Well, would you look at that.
Over there! To the left! See that little moving shape in the black box? Our little baby is starting to look a little less like a blob and a little more human.
According to Pregnancy Week By Week at Babies Online, our baby has a face! Features are becoming more obvious, as his lips, tongue and nostrils, as well as the buds for 20 baby teeth are already present. The back muscles are growing along the spinal column, and his or her reproductive organs have started to form and soon will become either testes or ovaries. The arms and legs are growing and elbows and knees appear as well. The fingers and toes are starting to show but are still webbed. Our baby is about 8 - 11 mm or 0.31 - 0.43 inches in length.
Our baby is starting to show signs of reflex activity - an automatic response to certain types of stimuli Connecting you and the baby, the umbilical cord with all its blood vessels, is starting to function. In fact, what will be our baby's intestine is forming in the umbilical cord as well. An ultrasound done this week would show our baby's fluttering heart and reflex movements.
To commemorate the beginning of the eighth week, I present to you:
Eight Reasons Why This Pregnancy Is Different and Should Result In A RLB*
1) IVF - Good egg, good sperm, good embryo. That's gotta help, right?
2) Lovenox - My stomach is a rainbow of bruises, thanks to the lovely nightly encounter with the needle, but it's worth it.
3) That beautiful heartbeat - At 7 weeks, 1 days, the baby's heartbeat was a nice and steady 145 BPM. Right on track for it's gestational age.
4) Measuring ahead - At 7 weeks, 1 days, the baby measured 7 weeks, 3 days.
5) Pregnancy vitamins - They were a bit harder to keep down this week, but I am giving it my all.
6) Zofran - this week, I had some good days and bad days, but the Zofran still seems to help.
7) Pure and utter faith - As the days tick by, a little bit more hope seeps into my spirit. I am finding myself checking for spotting less (although still pretty constantly) and not worrying as much about every single twinge.
8) Knocking on wood here, but absolutely no spotting. In every single other pregnancy, I have had spotting. With Gummy Bear, it was just a bit and just once, but it was still red blood. Despite my constant checking, I have yet to find even a tinge of brown or speck of pink. Thank God.
*Real Live Baby
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Saturday, January 19, 2008
A Bump In The Night
Actually, it was more like a crash.
At 1:05 am, my husband and I were rudely awakened by what could only be described as a horrible crashing noise.
We live about five houses in from a somewhat busy street. Usually, the street noise doesn't bother us, especially at night, when the traffic dies down.
Once before, we were dragged from bed by a horrible noise, and a stoned teenager had driven his car into a rock wall on the side of our neighbor's house. Unfortunately, he died that night.
So, when I heard the noise, I immediately feared the worse. The noise had sounded close, although we were both fast asleep at the time. We peered out our front window, our eyes noting that the street seemed darker than usual.
My husband saw it first: the light post that would usually illuminate the darkness was instead lying in a twisted heap in the middle of the street. Then I saw the truck in the nearest yard.
I grabbed the phone to dial 9-1-1. My husband went to see if he could help. By the time he got his shoes on and got out the front door, the truck revved it's engine and pulled out of the yard. As I was reporting the accident to the operator, I noticed another truck leaving our down the street neighbor's driveway and roaring off down the street in the other direction.
A moment later, our neighbor stumbled down the street toward my husband. I watched from inside as they talked for a few minutes. Then my husband came inside, shaking his head. These particular neighbors are "famous" in our development for their raucous parties that go into all hours of the night. When I last left on a business trip, my car picked me up at 4:00 AM, and there was someone passed out on their front porch. We have never called the police, but our good friends' house sits up behind theirs, and the parties have kept them from sleeping many times.
The neighbor told my husband "not to worry," because it had been his friends that knocked down the light pole. The neighbor claimed to have been fast asleep at the time. My husband said that it was clear that he was intoxicated. They spoke a bit longer before our wayward neighbor stumbled home.
A few moments later, a patrol car pulled up. My husband gave a statement of what we had heard and seen to the deputy, and also the conversation that he had with our neighbor. The lights from the patrol car illuminated the tree on the other side of the street that had also been hit and torn from its roots. It was a miracle that the person driving was able to avoid the many cars parked along the street, but the poor tree and light pole weren't so lucky.
The police officer walked down to the neighbors house and about ten minutes later, our neighbor was walked by in handcuffs. It turned out that the truck responsible for the damage belonged to our neighbor and was parked haphazardly in his driveway, although he claimed that he wasn't driving. Since the truck belonged to him and because he couldn't tell the deputy who had been driving, he was going to end up being the one that went to jail.
It took a few hours for everything to be cleaned up. Several of our neighbor's friends ended up coming to his defense, but in the end, the patrol car still pulled away with our neighbor inside.
I am just thankful that no one was hurt. The truck could have easily veered into someones home or another car on the road with an innocent person at the wheel. My teen aged cousin was killed in a drunk driving accident when I was 12. It was my first encounter with death and has made a strong impression on me since. I watched as that side of the family was nearly ripped apart by her death. Even though my cousin was not driving at the time, she made the very bad decision to get a car with her intoxicated boyfriend and failed to fasten her seat belt. Her boyfriend survived the accident, and I remember staring at him at my cousin's funeral, wondering what it was like to have that on your conscience. I remember him begging and pleading with my aunt for her forgiveness. She wouldn't even look at him.
I hope our Saturday morning rude awakening was a wake up call for our neighbor. The only victims of his crime this time were a tree and a light post. It could have been so much worse.
At 1:05 am, my husband and I were rudely awakened by what could only be described as a horrible crashing noise.
We live about five houses in from a somewhat busy street. Usually, the street noise doesn't bother us, especially at night, when the traffic dies down.
Once before, we were dragged from bed by a horrible noise, and a stoned teenager had driven his car into a rock wall on the side of our neighbor's house. Unfortunately, he died that night.
So, when I heard the noise, I immediately feared the worse. The noise had sounded close, although we were both fast asleep at the time. We peered out our front window, our eyes noting that the street seemed darker than usual.
My husband saw it first: the light post that would usually illuminate the darkness was instead lying in a twisted heap in the middle of the street. Then I saw the truck in the nearest yard.
I grabbed the phone to dial 9-1-1. My husband went to see if he could help. By the time he got his shoes on and got out the front door, the truck revved it's engine and pulled out of the yard. As I was reporting the accident to the operator, I noticed another truck leaving our down the street neighbor's driveway and roaring off down the street in the other direction.
A moment later, our neighbor stumbled down the street toward my husband. I watched from inside as they talked for a few minutes. Then my husband came inside, shaking his head. These particular neighbors are "famous" in our development for their raucous parties that go into all hours of the night. When I last left on a business trip, my car picked me up at 4:00 AM, and there was someone passed out on their front porch. We have never called the police, but our good friends' house sits up behind theirs, and the parties have kept them from sleeping many times.
The neighbor told my husband "not to worry," because it had been his friends that knocked down the light pole. The neighbor claimed to have been fast asleep at the time. My husband said that it was clear that he was intoxicated. They spoke a bit longer before our wayward neighbor stumbled home.
A few moments later, a patrol car pulled up. My husband gave a statement of what we had heard and seen to the deputy, and also the conversation that he had with our neighbor. The lights from the patrol car illuminated the tree on the other side of the street that had also been hit and torn from its roots. It was a miracle that the person driving was able to avoid the many cars parked along the street, but the poor tree and light pole weren't so lucky.
The police officer walked down to the neighbors house and about ten minutes later, our neighbor was walked by in handcuffs. It turned out that the truck responsible for the damage belonged to our neighbor and was parked haphazardly in his driveway, although he claimed that he wasn't driving. Since the truck belonged to him and because he couldn't tell the deputy who had been driving, he was going to end up being the one that went to jail.
It took a few hours for everything to be cleaned up. Several of our neighbor's friends ended up coming to his defense, but in the end, the patrol car still pulled away with our neighbor inside.
I am just thankful that no one was hurt. The truck could have easily veered into someones home or another car on the road with an innocent person at the wheel. My teen aged cousin was killed in a drunk driving accident when I was 12. It was my first encounter with death and has made a strong impression on me since. I watched as that side of the family was nearly ripped apart by her death. Even though my cousin was not driving at the time, she made the very bad decision to get a car with her intoxicated boyfriend and failed to fasten her seat belt. Her boyfriend survived the accident, and I remember staring at him at my cousin's funeral, wondering what it was like to have that on your conscience. I remember him begging and pleading with my aunt for her forgiveness. She wouldn't even look at him.
I hope our Saturday morning rude awakening was a wake up call for our neighbor. The only victims of his crime this time were a tree and a light post. It could have been so much worse.
Friday, January 18, 2008
Dr. Google Says. . .
He may have a medical degree in pure evil, but I simply cannot stay way from the good doctor. On days when the fears of miscarriage creep into my brain, I try to find online reassurance.
I stumbled my way across this site, which is for a lab service that does testing for all sorts of pregnancy loss, including recurrent miscarriage.
The exerpt that I found to be particularly comforting is this:
I stumbled my way across this site, which is for a lab service that does testing for all sorts of pregnancy loss, including recurrent miscarriage.
The exerpt that I found to be particularly comforting is this:
"A loss was most likely a chromosomal error if...
- The fetus failed very early. For example, blighted ovums are pregnancy failures in which the fetus never develops. These occur before six-and-a-half weeks and about 90 percent of them are chromosomal errors.
- A long time goes by between the failure of the fetus and the failure of the pregnancy. For example, let's say you had a blighted ovum but your pregnancy was perceived to be clinically normal at twelve weeks. (The placenta can continue to grow and support itself without a baby for up to two months and, therefore, pregnancy hormone levels will continue to rise.) The fact that your placenta was chugging along without a baby on board speaks for adequacy of the uterine environment and adequacy of placental growth and development.
However, if a heartbeat was documented for your baby at seven weeks and you lose your pregnancy at seven weeks and two days, that starts making it less likely that it's a random wrong chromosome number accident. The shorter the death to loss interval, the more likely it is that other factors contributed to the pregnancy loss. Some of the things I always ask patients are: You saw a heartbeat? When? How long after you saw the heartbeat was it before you had any symptoms? What size did the baby measure at death? Did you have any symptoms at a time when you knew the baby was still alive because there was an ultrasound heartbeat?
If you are cramping and bleeding and the baby is alive that obviously has to raise the suspicion that some malfunction in the uterine environment or placenta is causing the baby's death. Your cramping and bleeding means that your tissues are breaking down. The baby is still functioning fine within its little shell but the shell is actually cracking.
My losses have all either been very early (the first bulletpoint) or Gummy Bear's loss, where my body kept doing all of the right things, but nearly two weeks had passed since the baby stopped growing (second bulletpoint). Of course, doctors have always said that the losses were probably chromosomal, but they never gave a reason why they thought that, just quoted the "50% of all early losses" blah, blah that we've all heard.
I am finding this comforting because hopefully this means that we have just had really bad luck. Horrible bad luck, but bad luck nonetheless. My body isn't killing healthy babies (as I have always secretly feared), my babies haven't been healthy and nature has taken it's course (somehow, that's more comforting).
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Sick and Tired
I am thrilled to be pregnant. I just want that made clear. I don't want anyone thinking that this post detracts from my joy.
That being said. . .
I don't think that I have ever felt this tired in my entire life. The combination pregnancy hormones and what I am calling my phenergan hangover make me feel like I have chugged an entire bottle of heavy duty nighttime cough syrup. I feel underwater.
The medications keep me from vomiting, but they don't keep me from feeling like I want to. Every bite seems like a battle. I get hungry, then go stand in front of my refrigerator, desperate for something to appeal to me. Usually, I come away empty handed. Watching television has become tortuous. Has anybody else realized how many food commercials they have on?
Yesterday, my husband went to the store on a mission for two things that I thought sounded pretty good. White bread for cinnamon toast and chocolate pudding. The chocolate pudding was pretty okay, until it didn't settle right and gave me the rolling feeling of nausea for the rest of the night. Continuing his desperate attempts to get me to eat something, he made me toast and brought it to me in bed this morning. What a guy!
Of course, it goes without saying, this is all worth it for our baby. But can the second trimester please hurry up!
That being said. . .
I don't think that I have ever felt this tired in my entire life. The combination pregnancy hormones and what I am calling my phenergan hangover make me feel like I have chugged an entire bottle of heavy duty nighttime cough syrup. I feel underwater.
The medications keep me from vomiting, but they don't keep me from feeling like I want to. Every bite seems like a battle. I get hungry, then go stand in front of my refrigerator, desperate for something to appeal to me. Usually, I come away empty handed. Watching television has become tortuous. Has anybody else realized how many food commercials they have on?
Yesterday, my husband went to the store on a mission for two things that I thought sounded pretty good. White bread for cinnamon toast and chocolate pudding. The chocolate pudding was pretty okay, until it didn't settle right and gave me the rolling feeling of nausea for the rest of the night. Continuing his desperate attempts to get me to eat something, he made me toast and brought it to me in bed this morning. What a guy!
Of course, it goes without saying, this is all worth it for our baby. But can the second trimester please hurry up!
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
I Need A Scanner
I definitely need a way to scan this beautiful picture in so that you can all see this.
Thank you for those prayers.
I am afraid to say how attached I am getting to the little darling. Maybe even time for a nickname. . .
- At 7 weeks, 2 days, our precious little one is measuring a day ahead at 7 weeks, 3 days.
- His or her little heart is beating away a breathtaking 145 BPM.
- The sac looks good, the ovary cysts are shrinking, the doctor says that it all looks good.
- It's amazing the difference that a week can make in size. Incredible.
Thank you for those prayers.
I am afraid to say how attached I am getting to the little darling. Maybe even time for a nickname. . .
Nerves of Steel
Okay, I certainly don't have nerves of steel. I thought that I could summon them by posting such a bold title.
Despite my positive List of Seven, I am still trembling at the thought of a Bad Ultrasound today. I keep trying to picture a Good Ultrasound, but it's difficult.
2:30
Deep breaths until then.
Please, God, let this baby be okay. If not, please help me be okay.
Despite my positive List of Seven, I am still trembling at the thought of a Bad Ultrasound today. I keep trying to picture a Good Ultrasound, but it's difficult.
2:30
Deep breaths until then.
Please, God, let this baby be okay. If not, please help me be okay.
Monday, January 14, 2008
First OB/GYN Appointment
I love my OB's office.
This is something that didn't happen overnight. To recap my history with OBs:
1) My first OB might have been okay. I actually never met him. But when I started bleeding heavily and called the on-call doctor, it happened to be him. He was nice enough (if businesslike) and told me that there was nothing that could be done if I was losing the baby that early. He told me to come in the next day for a HCG blood test. The number came back at 26, which of course for six weeks pregnant was abysmal. His nurse told me that I "wasn't even pregnant," which confused me and devalued my feelings. I her asked for loss support and was flat out told it was for women that had later term losses. Next!
2) My second OB started out all right. She was a little cold at my follow up appointment, but I figured it might be a good counter-balance to my tendency to freak out. However, when she told me that it was my fault that I kept having miscarriages (well, my fault for testing so early and finding out that I was pregnant and then miscarrying), I knew it was time to move on. This post goes into more detail about our final appointment together. Let's just say that I need someone with a level head and some compassion. Next!
3) If you have been following my blog for some time, you might know that my RE is a great doctor, one of the best in the area. She teaches at the University of Washington, which has a great medical school. She is a nice enough person, but at times, her bedside manner leaves something to be desired. Things have gotten better since we started the IVF cycle, but the cynical part of me really resents the fact that we had to get to the "big leagues" (and spend the big dollars) to get to see the softer side of her, but I also don't look a gift horse in the mouth.
To be honest, I have always wondered if perhaps it is me, not the medical professionals, that are lacking. I mean, come on, it's not their fault that I miscarry. Maybe it's not them that lack the bedside manner that I need, perhaps I need too much. Perhaps because of my bad experiences, I want someone to blame, and they are an easy scapegoat. However, one of the great things about doctors is that there are a lot of 'em, so I had the luxury of continuing to look for one that at least seemed able to handle my issues, if nothing else.
When I went to Dr. S's for the first time last fall, I was eight weeks pregnant with Gummy Bear. When the nurse, K, took my history, she shared her own personal story of several miscarriages before her healthy son was born. I knew I had found a soul sister.
When we went in for the ultrasound that showed Gummy Bear had died, she seemed to take it as personally as we did. She gave me the biggest hugs and was always there for us. When I called the following Monday to schedule the D&C after a second high level ultrasound confirmed that the baby had died, she said that she had been praying for a miracle for us all weekend. I knew it came from her heart.
Dr. S also seems to be a kind man, just the sort of person that I would love to bring our baby into the world. He is the perfect combination of matter-of-fact (I am hysterical enough for both of us, thank you very much) and compassionate. He struck just the right chord of empathy for what we had been through and positive thinking for the future in our follow-up appointment. He also went to medical school with my RE, so it's good that they have a decent relationship with each other and don't mind "sharing" me for the first trimester. All of this combined to let me know that I had found my OB.
The day after we got our positive beta, I called to get in with Dr. S. I knew it was early, but his schedule fills quickly. Turns out that it was a good thing that I called. He wasn't taking new patients. I was very disappointed, but asked if he or K could refer us to someone else. When K saw that it was me, she made an exception, and they took me on as a patient and even worked me into the schedule earlier than they normally see OB patients.
Today was my "intake" appointment, which is basically just the background stuff and some basic blood work. K was amazing, as usual. She told me that she was concerned about any anxiety that I might have and said that anytime I needed to hear the heartbeat or "take a peek" to ease my fears, just to call her. She even offered an ultrasound today, but we are going in for the ultrasound tomorrow with Dr. M, and my husband wasn't there. It made me feel great to have her support. She gave me a big hug and told me that she had been waiting for this day for a long time and was so excited for us. K said that she feels it is a "sisterhood," those of us that have had losses and that we need to stick together. Talk about somebody who gets it!
I feel good today. I was starving this morning and ate breakfast with no problem. I can't take the Zofran on workdays as I drive constantly for my job, so it freaks me out a little that I feel so . . . normal. I actually don't feel pregnant at all today. But I haven't had a speck of spotting, so I am just hoping that it's one of those good pregnancy days that normal women would embrace.
One more sleep until the ultrasound. It is scheduled for 2:30 PST tomorrow. I will be 7 weeks, 2 days. Praying for the best. . .
This is something that didn't happen overnight. To recap my history with OBs:
1) My first OB might have been okay. I actually never met him. But when I started bleeding heavily and called the on-call doctor, it happened to be him. He was nice enough (if businesslike) and told me that there was nothing that could be done if I was losing the baby that early. He told me to come in the next day for a HCG blood test. The number came back at 26, which of course for six weeks pregnant was abysmal. His nurse told me that I "wasn't even pregnant," which confused me and devalued my feelings. I her asked for loss support and was flat out told it was for women that had later term losses. Next!
2) My second OB started out all right. She was a little cold at my follow up appointment, but I figured it might be a good counter-balance to my tendency to freak out. However, when she told me that it was my fault that I kept having miscarriages (well, my fault for testing so early and finding out that I was pregnant and then miscarrying), I knew it was time to move on. This post goes into more detail about our final appointment together. Let's just say that I need someone with a level head and some compassion. Next!
3) If you have been following my blog for some time, you might know that my RE is a great doctor, one of the best in the area. She teaches at the University of Washington, which has a great medical school. She is a nice enough person, but at times, her bedside manner leaves something to be desired. Things have gotten better since we started the IVF cycle, but the cynical part of me really resents the fact that we had to get to the "big leagues" (and spend the big dollars) to get to see the softer side of her, but I also don't look a gift horse in the mouth.
To be honest, I have always wondered if perhaps it is me, not the medical professionals, that are lacking. I mean, come on, it's not their fault that I miscarry. Maybe it's not them that lack the bedside manner that I need, perhaps I need too much. Perhaps because of my bad experiences, I want someone to blame, and they are an easy scapegoat. However, one of the great things about doctors is that there are a lot of 'em, so I had the luxury of continuing to look for one that at least seemed able to handle my issues, if nothing else.
When I went to Dr. S's for the first time last fall, I was eight weeks pregnant with Gummy Bear. When the nurse, K, took my history, she shared her own personal story of several miscarriages before her healthy son was born. I knew I had found a soul sister.
When we went in for the ultrasound that showed Gummy Bear had died, she seemed to take it as personally as we did. She gave me the biggest hugs and was always there for us. When I called the following Monday to schedule the D&C after a second high level ultrasound confirmed that the baby had died, she said that she had been praying for a miracle for us all weekend. I knew it came from her heart.
Dr. S also seems to be a kind man, just the sort of person that I would love to bring our baby into the world. He is the perfect combination of matter-of-fact (I am hysterical enough for both of us, thank you very much) and compassionate. He struck just the right chord of empathy for what we had been through and positive thinking for the future in our follow-up appointment. He also went to medical school with my RE, so it's good that they have a decent relationship with each other and don't mind "sharing" me for the first trimester. All of this combined to let me know that I had found my OB.
The day after we got our positive beta, I called to get in with Dr. S. I knew it was early, but his schedule fills quickly. Turns out that it was a good thing that I called. He wasn't taking new patients. I was very disappointed, but asked if he or K could refer us to someone else. When K saw that it was me, she made an exception, and they took me on as a patient and even worked me into the schedule earlier than they normally see OB patients.
Today was my "intake" appointment, which is basically just the background stuff and some basic blood work. K was amazing, as usual. She told me that she was concerned about any anxiety that I might have and said that anytime I needed to hear the heartbeat or "take a peek" to ease my fears, just to call her. She even offered an ultrasound today, but we are going in for the ultrasound tomorrow with Dr. M, and my husband wasn't there. It made me feel great to have her support. She gave me a big hug and told me that she had been waiting for this day for a long time and was so excited for us. K said that she feels it is a "sisterhood," those of us that have had losses and that we need to stick together. Talk about somebody who gets it!
I feel good today. I was starving this morning and ate breakfast with no problem. I can't take the Zofran on workdays as I drive constantly for my job, so it freaks me out a little that I feel so . . . normal. I actually don't feel pregnant at all today. But I haven't had a speck of spotting, so I am just hoping that it's one of those good pregnancy days that normal women would embrace.
One more sleep until the ultrasound. It is scheduled for 2:30 PST tomorrow. I will be 7 weeks, 2 days. Praying for the best. . .
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