Nursing Wraps and Stillettos

[ourcoffeebean-blog]

Welcome To The World: Kennedy Isabella

Remising upon the beloved perspectives of motherhood, time dwindled softly within the distance; suspend. Each second crept; each clock devoured my being. Scheduled to have a medical induction due to persistent and worsening health troubles that would no longer allow me to carry my precious coffee bean the world around me evolved around seven meager days. As a new mother I was surprised as to how arduous my final week was progressing in comparison to a fleeting initial trimester; the second, of course, a bit slower. My terminal illness had taken a toll in the month of January. Coming close to losing my life and my child at the beginning of the month I was ordered to mandated bedrest until delivery or induction; flat bedrest. Discovering a positive escape the Internet provided an educational allowance, one that this first-time mother needed; despite completing a variety of classes relating to maternal engineering. I was overjoyed to have millions of articles at my fingertips. Relishing in the value of provisional education I found myself taking notes on topics I had never considered; some topics controversial, most mundane. My husband jokingly laughed as he kept asking “how my thesis was coming”, his eyes reflected his own excitement. Following the same passage I kept open conversations on Twitter so to expand my assistance, appreciating the advice of those with a stout grip of motherhood. I was addicted to acquiring education under each overturned rock. On January 30, 2011 I awoke to a thickened cervical discharge, an indication of forthcoming birth, looking into my notes and “fact binder” provided by my medical physician I felt as if my body was a mere let down to reality. Cervical discharge I read is the prefix of ‘some’ childbirth; however, the event could begin a week following and in some women two or more. Some women even lost this plug, twice. I was excessively saddened and frustrated as this was my first “labor-like” indication my body reflected. Up until this point  I had an on again off again marital affair with Sir Braxton Hicks my second and early third trimester and a not so friendly fellowship with Round Ligament Pain my late first and early second. Such discharge was a huge deal, happiness; however not consistent with each trip into the ladies room. . Likewise, I never even visually saw a tinge of blood; perhaps some pink, never red, mostly clear. My little coffee bean had *not* moved, I only felt her during the instructed “kick counts”; it felt so soft, she was barely there. This was completely *abnormal* as my little girl was clearly an inspiring acrobat who seemed to never ceased moving. She has a obsessive relationship with my bladder for months on end, day and night and had just begin to develop a relationship of substance with my ribs, lungs, and diaphragm. At 7pm I was engaging in conversation on Twitter; with instant messages coming in to inquire about my health from my sister, friends around the world, and others.  My husband and mother were both calling to check my status, as he phoned her to explain; I kept thinking he must have called others too. My husband was a proud man.  On a three way phone conversation I got them up to speed not missing the chance at ascertaining assistance when I needed it more than ever. The tightening of my belly only worsened and within twenty minutes was followed by the same frustrating period-like pain. I highly feared being the last to know about my own labor. This was my biggest laboring fear; every woman has at least one. Something happened that I don’t understand, I was not afraid; restrained, subtle, and calm. I knew what I had to do next, my passage was paved in my mind; tackle step one and move to two – one down the line. I phoned Charlie, who was about three miles at the end of our road working and told him he was going to be a father; he must have dropped the phone. I nearly didn’t have time to turn around until he was coming in the door. It was he that needed the calming I attribute to maternal insist. He phoned the doctor as I used technology to record each contraction, the duration, and the time between; Bump.com. I had failed to research contraction counters, Twitter also made a great resource to detail track too. My doctor informed Charlie he would be on stand-by and that his requirement was five-minutes between each active contraction with a minute or more of intensity. This didn’t please him, it didn’t please me; I attempted not to get upset but inside I cursed under my breath quite seriously. I stayed on Twitter as it was planned to engage in birthing on Twitter, #TwitterBirth. After the fifth contraction it felt as if someone flipped my switch, I was in true back labor; no longer did the basic period cramps of the beginning remain but misery surrounded. I begin to bleed which was colored an electrifying bright red. I tried to eat for fuel but nearly blacked out as my blood monitor cuff denoted my pressure was dangerous high during this journey. It was at this time the doctor gave orders to immediately come to the birthing unit. It took not even two minutes and longer to get from the garage into the hospital and up to labor and delivery at the fourth floor birthing unit. The blood pressure cuff I was using was inaccurate my pressure was actually low; my family was getting to the unit at this discovery. They could have easily sent me home but the doctor argued to keep me due to my high risk pregnancy, terminal illness, and chronic misery. I was sickened to hear administration claim the desire for money and fear of not being properly paid. A Pitocin drip was started at a low flow as another contraction, now 14 minutes apart and up to a minute, occurred normally without the drug. I was told to walk around the unit to stimulate labor and speed things along we Charlie and I took in the entire unit, four times; we made a little pit stop. Maybe I shouldn’t admit this through my birth story but it is a part that has consequences to the next event. We discovered a private area where we attempted to induce, yes, Charlie and I protected ourselves (due to my dilatation to 3) and had sex. Sex is a induction method. We were like rapid animals, even if just quick. I felt the need to go urinate as we headed back to my room, Charlie kept voicing not to wobble; I’m pregnant of course I wobble – also in labor and had just had increasable sex. I came out of the stall and immediately my water broke; a trickle turned into a ravishing rapids but safely not a sudden gush. I knew I had not peed myself, or so I thought. He ran to the nursing station where the doctor was and informed of the updated information. Leaving me due to his excitement but returned quick to help me to my room; where I told my family. Anne came in the room and set on the bed where she informed us that she was upping the drop of Pitocin, which may make my arm very cold, she also explained my contactions were going to start coming quicker since my fluid broke and they were jump starting with Pitocin; in essence she said things wouldn’t progress how they were. I just hoped the back laboring ceased. The birthing tub was filled and ready and I wanted to try the tub since I denied pain management for the contractions. The nurses helped me take off the gown and step in, nude. The water helped a great deal as I had read and I was glad to have got the option as only one tub existed and normally it would have to be booked with the assistance of a doula. Sadly, we could not afford a doula. The doctor had came in to explain my contractions would need to be very strong to naturally allow my body in a push free delivery to deliver the baby; since I was against the suction and forceps. He was paged out just as the misery of the first upped Pitocin contraction lead me to scream; Charlie attempted to support I pulled away. I screamed to where the water echoed. Anne, the nurse, stayed with me and walked me though giving me a epidural option; she said they would get much more intense. Back to back I had another contraction and Anne assured me the Pitocin was working, and a third much like the prior two.  The doctor returned and suggested I look into the epidural option or I could have Demerol. I maintained my desire to birth naturally without drugs and felt the birth plan was being taken very seriously; I had to be checked vaginally. This was the third vaginal check due to my option to minimize the violation. The doctor asked me to move to the bed unless I wanted a water birth where the water would have to be cleaned; water birthing wasn’t an option and I took Charlies help to the bed, both nieces (wide eyed and questioning their millionth question) joined on either side. He asked as to how much I thought I could push without the rectum damaging itself and I didn’t know. I asked if I could try to have a normal birth and he said he wanted to give such birth to me; I was crying as I felt abnormal in a great deal of ways. I pushed twice and the little princess was into this world, 1:11am 1/31/11. She came out without a tear or whine. They said she had swallowed a merconium (sp) and had to be suctioned (she had a bowel movement in the birth canal and swallowed some of her poop). After she sounded as if she was a newborn kitten, no louder; I waited what seemed like forever to have her put into my arms because not only did they clean her of goo but had to clean her of poo. Both Apgars were scored at a 10, a perfect A+ student! She looked at me with huge eyes and I puddled in tears; fearful I would harm her by not holding her right my mother helped me to hold her my first time. My baby 7 pounds 7.5 inches and 18 inches in length was the gift hand delivered from the Lord without a single ailment or issue. Birth was not even a memory when she was in my arms, while I realize it hurt I cannot tell you how birth felt. It’s a true glory. We were kept until 6:30am and released. She is breast feeding like a champ and latching on like a suctioned pro.  Our Kennedy Isabella.

[ourcoffeebean-blog]

Early Induction Set for February 4, 2011

Little bean I feel I have let you down, my sweet little one. My body is shutting down and my health is decreasing; my immune system is destroyed and no longer producing what I need to survive myself. An early induction has been scheduled for February 4, the appointment made and bed reserved. Through a battery of tests at the hospital during my eight day extended stay it was discovered not only was I two weeks advanced in measurement the baby is also two weeks advanced in gestational growth; thus the March 4, 2011 due date is wrong and should be altered by two weeks. While my body is shutting down and health declining my physician claims the little girl is perfect. Today she was estimated to be 6.5 pounds; I can feel she is heavy; my birth bets are 8 pounds pushing 9; perhaps even pushing 10 pounds. Again, she is crammed iin the womb and putting a great amount of pressure on my vaginal area. I am also dialed by 2 centimeters but only 10% effaced. I am deeply scared of the term induction but research revels it isn’t as bad as it sounds, regardless an early induction will save my daughter; it’s a must. I will be a full thirty-six weeks (full term). I cannot help but feel as the mother who was created to carry children I let my baby down because I can’t do so. I will fight to labor normally, it’s all I have left; giving her a normal way into the world from the womb.

[ourcoffeebean-blog]

I Nearly Lost My Little Girl

Amidst the occurring of normalized mundane daily tasks I kept feeling a frustrating dull pain above my vagina, thinking nothing of this pain that plagued like a light switching on I went on with my business. Setting down to work the odd pain intensified, feeling no different from the round ligament pain in the second trimester; at its peak the pain was nothing concerning. Two hours passed with the reveal of a menstrual cramping feeling on either side above my ovaries; I had experienced Braxton Hicks contractions but this feeling seemed much different. Each time the pain would return it lasted much longer than a few Braxton seconds. Within a half-hour I knew something wasn’t right, I attempted not to panic but couldn’t keep myself calm; it was much too early to deliver the baby, too early to be in labor. Charlie drove to the hospital in a time so insane I thought it was impossible, a twenty minute journey in just six; much faster than if I would have called 911. He was wearing his fear on his face as was I. The pain grew much more intense and a pattern had evolved. At 33-weeks I could not be seen by the emergency department and would have to trek around the hall way and up to the fourth floor; to the birthing, labor, and delivery floor. Just the thought so early initialized cold chills but I was immediately given a bed and learned my body was in labor; I was losing my baby the baby girl I had always desired – the only positive, my water hadn’t broke. I had phoned my doctor who was available at the time I needed him most; his office just three buildings from the hospital. I cried, begged, pleaded, prayed a jumbled bag of emotions all pointing to one statement “please don’t let me lose her, I love her.” I couldn’t stop looking at Charlie, wanting him to do something; inside I knew he couldn’t. It took two hours and a variety of medications given to me by a intravenous line to stop the very forceful contractions. Finally, the pains settled and stopped with a combination of two powerful drugs given to stop my premature labor; each second I thank Jesus Christ that my water never broke giving little bean the chance needed to survive. I was directly admitted and ordered to lay flat on my back with mandated bed rest; a catheter was inserted as I couldn’t get up. I had massive restrictions surrounding my admission except food. No stranger to hospitals I thought it was rather odd to see that I could eat everything I wanted and more. My non-restricted consumption was due to the fact I needed to gain weight for the baby. I was asked directly as to “pregnancy anorexia” and my mind exploded, was I that much underweight? Did I appear to have a eating disorder at thirty-three weeks? My doctor and I spoke of my chronic illness, the reason as to why I was so underweight at this time. The next day, due in part to my illness the doctor felt it was best to be in the care of my pregnancy specialist in Lexington; two hours away. Charlie couldn’t drive me to the University of Lexington Medical Center and due to the slick roads the best option was transport by helicopter. The hospital switch took just under an hour. I was explained that such move was due to the premature labor but much more importantly the health of the one in my womb. The experience was absolute hell and in a week I checked myself out against medical advice; perhaps not the best for a new mother but I felt I could do everything at home and without a catheter. I came home eight days from my premaster labor (January 7th) with ten pages of instructions that I was told I must follow. I nearly lost my child but I am currently doing well, still on altered bed rest. It is possible I may have a early induction which I have reservations about. My body is shutting down and I can no longer carry a baby. I must report to the doctor at 8am tomorrow, so afraid. Did I make the right choice?

[ourcoffeebean-blog]

The Dreadful Amniocentesis Results

Eager to attain a restful nights of sleep and reduce the panic from within I got into bed early, as I knew I would be required to awake much earlier so to get to my appointment on time. The attempt, while in good faith, failed miserably. I lay on my pillow and sought comfort, nonetheless I found it quite arduous to pull the nightmarish horror stories of the procedure I was to have in mere hours from my mind — even then I knew I couldn’t disregard the risks. As each minute passed, much to my demise, I found myself treading deeper; drenched in fear of the possibilities, risks, concerns, and horrendous pessimistic ‘what-ifs’. Internally I knew that somehow I had to diffuse the dangerous deliberations so to salvage as much rest as I could before the sounding of the alarm clock. With each hour more solemn than the previous, I finally drifted to sleep sometime after midnight; despite getting into bed much before.

As I took the first step into my physicians office, my mind was a jumped ball of emotions; the pessimist from within was controlling, I knew at any time I could opt out of the test and cite the risk facts as justification. I was very scared, in fact I was unsure the proper decision for the life within my womb. As the only patient in the office, at an hour so early, the nurses recognized the fear my facial expressions conveyed; before the chance to have a seat I was called back, the nurse whispered “don’t be scared” as she took my hand. Inside the room I unloaded my mounting fears, tearfully, both hands on my growing bump feeling a very active bean. Typically, each morning my little acrobat does his warming up for the day ahead; the feelings of life moving within the womb I cannot begin to describe or for that matter get used to.

Much to my surprise the nurse’s compassionate tone begin to ease my mind and before I knew it my appointment was beginning without much more thought. Seemingly like clockwork at the time I would have been waking up; my little one started to wiggle, twinge, and kick softly. The nurse had spoken to me for nearly an hour as we waited the obstetrician’s arrival. It was at that moment my angel provided me with the reassurance I needed to discern the choice I was making was the best choice for the health of my bean. The health care providers took their place in my room after the initial requirements had been taken, I voiced several time to the physician that the baby was quite active. My doctor laughed with me about my little acrobat, before going over each detail of the amniocentesis ahead. I felt comfortable knowing that each second of the test would have the baby’s placement monitored by a device much like an ultrasound so the exact placement would be known.

Oddly, the test wasn’t nearly what I expected; in fact it wasn’t bad at all. My little one stopped moving putting my mind at more ease; I could view the baby on the monitor as well and clearly see the extraction of fluid – I’m the type that desires to watch every second. While it stung the test was over in less than a minute; I hardly felt anything and most importantly baby bean didn’t even know we were there. Once completed I was required to lay flat and wear a Doppler so the heart rate could be monitored, reminding me once again of the risks of the test. The doctor came in before I left to share results of lung maturity; other results would be back at my next appointment. It was no real shock to me at my gestational age to know that my baby’s lungs at this time are still underdeveloped, yet normal for gestation. The doctor thinks it is best to begin steroid injections while lung development is occurring at this peak of rapid development.

I’ll have six injections prior to 34-weeks; I believe four of one medication and two of another; both steroids. The first injection will be gave to me in a few days, giving me time to research; with my illness I am no stranger to steroids. The baby and I both are measuring about one-week ahead of the scale used in comparison to the due date of March 4, 2011, this doesn’t always mean I’m a week ahead of what they had first thought and probably doesn’t. Little bean weighs nearly four-pounds; my baby is almost at the same weight I was when I was born. Early induction, however, is still necessary in relation to other aspects where my chronic illness is plaguing my own health. However, I am determined to reach full gestation and go into labor naturally.

[ourcoffeebean-blog]

Gearing Up For Answers by Amniocentesis

Time has passed so quickly, I can hardly believe that tomorrow I will be headed into the specialist’s office for my thirty-week prenatal examination. I’m very nervous about this appointment due to the extent of testing; I’m also very excited as I will be in a position to ascertain answers to the many questions that I’ve found looming now for weeks. Essentially I’ll be able to obtain an answer to a salient question that all expectant mothers hold deep within their soul, the significant inquiry as to the health of the precious life within my womb.

Due to severe health conditions related to an illness labeled as terminal, this pregnancy has been anything but typical; initially beginning with the amount of appointments I have been required to have stretched between two professionals. Secondly, the amount of testing has provided proof also that the characteristics of a normal pregnancy are just not there. Nonetheless, tomorrow’s visit is of substantial importance and it begins with an amniocentesis that will determine the development of the baby’s lungs – as well as other development that to be taken into great consideration.

I should have a definite answer via professional determination if my illness requires an early induction and if so I will learn the gestational age best to do this. The amniocentesis itself is a very frightening concept, especially when attempting to balance the risks with potential benefits; the test in itself is chancy, especially with a precarious little one full of movement. I’ve been wrestling with the idea of an induction and the phase “early induction” is just something that I must admit terrifies me; as a mother I want what is best for my little bean.  I am determined to get to forty-weeks and perhaps beyond so to go into labor naturally. I have my mind set around the natural perspective and a birth plan fitting.

Both doctors have determined that due to my health and the high risk situation the chance of progressing to forty-weeks is an impossibly, I was told instead to consider advancing to thirty-eight weeks which by definition is “full-term”. However, I am writing this due to the fact the longer I go the more risk I incur for both the baby and myself. Such risks are fatal, no more is this about my water breaking but baby bean’s development. Many more questions will be answered. Up until this point my little womb acrobat has been great and I could not pray for a better feeling than that of feeling my baby so active – it’s my reassurance of knowing all is okay. I just hope everything is okay.

[ourcoffeebean-blog]

Together as One: The Man I Love

Scanning through the memorizing and memorial entries of this pregnancy journal –a digitalized journey through high risk pregnancy- it’s deeply evident that I’ve failed to mention an imperative unit of this pregnancy –- my husband, the love of my life. Presently, twenty-nine weeks gestation Charlie has yet to verbalize his viewpoint in relation to the hormonal screwball I’ve become. Without a classy invitation my body has been invaded by a mangled grove of rapidly altering hormones, worsening over the past month. His only reaction –- a devilish smirk, that I have yet to psychoanalyze and if I did I probably couldn’t make heads or tails. His look, this little smirk, it’s nearly irresistible; much like the full fledged features of the edge-riding biker I’ve gave eight-years of my life – without regret. His wide eyed skeptical gaze shows his mounting confusing but this is not his first rodeo, having four children. He seems to be all knowing of the hormonal changes, depression, and anger; providing support when I feel as if my body is a host for chaos. My husband, the proud papa, forgoes mentioning negatives, no matter how out of the ordinary; with four prior (all in their 30s) pregnancy still puzzles his mind regardless how strong and complex. Built typical of a biker instead his tough guy shell is nothing short of a wonderful and loving teddy bear – from total body massages to foot rubs he’s there each step of the way. Claiming he missed so much with his other four due in part to marital issues; a reference to the forty weeks of pregnancy – the whole experience. Growing quite accustomed to his seductive smirk in addition he’ll shoot me a look of “what the…”; his skeptical stare; a reaction that is beginning to haunt; Quite simply because I have no idea what thought process is at the time. Regardless, I couldn’t have prayed for a better father to my little one. This wild, wacko, uninhibited pregnancy is starting to wear thin due to the hormones; raging hormones and vile depression. Last night, in example, in the midst of our bedroom bliss romantic cuddling ensued. While Charlie voiced his happiness and I snuggled against his tattooed muscular chest in seconds I darted up quicker than a jack-in-the-box on LSD – a kick to the bladder. Immediately, Charlie had this damn new look of confused skepticism and started to laugh; grinning ear to ear as he reached up to give me a kiss – one of reassurance, that this pregnancy wouldn’t last a lifetime. I laid back down beside a man so sexy and again another kick directly to the bladder and a third; a little acrobat/footballer. It was that moment, sweaty and heated, I had to know what he thought; I asked. “It’s magical, I never knew happiness until I found you; I never knew how happy I could be until we together created this precious life.” I nearly cried, this is what he thought. “I’ll protect her until the day I die” he went on to say, a comment I knew straight away was the truth of the man about to be a father again – thirty years since his last diaper change. “You look so beautiful, pregnant”. Don’t get no ideas I laughed. His hands rubbing my bump feeling stout kicks, when the puzzled look one again formed with focus; “what’s that” he inquired. She has hiccups, honey; it happens every day and always at 7. He smiled and at this time I realized he could have kept his gentle hands there, on my baby bump, for hours. Reaching to touch breasts altered by motherhood with a soft stroke his kisses became much more powerful; his answers delighted me and the power of pregnancy fascinated him. We made love for hours on the premise of the creation of life. This man had just revealed a side I never knew existed giving me butterflies, realizing that I had made the 100% right choice to say yes. For a moment the homones disappeared an allowance to enjoy being pregnant and discovering its glorified value. Moments so incredible, held and protected. I cannot imagine what it must be like to observe a wife ravenously disturbing at times, her body taken over by prenatal depression; diagnosed by the doctor. Nor can he image the butterflies of love I still have eight years later from our first kiss on my birthday January 3rd – at the tender age of twenty. Sometimes I question how the endurance of this man allows him to love when I am nothing short of a bitch. Listening morning, noon, afternoon, and night to hormonal changes and the thought that resides deep telling me I’m not good enough -– self-destruction almost. Not blind to the mess he does what he can. Holding me until the hurt is gone emotionally the glue when I break; sweeping my hair back each time I vomit in this third trimester. Never letting me fall. Through this journal entry I realized I’m never going to be alone; the man I need is right here at home. How could he love me, how could I love him; how could our love be so pure? Charlie, he stops me from falling apart; in a way I cannot put into mere words. It is he that allows me to put this pregnancy into words, bringing the beauty our each second. Minimizing the negative, desiring to be the best in his leather wearing chaps; a father he wasn’t allowed to be thirty years ago.

[ourcoffeebean-blog]

Second Trimester: Growing Pains

Straightforwardly, my first trimester passed with such ease. So much in fact I knew the absent feelings of not feeling pregnant were too pleasant to be long-term, especially with my damaged luck. To be absolutely honest, I loathed the normality I had within the first twelve weeks; with a much stronger feeling I desired to have merely some of the feelings heard about everywhere in reference to pregnancy. I departed on the journey into motherhood at about fifteen weeks. Initially, my journey began with minuscule small aches and pains nonetheless no matter how small, I reported directly to Charlie who suddenly became the proudest on the block. As things would turn out, there was nothing wrong after all.

This week (16) I began to experience what I would describe as intense and at times very sharp pains in abdominal region. These pains, most times achy, were beginning to grow more intensified and started to scare Charlie and I due to miscarriages felt before. I was not bleeding nor cramping and the pains seemed to be oddly only to my right side. At times I had a few so strong I would squelch in pain but frankly this was much more aggravating and annoying than anything. I chalked this feeling up to my body allowing me the knowledge of pregnancy and three-days after my local doctor concluded that in many ways I was correct. My belly seemed to be taking off  in a growth spurt as well.

Round Ligament Pains was what had plagued me this sixteenth week. Wow, something I had never heard of before. Simply put, these pains were only growing pains from my expanding uterus and would cease by themselves. I was told, rest; if that concept was only in my vocabulary. Today’s appointment went exceptionally well. The local doctor who delivered me nearly twenty-eight years prior believes the baby is female due to a rapid heart rate but his educated guess would have to wait until full photo confirmation at 24-weeks. In addition to the pains mentioned I kept noticing that it seems all I do is pee! The baby is positioned as lying (or putting pressure) on my bladder, providing the answer to why I am urinating so much. I really am peeing so much!

[ourcoffeebean-blog]

The Dark Truth: Empty Inside

I have cherished the reality, my little pea, glorified that the Lord Christ has given to me a reason to shine; to smile, to live yet another day. Absent, nonetheless, fulfilled at the same moment in time. Writing this entry I must be honest that today was a day I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy. Perhaps the onset of hormones, the emotional side of things took control of fibers within my being and spit me out. Devouring sanity. I wept in such a way I never thought possible with a new life here to be in March – you little one. Factually, at this tragic milestone I am experiencing a exceeding amount of grief as I have never been able to carry a child past this very day; having nine prior miscarriages – most occurring exactly at this time – the tenth week. Silently I scream little bean so scared I’ll lose you next. In honor of the nine prior lives’s I have had to give up far too early and without explanation of event I decided to take this day and defeat the fear within. Utilizing social media and reaching out to the friends who I have built such a stout bond with, I broke the news of my current pregnancy; but still I couldn’t shake the doubt from the back of my mind. Each friend congratulated me and reveled their shock, it felt wonderful to visual see the depictions of friendship when I needed them most. Again, our friends were wonderful and the few I told detailed of were quick to attempt to assist in relieving the burden of blaming myself. Next, telling my family; the best time to do so may just be during my laboring. Believe me it would reduce the stress that I know is to come. Regardless, I am even scared talking about my pregnancy will produce complications that cause hardships. Such a emotional day in the cherished memory of the nine children I lost.

[ourcoffeebean-blog]

Ten Week Gestation: A Milestone

  10 Weeks – Barely the size of a kumquat fruit, a quarter of a ounce, and just over a inch in length your little one has completed the initial stage of critical development. Ten weeks is a beginning of the medical period dubbed the fetal period, a time in which tissues and organs in the body rapidly grow and mature until delivery once full term and ready to break free. The baby is now swallowing fluid and kicking a great deal but these kicks will not be felt at this stage. The kidneys, brain, intestines, and liver now produce red blood cells in replace of a absent yolk sac that was evident after implantation. Tiny nails are forming on fingers and toes, that are no longer fused together, and peach fuzz hair grows on tender baby skin for protection. In additional development the limbs can now bend and flex, the spine is formed and spinal nerves are beginning to stretch out over the body. Over the next week the baby will double in size in accordance to normal fetal development (BabyCenter) My 10 Week Experience – I found out four weeks ago I was expecting and it hasn’t sunk in quite yet I am going to have a little baby, boy or girl; from the initial appointment we do know I am only having one child. Any symptoms of pregnancy as stated are very minor. Several times in late afternoon I have been sick to my stomach (without vomiting) and several times I have awakened to a headache that has continued throughout the day. My breasts are so tender they cannot be touched, the worst of all symptoms I should be having at this point in time. They have filled out my bra to a full D-cup already; nipples have darkened a very light brown shade. The size of my stomach has not changed due to the fact I am underweight (by 24 pounds). I expect it to change soon as my breast have thus far. Milestone - I have never carried a child a full ten weeks, with nine miscarriages in my past. This little one is a fighter and likewise I am fighting for my child.

[ourcoffeebean-blog]

Pregnancy. Death. Terminal Illness.

I met with the specialist who I was initially scheduled to be assessed by, however an appointment that I first thought to be routine turned into anything but. Focusing upon my terminal diagnoses, chronic pain, prolapsed rectum, as well as my illness I had no chance to inform the doctor of the month prior where I felt like an absolutely new person. From the small bit of medical training I had in nursing I knew I couldn’t continue a strong narcotic and the potential of damage from such a drug may have had damaging effects. As the moments passed and the doctor spoke.. the magic of pregnancy ceased its sudden thrill, painted in the coldness of black and white reality. The adjoining of sperm with egg with my illness had a potential to kill, the likelihood I would lose my child prior to the end of the first trimester was nearly 80% if not higher, and as described even my death was an immensely high probably. The nightmare unfolded before me from behind a desk.

I was told that my best option was to terminate my pregnancy. The word “terminate” echoed from this small four walled room cluttered with medical books as deep within my body an intense anger started to develop. Charlie arose from his seat dropping down near me so he could tightly embrace my shaking body, at the time I was unaware of the emotions I felt within quaked my body so. Blabbering like an infant I looked the doctor into the eye and repeated the word no, traumatically. “The Lord put this miracle within my womb for a reason.” . I looked at the doctor who suggested I abort and next to Charlie inside I became a little girl myself, crying out silently for one person to recognize my emotional pain; the pain of desiring a single event to complete me, the birth of my own little one. I would go through this pregnancy regardless of the costs that I would face, I would risk everything to feel this child developing within.  I was willing to sacrifice my life, to give life to this child – our child.

I was taken to another area of the large hospital where a female was standing by to perform a primary ultrasound as a precaution due to my failing health and also due in part to the strong medication I had been on during the clinical trial. Everyone was scrambling in their own skin as I should had received a medical test for pregnancy four weeks prior, which was not provided. Inside I had high doubts simply because I still couldn’t fathom pregnancy or perhaps because I wasn’t prepared to face another miscarriage from an illness so demoniac — I just knew the urine and blood results were both a mistake and that nothing would be found and more than once I expressed this to Charlie as well as the sea of nurses near to me. Denial took over my body as I held his strong hand his look of confusion turned into one of anticipation, wincing at the uncomfortable cold lubricating gel squirted directly onto my flat underweight exposed abdomen. The technician wasted no time obtaining an image, I was in fact shocked as to how quick the world changed as our future was directly in front of our faces — enclosed within a tiny bubble within my womb. The black and white image was one so small nothing could properly be distinguished by our untrained mind. I begin to cry as millions of doubts rushed in, yet coupled together with each an immense happiness captivated my heart. I had finally became allowed that one single wish to become a mother. I looked into his eyes but my lips were empty, I could not grasp the words to speak. Glancing between him and the image so pure on the monitor I knew nothing to say; he put his finger tenderly against my lips and a tear trickled down his face. Words meant absolutely nothing.

As we were told my pregnancy was exceedingly early, we were shuffled to a final meeting at the medical center to discuss much of what the prior doctor has informed us about; with a obstetrician who specialized in high risk pregnancies. Both the image and exam concluded a gestational estimation of about six weeks with a due date of March 4. We were told even so early a tiny heart had begun to beat and a tiny brain had begun to develop. It was at this moment we dubbed our miracle ‘our little baby bean’. By grace and a miracle from the Heavens absolutely nothing was wrong and I had no strange pregnancy signs to report. The road ahead would be a passage, come hell or high water I was prepared to accomplish every single moment and bring our little bean into the world.

[ourcoffeebean-blog]

Sperm Meets Egg: Six Weeks In My Womb

Tonight I find myself sitting in the hallowed silence, pen in hand, giving life on paper to the fears of an upcoming future – hoping one day I will be cleared to digitize my words and turn fear into memories. A pregnancy journal, well kept; always a dream I never shared with anyone. Presently, four days have slowly passed since astonished bliss interrupted an existence so lonely, darkened, and destructed by immense heartache and now a terminal health diagnoses. Conclusively through blood and urine the professionals believe I am around six (6) weeks gestation; a child just beginning to breathe interior of my womb – my precious little baby. I had experienced nothing different, since the age of nine my cycles were never classified as regular by any means. Pregnancy, I would have never considered such; the word even brings exceeding heartbreak. My child, I know I am going to lose you - please baby, please hang on. Lord allow forth this blessing of life. I will forever be honored, Father. Week Six – A number of major developments are occurring this week within the womb. Facial features of the nose, ears, and mouth will set your son or daughter apart from his/her peers at birth are progressing to just take shape – giving you something to kiss in just eight months. Your baby’s eyes and his/her nostrils are also structuring themselves as part of the senses for the weeks ahead. In addition the ears appear as tiny depressions on either side of a large head as legs and arms protrude from an infinitesimal body looking like minuscule buds. Surprise! Your baby’s heart has begun to beat at about 160 times per minute (twice as fast as yours); some declare this rate is a barrier to gender before the anatomy reveal weeks away. Intestines are developing and tiny soft tissue forms his or her lungs and brain; harder cells form bone and muscle. Right now your little bean is a quarter inch long and weighs as much as a single dry lentil (bean).

[ourcoffeebean-blog]

Our Ultimate Beginning

  Webster has fallen short in his personal discovery of the verbalized and written language known for its pure globalized standard, English. Austerely no words, patterns, particles, or phases exist within a language so extensive to properly convey this beloved feeling deep within my soul –a soul darkened by its many cracks. Fallen to my knees in the silence of this ebony night I have pleaded with the Lord, Jesus Christ, through the sincerity of prayer for this moment to never be forgotten. A moment that I ache to never have crumble, a moment never to be replaced; softly its caress astonishing and unbelievable. Uncertain as to my declaration, evident this sudden nostalgia well beyond expected. I yearn, eager to profess my revelation from the tallest snow-capped peaks; no longer able to contained my exhilaration. My friends, beyond a shadow of a doubt the truth is known; I’m expecting – pregnant! Exactly one month prior I began a clinical trial in relation to my terminal and chronic illness; a trial with the promise to allow a normalized life – lessening my chances of death and banishing the pain. Typical of my personality I remained nothing short of skeptical. Each day, within the first month, provided betterment; I felt completely different in ways I never knew possible. Evident the medication was functioning as intended but still too early to determine the assistance a success I was medically obligated to report back at exact one-month intervals for lab work and a routine urine test. I was initially caught off guard with happiness to be included and to have the education trials for quality of life were being worked on medically; diagnosed terminal at a youthful twenty-one. Never would I have toyed with the idea or considered pregnancy, not with my dramatically damaging health issues and ailments. Charlie and I gave up trying to conceive years prior due in part to the dreadful let downs of a negative test or approaching menstrual cycle – it was something that would never happen for us we thought. Can you imagine my surprise? I sit here and continued I ponder “how can that be” or “indefinitely, is that really true”. I am afraid to believe, fearful to be built up and in mere weeks tumble like a house of cards. Almost immediate after submitting the specimen it was the nurse’s expression that told the thermal picture. She hustled to another area to consult with the team scientifically analyzing my blood work. Charlie and I both were on edge, in the pit of my stomach I knew I had held hopes too high and something serious was indeed wrong. Moments later it was clear in a conference room at the University of Kentucky medical center we were to become proud parents. But what was it that I had engaged in differently, it wasn’t solely betterment of my health and our sexual yearning failed to change. It was my product test of a herbal substance “wild yam”. A pea size application had changed life forever. Ironic but true, a glass not half full.