There Will Be No More Babies

She seemed to be looking for something, as we stomped our way to the park. She'd pound her red-headed hammer against a telephone pole or a rock (don't bam bam the tree, sweet girl, it's alive) then peer into the grass; the rustling branches of a rosemary bush.

"What do you see?" I asked.
Instead of answering, she muttered into her dirt covered hand.

High Risk Pregnancy vol 1

Originally posted to Livejournal September 03, 2010

12 weeks gestation as of yesterday, and hello official Game Plan!  Well, sort of.

We had a day chock full of appointments yesterday, beginning at a 10am nuchal translucency ultrasound to screen for Down Syndrome.  We did the same thing last time with Christopher Robin since I'd be 35 at birth and therefore would be entering the realm of (dun dun dun...) Advanced Maternal Age!!!  (Or, if you think you are very hilarious like my sister and my husband, then it's (dun dun dun) Geriatric Pregnancy!!!)  Seeing as I am like many people out there and get older and not younger with each passing birthday, I am old again and get "offered" different options for genetic screening to make sure that we have a well formed fetus growing inside of me. 

time

Originally posted to Livejournal November 7, 2009

I don't know the weeks and days off the top of my head anymore, but I still go back and count every once in awhile; I'd be 28 weeks along today if I hadn't lost the baby.

When I first got pregnant, I focused on getting past week 12 when the chance of miscarriage plummets as the placenta is formed.  After week 12, I turned my attention to week 24.  24 weeks is when a pre-term baby could potentially be viable, as their lungs are mature enough to react to the steroid treatments used to help them develop.  Beyond that is week 26, when I lost my first pregnancy to pre-term labor, and Jonas traded my womb for an incubator. 

How is Babby Formed?

Originally posted to Livejournal July 26, 2009

Ian and I had been tossing around the idea of kids for a couple of years now. We discussed it off an on for pretty much our entire relationship, mostly because I knew that I wasn't sure if I wanted to be done having kids or not, and I thought it was really important that I let Ian know that. I was also pretty certain that he was dead set against having kids, so I kept wanting to find out if this was actually the case sooner rather than later, because I didn't want to talk about getting married or anything like that if we were decidedly on different sides of the fence regarding children. Turns out, we were both avid fence hoppers, only truly agreeing when we met in the middle of that big, scary subject of PROCREATING.

The Un-Secret Secret of My Postpartum Depression

Anyone peeking into any given moment in the months after my children's births would see a woman in the midst of a life-and-death struggle. I either wept or nearly wept as I paced the floor with Jonas, terrified to be alone with him after sixteen weeks of support in the NICU. Uniquely attuned to his feeding apnea, I was the only one who could feed him for months; that quickly morphed into a belief that I was the only one who could care for him at all. I was so sleep deprived that I experienced hallucinations and so anxious that my hands chapped from repetitive washing.

Don't Dwell

When I was very newly pregnant with Iliana, someone included in their congratulations "Don't dwell on that bad thing. Everything happens for a reason."

I smiled and nodded, because this person wasn't really a friend and she had absolutely the best intentions. It just so happened that she was being an asshole, but not because she was trying to be.

Pregnant Lady is Pregnant

Originally posted to Livejournal September 19, 2009 - six days before my son was stillborn

21 weeks and man, are they going fast. Pregnancy always seems like such a long period of time in theory, but all of a sudden we're over the halfway point and CRAP where the hell are we going to put this thing when it gets here?! Our house is plenty big enough, but the space isn't at all laid out for an amorous couple, a ten year old spastic case and a squawking infant. Add to that the awesome timing of trying to toilet train the baby when Jonas hits his teen years, and the remodeling of our decommissioned basement bathroom gets moved a bit higher up the list of house projects, suddenly ranking higher than the kegerator.

The sacrifices that parents make for our children... we really should get a bigger tax credit for it.

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