that this 10 month old was letting her completely mother her. They played for hours. The baby’s parents kept telling me how adorable it was, what a natural Juliet was with children, and telling me how I should have another child. By the end of the afternoon, I was almost in tears. I remember hoping that my sunglasses hid it. Since Juliet was a baby, Chris and I have always remarked about what a good big sister she was going to make one day. We both wanted that for her, too, but it wasn't looking promising.

Look at Baby Boo with her Baby Boy! We named him Steve. She would go upstairs, in total darkness, to look for him if we said, "Where's your baby?"

On Leah’s birthday, I first suspected something may be up. It was the first day I let myself acknowledge I was “late”. However, earlier that year my body had gotten all out of whack after spending 9 days in Cozumel. So, I rationalized that between spending time in Maui, Michigan, Chicago, and St. Louis during the previous month, it was more than possible that the same thing was happening again. Chris was working 16 hour plus days, so I didn’t want to tell him too much.

In fact, I told him that I wasn’t going to tell him anything unless he directly asked. I didn’t want to stress him out any more than he already was. The plan with our specialist was to go in for my first appointment between the end of my 5th week of pregnancy to beginning of my 6th week of pregnancy, so I felt like I wasn’t in a rush to find anything out right away anyway. I planned on testing in what “could” be the middle of my 5th week.

I took this picture on Leah's Birthday at the American Girl Store. On the way there, I told Chris that something may be up. Chis made the clenched teeth emoji face.

On the first day of school, I took a pregnancy test. It was positive. I have no recollection of actually taking this test. I was in a total fog. I remember Juliet spilled milk all over the rug that morning, and being super annoyed. I remember bringing up the carpet cleaner and cleaning the rug at 8:10. That seems so weird now. Why didn’t I just clean it up a little, and leave the carpet cleaning for the afternoon? By lunch, I had scheduled my first 2 appointments with the doctor. Because Chris was in Chicago, I called Renee to come to my first ultrasound. I was so emotional about everything that I had a total breakdown outside of Bushes talking on the phone with her. A few kind old ladies asked me if I was okay.

First day of knowing I was pregnant.

I had bloodwork done later that week, and I remember my numbers were significantly higher than the range that Dr. Google gave me for my dates. I was sure it was either a) twins and then Chris was going to divorce me or b) a molar/nonviable pregnancy. I had my ultrasound that Saturday, and I remember Auntie Renee trying to make conversation and just thinking, “you crazy lady, I am unable to listen to anything that you are saying right now.” The doctor came in and gave me a 3 second ultrasound which confirmed that (one) baby was there, and measuring as it should. He gave me a prescription for daily lovenox shots (which I gave to myself through week 32) and told me to begin taking a baby aspirin every day. The entire appointment seemed like it was less than 5 minutes and I remember thinking, “What kind of doctor is this? This can’t be real. A Saturday morning appointment? A 3 second ultrasound? I am totally imagining this. I have gone off the deep end and am probably clinically insane and hallucinating”.

A week later Chris finally asked me, “what ever happened? Did you take a pregnancy test?” I answered, “yes, I did, and I am. I had an ultrasound last week. Something is in there, and everything looks okay.” It was hands down the weirdest conversation I’ve ever had in my life. I’m not a big secret keeper and Chris has probably known of every major event/thought/plan of mine within hours for the past 16 years. It was also weird because neither of us really knew what to say. We knew the next few months were going to suck. There was nothing to do but “wait and see”.

Chris came home and we started the bi-weekly ultrasounds. I didn’t dread them, but I didn’t look forward to them either. After every ultrasound our doctor would say what a beautiful, perfect baby we had, and offer us pictures. We never accepted them. I got the feeling that we were the first couple that had ever refused them.

When the time came for the 12 week ultrasound, I was completely beside myself. I had already rescheduled the appointment once because I just couldn’t deal with it. When the doctor came in, I explained my history and that there was a very good chance that there wouldn’t be good news. Our doctor had always been very positive (usually annoyingly so), and I scared him enough that he wouldn’t let the medical student who was training with him perform the ultrasound. But, there he was. Alive. I remember asking if it was a boy or a girl, and him giving me a long answer involving undescended testicles and gathering that it could be a boy. I was in total disbelief. As was Chris. In the parking lot, Chris and I were talking and I remember being totally hit by the idea that even though it was alive 5 minutes ago, that didn’t mean that it was alive NOW. That thought stayed in my brain over the next several weeks and kept me awake at night until I felt Baby move regularly inside of me.

After that appointment, we were transferred back to my regular OB. I needed the standard 12 week ultrasound that looks for gross abnormalities and the blood test that tests for some of the major

chromosomal issues. I also needed the standard ultrasound that is required for dating purposes from my regular OB.  The doctor’s scheduler call me to schedule these appointments during Juliet’s Halloween party. Juliet was more than annoyed that I had to step out for 5 minutes to do this. I was in such a fog that it just literally took me 5 minutes to remember what Leah and Juliet dressed up as for Halloween. At this point, Leah and Juliet had known that I was pregnant since the day I knew. Since I required so many doctor appointments in the beginning, and Chris was gone, I was truthful with where I was going and what was going on. I swore them to secrecy and both did a great job of not telling anyone. The second I told Juliet she could tell, she proudly told anyone who would listen, though. It was so sweet.

They were a flamingo and a peacock! It came back to me.

The next 2 appointments at 13 and 14 weeks were the most difficult appointments that I ever had. I don’t even want to go back to where I was mentally and what I was thinking in the hours and minutes leading up to them. Now, it doesn’t matter anyway. There was always an easily found heartbeat. We also found out that it was definitely a baby boy. Even though a doctor had already shared that he suspected baby was a boy, both Chris and I were in disbelief. I remember clicking on the “baby boy” tabs at Gap and Janie and Jack for the first time and feeling like I was stepping into a whole new world. We shared the news with Leah and Juliet. Leah was a little disappointed. She really liked the idea of a sister. Juliet was just happy that this boy was looking pretty promising. I remember her saying, "I don't care! I don't care!" and looking at Leah like she was completely crazy that this promising looking baby wasn't enough because he was a boy.  Juliet then went through her usual questions, “Can I be the first to hold him?”, “Can he sleep in my room?”, and “Can I push him in the stroller?”

I'm not a big believer in "signs". But this lone flower that grew 2 months after we cut everything down to the ground in September gave me hope. It bloomed in mid-November which were easily the most scary weeks for me of the entire pregnancy. 

By this time I was about 18 weeks and we STILL had not told anyone outside from Auntie Robin and Auntie Renee. The secret was getting harder to keep as I was looking rounder. Also, I had begun to

feel him move regularly! This was huge for me because I had an anterior placenta, and was warned

that I may not feel him until much later in my pregnancy. Feeling him move was equal parts reassuring (as I was feeling it) and scary (when I wasn’t). I tried not to fixate on the movements, but it was hard.

On Thanksgiving we told my side of the family, and shortly afterward told everyone else. It was an odd feeling! Even though I was far enough along that I was in maternity wear, it still felt strange to let people in on our little secret. In fact, it felt weird all the way until the end. At 37 weeks pregnant I was shopping at Home Goods and a woman approached me and said congratulations and asked  me how far along I was. My first thought was, “How do I know you and WHO told you I was pregnant?!”.Then I started laughing out loud because I could feel the bitchiest look on my face and remembered that I was obviously HUGELY pregnant. I felt this poor woman looking at me probably wondering why the hell I looked so offended by her pleasantries.

The 18 week ultrasound felt like another big hurdle. I was petrified that there would be a heart or brain issue. I made the earliest appointment on the first day I “qualified” for the ultrasound. We had a great ultrasound. Everything measured just as it should. Chris and I felt like a weight had been lifted. That feeling lasted about 5 minutes. Right at the end, the tech asked whether I wanted my cervix measured. Since I always error on the side of caution, I said yes. As she measured and remeasured I got the distinct feeling that something was wrong with the measurements. Sure enough, she shared that I had a short cervix. The average cervix is 4-5 cm and mine was measuring 2.1. If it shortened to 1.9 before 24 weeks then I would need a procedure to help reinforce it. Of course I hopped right on Google and read about how this meant that I was doomed to have a micro preemie, if I even made it to viability at 24 weeks. The next day, my OB called and tried her best to talk me off the edge. She used the word “dynamic” to describe cervixes and I remember thinking, “haven’t you looked on Google? This isn’t good at all!” I was prescribed another medication along with weekly ultrasounds to be monitored by high-risk MFM doctors.

At Leah's Christmas Show. Teddy moved around like a crazy person with the music. I loved feeling him move.

We started weekly ultrasounds. At every appointment, they checked all his major organs and measured my cervix. Every 3 weeks they took measurements at told us what percentile he was in overall for his gestational age. Every time, the number creeped up. At birth, Teddy was in the 93% for his gestational age. Teddy and I rocked it!  At first I completely loathed these appointments. But as they went on, I loved them. I loved seeing him move and being reassured that everything was measuring exactly as it should (though his legs were always a little shorter than the rest of him). My favorite appointment was the one at 28 weeks when they did a 3D ultrasound. It was AMAZING to see his face and to see him move in real time. As the weeks went on, I was less concerned with the cervix measurement. The medication they gave me seemed to work, and it became more and more clear with each appointment that each person performed the measurements in a different way, often getting vastly different numbers. At one appointment our tech said, “There’s really no training on how to do this.”  We’ve had at least 3 different doctors/techs explain how to measure--all were different. Once I reached 24 weeks, and had no warning signs of premature birth, I began to (slightly) relax. By 30 weeks, I was feeling pretty good. The staff at the MFM office cheered for us at our  “graduation” appointment and I remember finally feeling like it was probably going to be okay.

Around this time, I finally started to allow myself to feel “kind of” pregnant. I began buying some of the bigger ticket items that we needed. At Pottery Barn Outlet, we got him a dresser, a rocker, and a shelf. We went that weekend because there was a great sale on furniture. Even though I knew we were probably in the clear, I remember looking at all my items feeling like I was completely insane to be purchasing all these things. I called Chris and was a little bit hysterical about the whole thing. Chris said, “We can always use a dresser” and it made me laugh because it was such a random (but true) thing to say. I also started buying clothes. The girls would always ask, “Is that for the baby?” when things would come in the mail. We’d open them up and coo at how adorable the tiny baby clothes were. When we finally bought diapers (at 37 weeks), we passed them around smelling them and giggling about how small and adorable they were. 

At 35 weeks, I had some serious nesting instincts kick in. We had to tile the bathroom floors, get everything painted, and actually set up the nursery. I basically survived the entire pregnancy on about an average 5 hours of sleep a night (since he’s been born, it’s crazy how much MORE sleep I get a night--even getting up every 2-4 hours with him), so I would surf Etsy at 3am and pick out art and other random for his nursery. It was so weird to think about how close we were to having a baby, but how it still seemed like it a big maybe. Work gave me a baby “sprinkle” when I was 34 weeks, and while I appreciated it, I still felt like it was a little premature. Around this time, I began having irregular contractions, too. And everything started hurting all the time. People would ask, “How do you feel?” (stupidest question ever) and I would always say, “Tired” or “Done”. We were so close to the finish line, I just wanted to be there and know how it was all going to turn out. Every night I would remind myself that there’s also something a little magical about being so hugely pregnant, though, and would pull up my shirt before bed and watch him squirm around inside of me. Seeing little elbows and feet make my belly move is hands down the best part of being pregnant. Now, I see Teddy move in his swaddle and am reminded of that feeling. So darn sweet!  

 Me at 37 weeks pregnant! The only full body pictures I have of the entire pregnancy. I am not a cute pregnant person!

In January, my doctor and I talked about my delivery options. I had remembered her saying that she could induce as early as 38 weeks at an appointment that I had before this pregnancy even begun. That number stuck in my head, and as soon as the April schedule of doctors was released, I found the first day she was in the hospital after my week 38 and had her schedule it. That day was April 20th. As time went on, more and more people “mommy shamed” me for wanting him out so early. I had some hesitations, too, but still felt in my heart that I would be so much more relaxed with him out as opposed to in. Everything I read said that complications were rare at 38 weeks, and it was extremely unlikely that he would need any additional medical interventions.  Of course it's better for OTHER peoples babies to stay in as long as possible, but with my history, I wanted MY baby out and medically assessed as soon as it was safe. As we neared 38 weeks, I agreed to talk over pushing back the day (by a week or so) with our doctor. Chris had come to every ultrasound appointment--except the first (which I just counted--we had 20. TWENTY.), but didn’t go to the regular OB appointments. He came with me to my last one at 38 weeks exactly. At the start of my appointment, my blood pressure was higher than usual. We then had a non-stress test that Teddy struggled with initially (I think he was sleeping, so his heart rate was steady as opposed to showing regular peaks). They zapped him a few times with a vibrator and he woke right up. Then, the alarm went off because there had been too much of a jump between his lowest reading and his highest reading. I remember sitting there and thinking, “this is why he needs to come out. I don’t have an alarm at home--I have no idea that the hell is going on in there!” Our doctor talked me off the edge and even brought in the ultrasound machine to give us some more peace of mind (ultrasound number 21). We all agreed to wait until closer to 39 weeks to induce. However, at the end of my appointment, my blood pressure was still high, and our doctor told us at that point, it was better just to induce tomorrow as scheduled. We sort of questioned it, but she said she was taking the decision out of our hands, and making it for us based on my blood pressure. It suddenly got super real.

We spent that evening trying to show Leah and Juliet some love. It was so weird to think that it was likely our last night as a family of 4. The thought made both Chris and I misty. I think we were both terrified about worst case scenario and what that would mean for the 2 perfect children we had already. While Chris and I both tried to bond with the baby, it still seemed like bringing home a baby was still so far away, and definitely not a promised event. We took the girls out for Mexican food and ice cream (their choice). I gave them a little present from Teddy. We let them sleep in our room one last time as a family of 4. It was such an emotionally overwhelming evening. Since I was pretty sure we were going to push back the induction, I didn’t even have a hospital bag packed. I struggled with wanting to spend time just cuddling the girls, wanting to pack and clean up the house, and wanting to just sit by myself and worry. Both girls were a little weepy with thoughts of the hospital, the new baby, and how their lives were going to change. But, ready or not, Baby was coming...