I've decided to update this blog with all
the info that happened after we announced our pregnancy. It's been a lot,
including the birth of our son James Bauer (JB) almost three months ago. The next few posts will
be a series dealing with my pregnancy complications, delivery of our son, his
early days, and life since then. It has been on my heart to finish this blog
with a positive message about our infertility journey. I do know there are
people still in the storm that need the extra support, and follow this blog to
find it. My journey is not over. It never will be. But, more on that to come...
I went to the hospital seven times during
my pregnancy. Only one of which was to deliver my son. The other six times were
suspected miscarriage. At 10 weeks, I was in the ER for bleeding and cramping.
At 17 weeks, the fetus stopped moving, and they had difficulty finding his
heartbeat. At 22 weeks, I was admitted to the hospital for 48 hours to treat
dehydration, which I got from throwing up literally every day of my pregnancy. In
my third trimester, there were three more times I had bleeding and cramping.
The last time was the week before I was to be induced, and I actually thought I
was in labor. This may sound like a bit of paranoia. I worried that there were
people who thought that. But, every time I would bleed, I went to the hospital,
because I worried that the one time I didn't, would be the one time I needed
to.
Babies are parasites during pregnancy. My
little parasite grew big and strong, while I grew weak an fragile. The morning
sickness I had is called Hyperemesis gravidarium. I continued to vomit at least
once a day for 32 weeks straight. I lost around 15 pounds during the first two
trimesters. Since I am a big girl anyway, my OB wasn't too concerned with the
weight loss, as long as my high risk specialist saw growth in the baby. I did
eventually gain the weight back, plus 17 additional pounds, but that didn't
happen until after the 32 week mark when I started wanting to eat and have cravings. The main things I craved were chicken strips, mozzarella sticks, and salad bar from Jason's Deli.
Along with the Hyperemesis, I was
diagnosed with gestational diabetes. I saw an Endocrinologist for the GD.
Initially, he left me on Glumetza (a form of Metformin, which regulates insulin
production in women with PCOS and diabetics) to help maintain my sugar levels.
I pricked my finger, and used a sugar reader five times a day to ensure I was
taking the correct dosage. The biggest problem with Glumetza is that the pills
are huge, and I was taking three of them. At 32 weeks, they were no longer
controlling my sugar levels properly, because I threw up nearly every time I
took one. My Endocrinologist finally decided it was time to use insulin shots
to regulate my sugar, and that's when I stopped throwing up. Part of me wished
he would have just switched my medicine a long time ago, but the other part of
me understood. Insulin during pregnancy causes the baby to grow big and fast.
If I weren't already being induced because of my Factor V blood clotting
disorder, I would be induced for the insulin. Just to give you an idea of how
fast the babies grow on insulin, JB was 2lbs 6oz at 31 weeks. He was to grow
half a pound a week until birth, which would make him around 8lbs at 40 weeks.
He was 8lbs, 2oz, two weeks early.
It was hard for me to be so sick during my
pregnancy. I wanted to be the pregnant woman who radiated pure joy. The one who
looked so put together every day that the only evidence of her pregnancy was
the bump under her shirt. Instead, I didn't have the energy to wear makeup,
brushing my teeth made me vomit, and my bump looked more "big, fat
lady" than "glowing mother-to-be". I was pretty miserable. I was
weak and in pain. I was dehydrated, despite the fact I only drank water my
whole pregnancy. I had high blood pressure on the regular, even though I had
never struggled with this before. Regardless, I was filled with joy in my
heart, because my son was growing inside me.
I had the privilege of a very active baby.
I felt him move for the first time at 15 weeks. At that time, it didn't feel
like his kicks I would feel later; it felt more like a knot in my stomach
turning over. As he got bigger, I would relish watching my belly bounce up in
down as a reminder that he was there. He was so strong that he would kick my
laptop off of my belly. He was a bit of a space hog. My body wasn't enough, he
needed the space outside of it too. My kid was awesome! It made everything
worth it to feel him explore the insides of my abdomen.
I heard a quote once from Erma Bombeck
that said, "Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy, I'd have cherished
every moment and realized the wonderment growing inside me was the only chance
in life to assist God in a miracle." Despite everything, that is exactly
how I felt. I helped God make a miracle. Holding onto that notion is what made every
pill I took for two years to conceive, every episode of Hyperemesis, every
insulin shot I gave myself, and every long wait at the OB's office worth it. My
son was a miracle.
After 38 weeks of parasitic behavior, my
miracle was being evicted from the womb where I grew him. It was time for the
"Miracle of Birth."
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