This, too, shall pass

That's my mantra these days. I tell myself this constantly, as I struggle to get out of bed, as I struggle to eat, as I struggle to get a load of laundry done. Life with this second pregnancy has become one big struggle.

Since some people want to know and since I don't mind sharing, no, we weren't planning this pregnancy, at least not this soon. But, here we are, expecting our second baby in August of 2010. Yes, that nearly makes Will and his little brother or sister "Irish twins" (kiddos born within 12 months of each other), but not quite. However, with the Irish last name Conway, we've certainly taken our fair share of teasing. Lots of people have given us the "You know how this happens, right?" which is my least favorite. Thank you, yes, we know. Brilliant joke, truly hysterical.

Anyway, we went to see Dr. Pickler last week and she did an ultrasound and found that our wee little one is growing perfectly and right on track, with a heart rate of 159 bpm. It was absolutely crazy to be back in her office, back on the table, looking at a monitor showing a teeny-tiny baby. Sometimes, waking up in my new place and with this new knowledge, I feel completely lost for a few minutes. Like a wise friend once said, "You have to find the new normal." I'm still looking for it. If you see my new normal, will you send it in my general direction?

Dr. Pickler also prescribed me an anti-nausea medicine called Zofran. I take it every 12 hours and haven't missed a dose yet; I utterly depend on it. It doesn't completely eliminate the nausea, but it does take the edge off. I was never, ever this ill with William. I had queasiness, certainly, sensitivity to smells, fatigue, all that stuff, but never this kind of debilitating sickness. There are smells I absolutely can't stand -- even my kitchen countertops. They are a custom concrete with a polyurethane finish, and for some reason, I can SMELL that darned polyurethane finish and it makes me want to be sick to smell it. You can imagine how many dishes I've done lately. Oh, and coffee. The smell of coffee makes me want to run for the hills. Oh coffee, my old friend. Sometimes I think I'll never see you again.

So here I am, popping Zofran and fighting sleep every waking moment (one of Zofran's lovely side effects). I hold my nose while I feed Will his baby food, and especially while I change his diapers. I live off of cinnamon toast, tomato soup, and the magnificent kindness of my husband, who takes care of us every single moment he's at home. He sends me to bed and brings me Sprite, and rubs my back and holds me when I can't stop crying in frustration.

I'm not in a good way. Don't get me wrong, I'm absolutely thankful for this second child, and I know I'll be excited once second trimester (and its blessed relief) comes along, but right now...right now I'm struggling. I could use prayers and babysitting and meals for my husband, but mostly just prayers. I pray constantly for God's strength because I have none of my own. And I constantly tell myself, this, too, shall pass.

A Christmas surprise...

Birth Story, Part 2 (a reluctant telling)

Me and my little dream come true

It's hard to believe a month has passed since Will came into our lives. I can hardly fathom how fast infants grow, and in some ways I want time to slow down, but in other ways, I want more distance between me and the day that Will was born. I keep putting off writing the rest of his birth story and sharing it here because in all honesty, it was the scariest, most pain-filled day of my life. The only shining point was the moment that Will was born and I heard him cry...at that moment I was on an operating table, limp with exhaustion, simply worn out from labor that had gone nowhere. When I heard him cry, my own tears fell -- tears of such unbelievable relief, because I knew I had delivered him safely into the world and he was no longer in danger inside of me. Any woman who has experienced pre-eclampsia or even the threat of pre-eclampsia knows what I'm talking about -- there is nothing quite like knowing that your body is slowly becoming a toxic environment for the child you so desperately love and want. In the days leading up to his birth, I felt truly betrayed by my body. I couldn't understand why my blood pressure, which had been textbook-perfect up to 38 weeks, was suddenly climbing quite steadily toward toxemia. And the betrayal I felt eclipsed the day my labor was induced. I'm going to give the short version of what happened, because I just don't like re-living it.

I spent the day on massive amounts of medicine that were supposed to tell my body to deliver Will -- only my body didn't quite get the message. I had contractions -- very painful contractions, in fact -- but contractions that accomplished nothing. My body didn't dilate and Will didn't descend. After 14 hours of labor, I was only at 4 centimeters. After 14 hours, after going through 2 epidurals (the first failed and the second one wasn't administered for 2 hours after the failure of the first), periods of vomiting, and body-shaking, teeth-chattering pain, I was running a fever, Will's heartbeat was decelerating with each contraction, and suddenly I was wearing an oxygen mask -- after all that, I knew I was done. Dr. Pickler came into my room and I knew she had come to talk realities with me. I was ready to beg for a C-section but I soon realized that begging was unnecessary -- she was in full support of doing one and I barely listened to the benefit-risk-ratio speech that she gave. I said "Let's do it" and quite literally 5 minutes later I was watching Marty don scrubs and I was being prepped for surgery. Ten minutes later I was in a freezing-cold operating room, nodding my head to the anesthesiologist that I couldn't feel my legs or belly. Fifteen minutes later, right before she hung the curtain, I locked eyes with Dr. Pickler and she winked at me. Funny, but that wink communicated so much -- it said, "I've done this a zillion times and I'm going to take care of you." Then the curtain was hung, Marty sat down behind me, and I felt the first sensation of the C-section being performed. I felt pressure, then lots of pressure, then tugging and pulling, then I heard Dr. Pickler say, "Well hello, cutie-pie," and I heard my son take his first breath and let it out in a precious little cry. He was taken immediately to a warmer and I looked back at Marty and said, "I'm fine, please go to Will." Marty got up and then my nurse, Teresa, who had been such a help to me all night, ducked under the curtain and crouched down to squeeze my shoulder and she had watery eyes when she said simply, "Congratulations." A few minutes later, Marty came around the curtain and perched my little boy on my shoulder, and as I laid eyes on him for the first time, I was shocked at how beautiful his little face was. Of course I expected to love my baby no matter what his appearance at birth, but it's true that C-section babies are really more adorable because they don't get squished! More than that, I saw his stunning blue eyes blinking at me, and I kissed his unbelievably soft cheek, and I couldn't believe he was mine. I had tears streaming down my face and all I could think to say was, "I love you my little William." All too soon Marty had to give him to the nurses because my surgery was finishing. I was rolled to one side so my epidural could be removed, and I remember thinking, don't take that away so soon! Because of a previous "chemical reaction" to morphine I was not put on the morphine drip post-surgery, but rather given an IV injection of a different painkiller. The last thing I remember in the operating room was my teeth starting to chatter again...then I woke up back in my room, in the worst, most terrible pain I've ever experienced in my life. Understand that I've had my appendix taken out and I've had a softball-sized cyst removed from my right ovary -- abdominal surgery wasn't exactly new to me. But I'd never felt anything like this and I couldn't understand why I wasn't being given painkillers. I was in such a fog but I knew that the only person with me was Teresa, and I looked over and saw that she was injecting something more into my IV. Because my teeth were chattering so badly, I struggled to tell her, "I'm in terrible pain." She nodded her head and told me she was administering painkillers every 5 minutes, and she had just given me all she was legally allowed to. Then Marty came into the room and quickly saw that I was in a bad way. Teresa explained to him that I'd already been given all the medicine she could give me and she was going to have to leave for a minute to get permission to administer a different medicine. I don't remember much after that. Marty says I looked at him and said "Help me" and then passed out from the pain. He says I came to and then passed out once more before Teresa was back to give me something else. Whatever she gave me finally worked because I felt the pain level go down just a notch and the relief was tremendous. We still don't know why, but the initial painkiller I was administered following surgery just didn't work, and as Teresa said, I came down from the epidural and suddenly "felt everything." Anyway, I must have dozed for awhile because the next thing I remember is a nurse wheeling Will's bassinet into my room and my family being there, speaking quietly in the soft light. The nurse put William into my arms and I started rocking him gently and touching his face. I felt like we both had just survived a tremendous ordeal and I felt badly that he had experienced any stress from the whole thing. Then I remember smiling to myself and thinking that parental guilt starts right away!

And there you have it -- Will's birth story. I hope it doesn't scare anyone away from having kids because it goes without saying that getting William was worth all of it. You hear horror stories about births and I reluctantly find myself in possession of my own such horror story. But, like Marty has said to me since, anything worth having is often something we have to struggle to get, and getting Will here was a mighty struggle. So will I face this struggle again and have more kids? To answer that, I first want to point out that I shared a happy picture above to show that a month later, the struggle is beginning to fade from memory -- well, at least the sharper edges of it. And secondly, here's a final anecdote from the story...I remember at last getting the green light for the second epidural and sitting up in my bed to curve my back over and be administered some blessed relief -- I trembled through another contraction before I felt the bee-sting of the needle, and then I looked at Marty and said, "You know, after all this, I still want more kids." Marty smiled and said, "Honey, you're more of a man than I am." The doctor (a man) behind me joined in and said, "It's so true -- if it were up to men to have children there would be no people." It's one of the few things I like remembering about that day -- I know I was a real trooper. I felt the strength of my maternal instincts and the power of womanhood in the hardest thing we're called upon to do. I've heard that some women who have C-sections feel like their surgery was somehow a cop-out; trust me, I am NOT one of these women. Because trust me, enduring a C-section is no picnic! And for me, for this birth, it was the obvious, clear, correct choice. And now that I've had one, I'll always have the option to give birth this way again. That's a decision we'll make later on when we get there, but I like to imagine that the next time I give birth, it will be something that happens in a scheduled way, with lots of drugs (that work), and in a manner that I'm now accustomed to -- so that might answer that! I think I'm entitled to an easier birth next time, don't you think? :)

All's Will That Ends Will: Birth Story, Part 1

As I was preparing to leave the hospital last Thursday, my mom was blow-drying my hair for me and I was musing over the events of the previous 4 days, when this version of the famous Shakespearean phrase popped into my head. Maybe it was the drugs still pumping through my system or maybe it was my fallback sense of humor about scary things that prompted it, but when I had this thought I burst out into giggles and could barely get out through the hysterical laughing, "All's Will that ends Will, Mom!"

And how true it is. Prepare yourself; I'm including lots of details (icky ones also) and it's a pretty long story. Hey -- it was a pretty LONG day!

There's some forestory to the actual story, but I haven't the mental energy to go into all that, for right now, at least. So I'll start with Monday morning, July 6, at 4 AM. The alarm went off, signaling the end of a very fitful night of sleep on my part. We were scheduled to be at the hospital at 6 AM for an induction, following a couple weeks of slowly worsening pre-preeclampsia symptoms (yes, apparently, there is such a thing -- as my doctor put it, "you're on the path"). Dr. Pickler wanted to avoid having me toxic-sick as I went into labor, so the induction was the appropriate choice, and even after all that ended up happening on Monday, I stand by that choice! Anyway, I heard my parents and sister Katie stirring downstairs while Marty started coffee and I jumped in the shower, hands shaking with excited, nervous energy. I couldn't believe the day had actually, finally arrived. Nine months really does begin to feel like ninety months near the end! Despite how early we got up, we ended up running late and I was throwing things into my suitcase when my Kate called me (she was up nursing her own sweet babe at that hour) to wish me well and to give me her love. It was my first favorite memory of the day, and even though I had to rush off the phone, it put such warmth in my heart that I'll never, ever forget it. Thank you, my Kate. Then we hauled all our necessities downstairs -- it looked like I was going on a vacation instead of checking into the hospital! -- and it was time for a quick swallow of my Mama's blueberry muffins and some picture-taking and then we were out the door and on our way. We arrived about 20 minutes late, but I figured since they couldn't start without me, it probably wouldn't be too big of a deal.

Me at 39 weeks, 2 days, on the morning of the induction

The first hour was all administrative stuff. We got assigned our room and then I signed form after form after form, most of which I was too distracted to read properly. I hope I didn't sign away anything valuable...! We also had a quick meeting with the anesthesiologist, and I assured her I'd definitely be wanting her services at some point that day. Then our nurses came on duty at 7 AM and we met the two Rachels. Rachel #1 was a nurse around my age and was mentoring Rachel #2 (fresh out of school, it seemed) through all the procedures, so Rachel #1 really took her time and did things carefully, which I very much appreciated. They were both such sweet girls that I forgave Rachel #1 for a well-placed but painfully done IV -- it made my toes curl, it hurt so bad! At that point I thought, Becky, you can't be a wimp today! Buck up girl!

Then I got changed into my gown and around 8:00, the Rachels hooked me up to a big, fat bag of Pitocin, assuring me since they had to start me on a slow drip, I probably wouldn't feel the effects anytime soon. Then I just sat in bed and chatted with my family until Dr. Pickler arrived around 8:30 to get the show on the road. She checked me and said I was "an almost 2" centimeters, and that she'd like to break my water. I'd decided beforehand that I wanted an epidural before my water was broken, because I knew from the experiences of others that without that bag of water in place, contractions feel about 100 times more intense! I shared this concern with Dr. Pickler and she told me that while she understood my fear, that if I didn't have my water broken, "I could sit on a bag of Pitocin for 2 days with little or no progress" and it was simply too early to get the epidural. Well, I was there to have a baby, dangit, so I didn't want to entertain any notions of little or no progress (oh the irony of THAT...read on). So, I said, "Let's do it, Dr. Pickler." Thus began attempt #1 to break my water. And let me tell you, I used every focusing/breathing technique IN THE BOOK to get through it. Apparently, my cervix was really high and even after much effort, Dr. Pickler -- "a seasoned water-breaker from way back" -- was unable to break my water. That was frustrating, especially since it hurt like the dickens to get through it and gained me nothing! Dr. Pickler then had to leave to do office hours, but told me she'd be back at lunch to try again and that I could happily dilate on my Pitocin drip until she returned. I promised her I'd do my best.

I can't remember when -- around 10:30 AM? -- I started feeling the contractions. The Rachels had slowly upped my Pitocin drip until I was really taking in quite a bit by mid-morning. By this time, also, I'd been assigned a new nurse who'd be with me throughout the day, until the shift ended at 7 PM. This angel's name was Shannon and I don't think I could have asked for a better nurse: she was kind, attentive, sweet, and funny, and took me SERIOUSLY on every point. She was with me during the failed water-breaking attempt #1 and didn't let me get discouraged about it. Anyway, around 11 AM, I told Shannon that I was beginning to get interested in a painkiller of some kind. Now, I was using all my breathing techniques, plus using all my courage and energy to get through the contractions, but it must be said I was on a monster-drip of Pitocin and the stuff ain't kind. Relentless is more like it! So Shannon checked me and said I was pretty much dilated to 3 (I guess they round up?) and I could have an injection of Staidol (I have no idea how this is spelled) to take off the edge until I was more inclined to get the epidural, which for some reason I was still rejecting at this point, thinking it was just too early. She also told me I could have a Staidol injection once an hour, every hour, and that it wouldn't interfere at all with my epidural if I suddenly decided I wanted that, too. Essentially, she didn't have to twist my arm and I felt better as soon as the stuff went into my IV. I felt much more comfortable and even started to doze for awhile. I stayed this way, taking Staidol injections and dozing, until around 1 PM, when Dr. Pickler came back. Right away we started water-breaking attempt #2, and it did not go well. Dr. Pickler had to try 3 different "instruments" (I can't even go there trying to describe the medieval torture devices they keep on hand for poor laboring mothers) and I lost count on how many times she tried. At one point, she sat back, put her hand on my knee, and said "God's trying to tell me something but I don't know what that is." I just looked at her and said, "He's telling you to keep trying because I'm on board here! I want to DO this! Keep going!" Dr. Pickler just looked at me with a half-smile and said something about my determination, and I said something back like, you better believe it!!! I told her, just do what you have to do, don't worry about me, and let's get it done. So, she tried again and I could tell she was not being as considerate of my pain threshold this time, which I oddly appreciated, but like I said, I wanted her to get it done. And with that, it was done -- I felt the gush of water and Shannon, Dr. Pickler, Marty, and I all clapped and celebrated. My first success of the day! Shannon then got me comfortable and settled and Dr. Pickler left, telling me to try not to have the baby before she could get back after 5 PM. We all smiled, especially me, genuinely thinking this was an outlier possibility, at least.

The first 5-10 minutes post-water-breaking, I thought, Hey, this isn't too bad. Then about 15 minutes into it, I started to really feel the contractions, even though I'd just had a Staidol injection at 1 PM and was something like a half-hour away from my next injection. Then in the next 10-15 minutes, I really started to feel some pain. I got out of bed and worked with Marty using the techniques we learned in childbirth class to sway and breathe and meditate through the contractions. This honestly helped a bit, but not a whole lot. Shannon came in and asked how I was feeling, and I told her "not good." She then showed me on the monitor that as soon as my water broke, my body had taken over and gone into its own labor pattern, and I was having contractions on top of contractions -- natural ones on top of Pitocin/chemically-induced ones. She said, no wonder you're in pain! Then Shannon said the magical "e" word and before I could think twice about it, I was signing a release form to receive the epidural. The anesthesiologist reappeared and honestly, I was so uncomfortable by this point that I didn't really hesitate nor have the energy to be scared of the epidural administration process. Shannon let Marty stay with me and he held me close while Shannon watched my contractions and the anesthesiologist gave me directions. I curved my back outward and prepared myself for the "bee sting" and was pleasantly surprised to discover that I barely felt it (maybe it was all those wretched contractions that overwhelmed any other sensation?). The doctor assured me I'd done a great job, taped down the catheter in my back, and watched my blood pressure for a few minutes while the epidural took effect. I felt my legs slowly going numb, though I could still move them somewhat. Soon, I was really feeling good and felt sleepy, too, and the doctor was satisfied that all was well and I'd be comfortable until the pushing stage.

Sadly, that was not to be. To be continued...

a scare (long story and not for the weak of stomach)

Yesterday was a very bad day.

It all started on Saturday night into Sunday morning, when I woke myself up...whimpering! I had a blood vessel in the back of my head, on the right side, that was just throbbing. I have a history of migraines and I know exactly what they feel like, and this was simply not a migraine. I took Tylenol and went back to sleep, hoping to wake up feeling better. Well, I woke up feeling worse and took a Butalbital, which is the headache medicine I was given in second trimester when I had chronic tension headaches. After some food and coffee and then a long nap, I woke up feeling even worse. At this point I paged the doctor on-call at my OB/GYN's office, and sadly, got Dr. Pickler, our least favorite. I've sort of made peace with her, attributing her business-like attitude to strict professionalism, which is certainly respectable and a desirable trait in a doctor. However, sometimes you really just want to be listened to and cared about, professionalism be darned! Let's just say she didn't listen to me, didn't ask me any questions, acted extremely annoyed to be on the phone, and then told me to either go to the ER or keep taking Tylenol and call the office in the morning. What kind of options are those? To me, it was either "go bother someone else or bother me tomorrow." Ugh. Fortunately, after more sleep, I woke up feeling a wee bit better, even though I had an empty-head kind of feeling.

Then Sunday night into Monday morning, I had the same experience: woke myself up whimpering in pain. This time, not only was the blood vessel pounding and throbbing, but I'd also lost the hearing in my right ear! So as soon as the doctor's office opened on Monday, I called and pleaded with the front office staff to let me speak to a nurse ASAP, because I was having scary head pains and aches and I really needed help. Thank God the girl I spoke with was feeling sympathetic, because I had a nurse call me back within 10 minutes. I told the nurse what was going on, and she said, "let's not mess with appointments, just come on in." So I called Marty who raced home and picked me up, and we were in the office being seen by Dr. Hinton (our favorite) within the hour. I told Dr. Hinton the whole story and he started out by looking in my right ear, but he couldn't see anything because of too much gunk (sorry to be gross!). Then he touched my head and asked, "have you been running a fever?" And I had to confess that I didn't know, that I hadn't even thought to check. "Well you're burning up!" he told me, and had the nurse come in and take my temp, which was 100.1 degrees. Not too bad, but not good in a pregnant woman, for sure. Then Dr. Hinton started moving my head in different directions, and when he pushed my head back toward my spine, I had pain shoot down my spinal column, which he noticed when I flinched. He moved my head around again and then pushed back, and the pain was worse the second time. Dr. Hinton kind of made a face and left the room for a minute. When he came back in, he sat down on the stool and said, "Well, I'm sending you to the emergency room. I have a very real concern that you may have viral meningitis." I looked over and saw all the color leave Marty's face. Of course, this set off a rush of questions, but Dr. Hinton could only answer so many because he was going to hand me over to another, different set of experts.

So we walked out of the office and to the car, and I called my mom and I think I nearly scared her to death. I could tell she was extremely upset when I got off the phone with her, even though she was trying to hide it. So we showed up in the ER, only to have them send us to the Women's Center because of my obvious late-term pregnancy. We got to the Women's Center, only to have them tell us that we needed to go to the ER. By this time I was already losing patience -- my nerves were already fraying because of course, my head is still pounding at this point! -- so I told the Women's Center admin person that the hospital needed to figure out who would see me, and then someone needed to take me to that person because I wasn't going to keep walking around with a pounding headache and suspected meningitis. Sorry -- I needed to indulge in a bit of a diva moment! (I could tell my hubby thought this was pretty hilarious.) So I got wheeled back to the ER and was shown to a room about an hour later (and you all know how slow time progresses in a hospital, so it felt like 3 hours). After filling out paperwork and waiting another hour in my ER room, a nurse practitioner finally came in and asked me a million questions and told us she'd be working with an attending physician (who we never saw) on my case. She went ahead with the suspected diagnosis of viral meningitis and started all the testing. One of the first things she decided to do was have one of the nurses irrigate my ears, so she could get a good look at my inner ears. While one nurse, Tony, started on this, the other nurse, Rob, got started on my IV and bloodwork. Tony was quiet as he went about his business, but Rob was very talkative and very interested in my case. He offered all the insight he could give, then got my IV line going with absolutely no problems and no bleeding. I was duly impressed! Meanwhile, Tony got my left ear irrigated and my inner ear looked fine, so he moved on to my right ear. Here's where we're not exactly sure what happened: a) either Tony gave up because he encountered a mass in my ear canal, or b) Tony decided to finish later because it was time to take me to radiology for a CT scan of my brain. Anyway, off we went to radiology, and we met another great guy who was the CT technician. He had me sign a waiver form about how much radiation my unborn child would be exposed to (talk about guilty feelings as a parent, oh my GOSH), and then he got me settled on the table and piled lead blankets on top of my belly. At first this was okay, but as they scooted me back into the machine and I knew I'd have to lie still for 5 minutes, suddenly it dawned on me that I couldn't take a deep breath. Then just as suddenly, my little William started flipping out and trying to turn himself in any number of ways, and I realized he could feel all that weight on him and it was making him uncomfortable, too. At this point, I could barely breathe and I felt so bad for the 2 of us and I knew I was on the verge of tears, I started singing "Jesus Loves Me" in my head and praying, praying, praying that these horrible 5 minutes would pass immediately. Finally when I couldn't take it anymore, I cried out to the room in general, "I can't breathe!" The tech said, "oh we're done, I'm coming!" and rushed into the room and got the lead blankets off me and helped me sit up, and he realized that I was sweating and crying and breathing fast, so he got me a cold wet washcloth and got me wheeled back out to my husband as quickly as he could. I grabbed Marty's hand and said, "Look, this is just a headache. These people need to figure this out right now and stop torturing me and stop stressing out my baby!!!" My poor Marty, all he could do was comfort me and assure me that they'd figure it out as soon as they could. They wheeled me back to my ER room, and within a half-hour, my bloodwork and CT scan had all come back with negative/normal results. All along the plan had been to ultimately do a spinal tap on me, which is the definitive method for determining meningitis. However, Rob was the one who gave us the test results and right away he recommended against pursuing the spinal tap, since all my other tests were within normal parameters. Fine by me, I said, but what's causing the headache? Rob started to conjecture a bit and theorized that a hormonal shift in my body, due to labor being somewhat imminent for me, could be causing a very bad hormonal headache. Well, I wasn't buying, and I could tell Marty didn't believe it, either. Heck, I could tell Rob didn't quite believe it. So Rob left to get the nurse practitioner to come in and chat, and Marty got up to go update my mom. While he was on the phone with my mom, she asked him if anyone had ever finished irrigating my right ear. Marty said he wasn't sure, but he'd make sure it happened. Marty came back in and said to Rob, "did her right ear ever get looked at?" And Rob looked at it and could tell it wasn't fully irrigated yet, so he set about finishing the irrigation process (which hurts like the dickens, by the way, since they shoot a huge needle of cold water and hydrogen peroxide right into your ear canal). Finally Rob said he could see a mass plugging the canal, and finally he got it pulled out, and when he did so, I got immediately dizzy and nauseated and disoriented. Then he quick-looked at my ear and said with triumph, "There's your problem, baby-doll, that's the worst-looking inner ear infection I've ever seen!" This is apparently what happened...at some point on Saturday, my infected eardrum perforated and burst, and bled into some surrounding ear wax, causing a build-up of dried blood/fluid that plugged up my ear canal. Because of this mass, I didn't experience the normal dizziness/disorientation that occurs with an inner ear infection, because my tympanic membrane was being held nicely in place. However, this caused a massive headache, a fever, feelings of pressure in my neck, and of course, the loss of hearing in my right ear! Unfortunately for me, this so closely mimicked meningitis that it became the concern and the target of investigation. Unfortunate, in that it caused hours and hours of panic and fear and worry that I might have bacterial meningitis, which is beyond scary in all its implications; that I might have viral meningitis and be looking at an emergency C-section; or that I had something else equally scary and equally threatening to our unborn baby.

So...you can imagine the relief we felt when we got a very simple explanation for a mysterious headache. After a course of pregnancy-safe antibiotics for the infection and some ramped-up Tylenol for pain, I shall be good as gold and quite healthy when I go to deliver a baby in about 3-4 weeks. What a huge, huge relief!!!

Morals of the story:

1. You know your own body. If you have a gut feeling that something isn't right, keep demanding diagnostic procedures and tests until something is found. Several people tried to convince me that my headache was just a "different-feeling migraine." Um, what about that fever then? I knew, KNEW, this wasn't true. I knew something was off, something was different, something wasn't right. Keep the medical staff attending you on their toes until they find something! Believe your instincts!
2. Don't let a doctor blow you off. Go to a different doctor, even in the same practice. Don't worry about ruffling feathers.
3. Stay as calm as you can, even in the face of truly frightening scenarios. Pray, pray, pray. Jesus is near!

Updates

First off, the missing picture:

~30 weeks~

(right before getting into that PT Cruiser and driving 7 hours to Indiana!)

Secondly, Marty's office baby shower: We had such a great time. The office ordered up a good old-fashioned Southern BBQ lunch, with pulled pork BBQ, baked beans, potato salad, cole slaw, sweet tea (all those kind of fixin's). Then we had vanilla and chocolate cupcakes for dessert. Personally, I drank diet/caffeine-free Coke like it was water (probably should have just had WATER), but it tasted so amazingly good to me. Then it was time for the gifties, and we were once again overwhelmed by the generosity and kindness of those whom God has filled our lives with...

Marty handed me presents and we took turns opening them and reading the sweet cards.

This was a cute little ducky-themed gift. Inside the package I'm holding is "The Fuzzy Duckling" (the Little Golden Book). I had this book when I was little and I think I read my Little Golden Books for years and years. This particular one came with a matching onesie! The little ducky that Marty is holding is actually a bottle holder -- you stick a bottle down the ducky's mouth and your child can hold a friend while he drinks his bottle. So cute!

Few things delight us like big ole boxes of Pampers. This was a box of size 2's, which is where we're shallowing in the stock-up pile. Yay for diaper stocking!

Among the other gifts were treasures such as a onesie that says "When God made me, He was just showing off" and another one that proclaims "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree." I love these little "statement" onesies. I gave Marty a onesie for Will (pre-Father's Day) that says "If you think I'm cute, you should see my Daddy." We also received some football-themed items, much to Marty's delight. He is so excited to sit down with his son on NFL opening night and introduce Will to the wonders of football. :)

Here's me with Marty's dear friend Brian, the other lawyer in the office (who has a little boy and gives us great advice!):

It was so much fun for me to see Marty's friends and coworkers spoil him and love on him like they did. I know what a jewel of a man I have, but it's so lovely to experience others appreciating him, too. Thank you so much, Tennessee Department of Labor! You guys rock!

Finally, a few hours later, we went to our 32-week appointment at the doctor's. We saw Dr. Pickler again, who is the most business-like of the 3 OBs we see, but she can be pretty darn funny, too. Stats from this visit: 1) my blood pressure is staying almost exactly the same, and I'm so thankful for this -- 108/64; 2) I gained 3 pounds -- not loving this, but I know this is super-normal for mid-third trimester; 3) my fundus measurement was 34 cms, exactly what Marty and I had predicted in the car on the way to the office. I seem to be staying right at 2 cms ahead of my gestational progress. The only thing that bothered me this visit was Will's heartbeat, which Dr. Pickler first found at 117 bpm. This really scared me at first, since his heartbeat has never been that low, but Dr. Pickler stimulated Will with the doppler and she says he must have been sleeping, because he woke up, moved around, and his heartbeat went straight into the low 140's. She said that a reactive baby like that is a good, healthy baby, and I will just have to take her word for it, I know. I can't quite get that feeling of worry out of my mind, though...

~32 weeks~
(in the doctor's office)

One other thing I forgot to mention -- we "graduated" from childbirth class on Monday night, with a certificate and everything! So many baby doings this week that I failed to mention one of the most important ones. My brother-in-law John asked me what this actually "certifies" us to be or do, and I said, I really think it just certifies us as "not completely ignorant on the methods of childbirth." I really enjoyed our classes, even though the final night was both scary -- we watched a video where they spare you NOTHING in the ways of sounds and images -- and delightful -- we toured the Women's Center and saw birthing rooms, and most importantly, the nursery. There was a little peanut in there, just under 7 pounds, and he was squirming in that wonderful infant way in his bassinet -- it was all I could do to resist the urge to go scoop him up and coo at him. My maternal urges are crazy-strong right now! Just a few weeks to go, just a few weeks to go...

for sake of comparison...

~22 weeks~

~31 weeks~

I just saw these two pictures side-by-side and had to share: what a difference 9 weeks makes! And I have 7 weeks to go -- isn't that scary?

Catching up: business trip, baby shower, birthing classes, and body language

Yep, that's a hefty blog post title, but I have much to cover. It seems so odd that I haven't updated my blog in over 2 weeks, but I think I may have set records for being busy (at least for pregnant girls) in these last 2 weeks!

Business trip: first off, I should mention that we went to our first childbirth class the (Monday) night before I left for my trip, but more on that later. Let's just say for now, though, that it gave me quite a bit of food for thought for my 7-hour drive to Indianapolis! Anyway, I departed on Tuesday morning in my rental car (a PT Cruiser!) after giving my Marty a few lingering kisses goodbye -- it was pretty awful leaving him and the safety I feel with him, especially in these last few weeks of pregnancy. However, I was armed with copies of my prenatal records, just in case something were to happen while I was away from my doctors and hospital (and husband!). The 7-hour trip was pretty brutal, both on my concentration (I get very sleepy in the afternoons) and on my bladder! But I finally made it to the Omni downtown Indy, where I'd be staying the next couple nights, and then met up with my coworkers Caron and Teri. The 3 of us function as a vendor editorial team for a few writing teams at _____ (big pharma company in Indy; for some reason I'm loath to use the actual name here -- privacy concerns and all that?). Anyway, we went to Spaghetti Factory and had the greatest time with each other; it's so funny because we "talk" on email every day but have only physically met twice! I also met my boss for the first time in the Omni lobby that night -- who else can say that after reporting to your boss for nearly a year??? Work-from-home is a crazy thing sometimes! The next day was a series of meeting people and sitting in meetings. That day we did a lot of walking around to different meeting rooms, and by the afternoon, I was coming down a staircase when I suddenly had a series of Braxton-Hicks contractions. I didn't tell anyone right away, just wanting to stay on my feet until we reached our destination. This was only my second experience with Braxton-Hicks, and for some reason, I always break out into a sweat when I feel them, because they come on with swift intensity and are pretty strong and border on painful. They ended as soon as I had been sitting down for a few minutes, which my doctor told me was normal (too much activity can bring them on, and therefore, ceasing the activity can stop them completely). Fortunately, the next day we pretty much stayed in the same room all day, so the only activity I had were my frequent trips to the restroom. I know people understand that pregnant women need to run to the potty quite a bit, but I'm sorry, it's still embarrassing to have people observe how many times you've exited the room in an hour's time!!! All-in-all, it was a great business trip, especially because I finally got to put so many faces to the names I see in my inbox every day (yeah, I'm particularly talking about you, Laura!). Thursday afternoon I dropped a couple of coworkers off at the new Indy airport (so stunning, so chic! Good job, Indianapolis!) and made my way to Greenwood, aka, "home." I got to see my parents, sister Sarah, and my nieces and nephews -- it had been a couple months since our last visit, and everyone was pretty astonished at the size of my belly. I joked that I had a soccer ball up my shirt but my 2-year-old nephew Elijah didn't get it and kept wanting up my shirt to retrieve that soccer ball! So stinkin' cute. Then I showed him my skin and told him it was a baby, and he patted my belly and said "baby" but seemed pretty disappointed that it was a baby and not a soccer ball. Oh the priorities of a 2-year-old boy. :) That night and Friday were spent in various activities with my family -- my mom took me baby-gear shopping on Friday afternoon, then Sarah and Garrett took me out to dinner and to see the new Star Trek movie on Friday night. I had the greatest time, but kept wanting my hubby to be with me!!! Saturday morning I met Ellen for our tradition of Starbucks + manis/pedis, and I had the greatest time there, too. The Asian folks who run the place know us (that tells you how often El and I frequent the joint!) and hugged me upon seeing the prodigal return for a visit from Tennessee! Then it was home to take a quick shower, receive some Mother's Day tulips at the door from my Marty (oh yes, he is absolutely the perfect husband), and then I was off to my baby shower!

Baby shower:

The mama with that soccer ball up her dress! (Me and Will at exactly 31 weeks.)

The beautiful cake with baby booties (I think one of my little nieces went in for a finger sample at the front...).

The bountiful spread: my mom's famous chicken salad on croissants and bakery buns, spinach dip with Hawaiian bread, veggies and dip, cheeseball with crackers and chips, garden salad, fruit salad, pasta salad, and pineapple punch!

The bountiful goodies...I was honestly overwhelmed with the love and generosity shown to me, Marty, and our little son. The gift bags covered several feet in diameter on my sister's kitchen floor, and it just left me gaping with awe and gratitude.

Some of my guests -- so much love in the room. And the impromptu entertainment was provided by my nieces Ada and Abby, who performed a princess dance in their little pink dresses and toy wands. (Once again, I pray to the Father to give me a little girl, too!)

Me and Ellen, who did all the note-taking for me (it was a serious job!).

Opening gifts...

I love the little man-robes!

Exhausted but so happy to have finally experienced this lovely rite of passage that I had looked forward to -- quite literally -- all my life.

Thank you so much to everyone who attended and/or sent a gift. Marty was stunned to see all the bags piled up in our living room, and we are just beyond grateful for all the love you've shown to us. Thank you for outfitting our little boy and his nursery in such style! And for giving me a dream come true (a very special thank-you to my sisters for this). If it had been up to me, I would have experienced all this many years ago, but God's timing is perfect, and I am walking proof of that. Thank you God for all the blessings, given in the best way and at the right time!

Birthing class: (isn't this post over yet??? you are wondering...) So Marty and I went to our second birthing class just a couple nights ago, and it was even more sobering than the first one. Now, our teacher (a labor/delivery nurse for over 20 years), Cindy, is a lovely woman, but she tells it like it is. She doesn't avoid nonsociable words and she really doesn't avoid any topics, no matter how sensitive or private they feel. We are learning quite a bit, and while some of it is fascinating and exciting, other parts are downright scary. I might need a blood transfusion after birth? Eh? I might have to push for 3 hours only to be given a C-section? Double-eh? THAT's what 10 centimeters looks like? Oh glory be! Cindy is not only giving us a birthing education, she's also teaching us breathing techniques (I swear I started to fall asleep during the exercise on Monday -- envisioning a beach while breathing slowly) and explaining all the options we have for labor and delivery. Surprisingly (to me), she has also recommended writing a birth plan. I have heard that presenting a birth plan can be something of an affront to the nursing staff caring for you, and I've no desire to set those important people at odds with me from the moment of "go." However, Cindy has stipulated that we not follow any Internet templates, nor write something 20 pages long. She says to just keep it simple and only include what you feel strongly about. Easy enough, I think: we know that we'd rather have the doctor cut the cord, that Marty and I want to be by ourselves (no guests) during the actual birth, that we want Will kept with us for an hour or so after birth so I can nurse him and we can bond as a family, etc., etc. I also know that I want an epidural if and when I get to that point (I'd like to see how far I can go but I'm not stubbornly holding out for an "au naturel" birth because I'm intimately familiar with my pain threshold). There are probably about 20-25 stipulations we would like to see enforced, but they will certainly fit on 1 piece of paper and (hopefully) wouldn't overwhelm my nurse(s), nor make them feel like they're limited/hampered in doing their job(s).

Body language: Finally, this past week has been something of a change for me in pregnancy symptoms. Maybe it's exacerbated by all the traveling and busy-ness and stress, but I've begun to experience swelling in my hands, feet, and ankles. Every morning I wake up with numb, tingly hands, and it usually takes a couple hours for me to be able to move my wedding ring on my finger. Socks leave angry red impressions on my ankles, and I've taken to only wearing flip-flops (unless it's raining, which really frustrates me!). In addition, I feel this weird pressurized feeling on my chest (especially there), down my arms, and down my thighs. It so freaked me out the other night that I paged my doctor about it (I have to defend myself here; I've made it to nearly 32 weeks without ever having paged the doctor, so I think that's pretty good!). Dr. Pickler reassured me that at this stage of pregnancy, my diaphragm has moved up and there is extra pressure on my chest cavity, and even though it doesn't feel like I'm getting enough oxygen, as long as I can carry on a conversation, that indicates I'm getting plenty of air. She said the pressure I feel in and on my limbs is also perfectly normal. Even though it didn't make me feel much better (I wasn't given any advice on how to alleviate any of the above!), at least I knew I wasn't starting down the road to Scaryville things like toxemia (I had this thought in my head for some reason). It's pretty daunting to think I have 8 weeks to go, and how much worse these things will feel, and how much bigger I'll get(!), but then again, it's only another 8 weeks and then we'll experience the long-awaited arrival of our little man. I can't wait!!!

Whew! End of post, thank goodness. Thanks to my sister Katie for the shower pictures!

Pix and tales from our Easter weekend

So I know my sister is ready to shoot me if I don't put up some belly shots soon, so even though the latest pix of me aren't my greatest, one has to appease one's sister. Here are a couple shots from the doctor's office at our 26-week visit (read more about that here):

Notice the bandage? I honestly don't know why they do blood draws at EVERY visit. And is it just me or am I looking swollen?

Our appointment was on Tuesday the 7th and by Thursday the 9th, we were on the road to an Easter weekend in Mississippi. We decided to stay in Memphis the evening of the 9th, and Marty was thrilled to take me out to his favorite BBQ joint, the famous "Rendezvous." Marty almost had tears in his eyes eating his ribs, but I was actually disappointed in mine. I think I'm just a Yankee, tried and true. Memphis BBQ is seasoned with dry-rub and smoked, resulting in an almost tough texture, whereas BBQ where I'm from means it's dripping with sauce and falling off the bone!

Anyway, the next morning we set off for Greenville, Mississippi, where Marty hails from. When we pulled into the driveway, my sis-in-law Melissa was...what else?...barbequeing!!! Her boyfriend, Keith, had parked his enormous smoker/grill in the driveway and I think they had at least 3-4 animals cooking in there. It smelled amazing and after lots of hugs and belly rubs from the sisters and nieces and nephews, we feasted. I called it "Meat-a-palooza." Then we went to a Good Friday service at the church that Marty and his siblings grew up in, and where Marty's dad was the officiating vicar before his passing last May. The new pastor gave a meaningful and somber message, and we refrained from speaking in the sanctuary. My aunt-in-law Linda sang the "Via Dolo Rosa" and it was very moving. Easter is my favorite holiday and it's so much better when you get the opportunity to observe the entire Passion week.

The next morning started with a big box of Shipley's donuts (quite famous in Greenville) and I can't even describe how good these donuts are...but eat your heart out, Krispy Kreme! Like Melissa says, "You can't eat just 3." :) We sat around the table and ate and drank coffee and just visited. Then we all left to go visit with Aunt Linda for awhile, and when I walked in her house, I noticed about a half-ton of wrapped presents on her fireplace hearth but looked right past it without really seeing it. Melissa said from behind me, with a giggle in her voice, "It's a baby shower!" My response was, quite literally, "Who's having a baby?" I laugh now, but seriously, I didn't say that because I'm dumb or slow (although I'm certainly dumber and slower these days), but honestly, it's because my pregnancy is still very surreal to me at times and I find myself shocked in some moments that I actually get to have this experience!

So after the initial shock wore off, Marty's lovely sisters and aunt got us placed near the gifts and I started opening. Here are a few shots!

This little sleeper says "Daddy's Champ" on it. If you don't know, "Champion" is our son's middle name and his Daddy has taken to calling him "Champ." Marty held the sleeper as if our little guy were already filling it out, and it was such a sweet moment.

We got this set of funny bibs...this one says "Being good is boring!

Finally, this might be my favorite picture. I don't know that Marty has a really strong idea of what a baby activity gym is, but he's so very much enjoying the process of becoming a Daddy. The joy on his face blesses my soul!

In all my life, I've never had a surprise anything -- party, shower, what-have-you. And I was wonderfully surprised, and both Marty and I were just overwhelmed by the generousity of our family. (I'm also overwhelmed by the fact that I can never seem to get any pictures of anybody!!!) Thank you again and again and again, Melissa and Sarah and Linda (and Keith and Nick and Mike and all the kiddos...). We love you guys sooooooo much!

We closed out the weekend with a wonderful Easter breakfast at church, an Easter egg hunt for the kids, and then a beautiful service. It was so hard to leave after all the fun we'd had, but Marty wanted to pace ourselves (in other words, pace ME) on the trip home, so we left for Nashville, where Marty had planned a little evening/day excursion for us at the Opryland Hotel! (If you haven't spent much time in Tennessee, you should know that the Opryland Hotel is like a cruise ship without the water -- it's a massive building with several hotels, restaurants, shopping, entertainment, etc.) We arrived in the evening and got dressed up to go out for a fancy-schmancy meal. Here's me, dolled-up and 27 weeks pregnant:

We knew the prices would be extravagant, but we really wanted to live it up, so we tried our best to ignore the ridiculous numbers attached to the menu items. However, we couldn't ignore that the food was really only just okay, and then it was only too easy to start thinking how we could have spent that money in other ways. Talk about disappointing! When we got back to our room, I started having a really sore throat and wanted to call it a night...which became a very LONG night, as I was up coughing and sneezing and blowing my nose, and basically just miserable because I couldn't breathe, swallow, or rest. In the morning, we ordered a fabulous breakfast tray and that I can say was really pretty good (I had cinnamon waffles with cherries in Grand Marnier syrup with whipped cream...uh, HELLO yummy!). I also got a few good shots out our atrium-facing balcony:

The hotel "exterior" in the Cascades section is done in the New Orleans French style, which of course I loved!

We tried to do some shopping in the hotel, but the bookstore I wanted to visit was mysteriously closed, so we decided our Opryland Hotel stay was a bit cursed. Either that, or we were exhausted from all the traveling and activity (I think it was a bit of both). So we headed home early, and I'm so glad we did, because by the time we got home I was in the throes of one of the worst colds I've ever had! However, small disappointments and one nasty cold notwithstanding, we had a wonderful Easter weekend. Now we're thinking about making the pilgrimage home to Missisisippi every Easter!

under the weather

I have lots of tales and pictures to share from the last week and our trip to Mississippi, but those will have to wait for a couple days.

I am currently sneezing and sniffling and going through Kleenex like crazy. It hurts to talk, swallow, even breathe. My eyes are red and watery from fever and sinus pressure. The worst part is that my OB/GYN's office won't just call me in a prescription. Nooooo -- make the sick pregnant girl get out of her jammies just to come into the office, say "ahh," and be told what she already knows to be true: it's a raging sinus infection and I need an antibiotic. I'm 32 years old and I've had at least a dozen sinus infections in my time; seriously, this is not rocket science, nor anything requiring a doctor's time and my energy (what little I have) to diagnose. Can you tell I'm a little bit bitter? (Especially since I called yesterday and they ignored me until 5 pm last night, and are only just squeezing me in today! Apparently you have to be in labor to get any attention from an OB/GYN's office.)

In the meantime, I'm trying to work and meet a deadline, all the while I'm longing for my pillow and comforter and the bliss of sleep. And Panera's baked potato soup. Hopefully I'll be in a better state and better spirits soon!

Viability! and THE EVIL STORAGE ROOM

I was just about to say that these two title items don't have a thing in common, but upon further reflection, yes they do. They are huge projects in my life (albeit one quite major and one quite minor, in the scheme of things) that are not finished, and in some aspects, feel as though they've just begun.

Today is 24 weeks into my pregnancy, and my little boy is officially "viable." I sort of hate the term, but in doctor-speak, it means my son would receive life-saving medical treatment should he make his way into the world right now...so, I'll gladly use the term! However, just because my William is viable doesn't mean he'd do well outside of my womb; in fact, though "save-able," he'd be at his most vulnerable. And so, it feels in some ways as though my pregnancy has really just begun. We've reached a crucial stage, but the next 4 weeks alone would make a 50% difference in his survivability. Talk about pressure...I know that I know too much about this stuff. But, you get pregnant, you read things! It's so easy for me to want to propel us somehow into the future and skip a couple months, but I know God gives parents 9 months to prepare for their young'uns, and I should take that time without questioning the wisdom of it. Whoever said it was right on: waiting really is the hardest part.

As for the other project, the dreaded EVIL STORAGE ROOM, Marty and I finally made some headway into the clearing and purging and organizing of it today. I said a few weeks ago that we were going to get started, but we ended up devoting that day toward the cleaning and purging and organizing of our office, which was far more necessary and urgent of a task. So even though I'm glad we tabled the EVIL STORAGE ROOM for another day (today as it turned out), I can hardly believe that we've only just started this hateful chore. I would just like to say that when two people come together to form a home, and both of those people have baggage from past marriages (especially when each of us previously owned houses), and both of those people have lived in 4 different places in the past 2 years (respectively!), there's a lot of just plain old stuff hanging around! And even though it feels good to sort and throw away and give away and see that your "keep" pile is teeny-tiny, it's such an exhausting chore and I know we have a few weekends of such choring ahead of us yet, and that's daunting, to say the least.

Are you feeling overwhelmed with me yet? The funny thing is, my attitude is not one of complaint. I'm beyond incredibly thankful that I have a life with my husband, that I've been rescued from bad things and bad times, and that we have such a beautiful future, especially with the coming of our son. I truly have everything I've ever wanted in life, yet there's always this difficulty with achieving contentment, isn't there? "Yes, God, I have a wonderful husband and a baby on the way, but could You just get him here now and organize my stuff for me while You're at it?" I think this is the real challenge in life, especially the peaceful life that I so want to live: to just be thankful for our blessings in whatever form they're currently taking. To not rush through life, and just enjoy the gentle unfolding of each gift!

Charleston pictures I, or why pregnant women can't defy gravity

Christa: What a cool set of columns, a perfect place to take pictures! Now, how can we get Becky up here?

*shimmying and some unladylike grunting occurs*

Becky: Oh my stars, this will never happen. I can't vault my body in any upwardly direction!

Becky: Oh well, I'll just have to pose where I'm standing. Do you think they'll notice my double-chin, Christa?