So, after having a baby, six weeks is the number men and women look forward to. For me (and i believe mothers in general) six weeks represents the all important, very exciting, first smile from my newborn child. Around that time my hard work pays off when finally this little person shows appreciation for all that I do. For Scott (and I believe men in general) six weeks is when sex can safely be resumed. Well any mother will tell you that six weeks after a traumatic, vagina tearing, uterus cramping, lack of sleep, sore nipples, barely able to say your own name three times fast event, sex is the furthest thing from your mind. SO when my hubby (whose usually quite attuned with my needs, caring, loving and nurturing) asked me to fix the Internet on the laptop in our bedroom I agreed and didn't think much more of it (our tower had bit the dust and the 20 year old...okay 5 year old...laptop was the only piece of computer technology we had on hand). He quickly said he would join me upstairs but I had just put Edie to sleep (not an easy feat with a colicky baby) and I refused to move her, and refused to have her left alone on the couch in the TV room. So Scott agreed to stay downstairs while i attempted to fix the Internet.
I came downstairs a half hour later defeated. The old laptop just wasn't going to connect to the Internet. Scott seemed annoyed but I chalked it up to having no Internet. For the next 6 hours Scott ran hot and cold. He would interact with me normally one minute, and then the next minute would completely ignore me, giving me the silent treatment. Now normally this kind of behaviour would raise a red flag but truthfully I was exhausted and didn't care, more over his behaviour wasn't severe enough to really register on my 'Scott's mad o meter' .
Five minutes before Scott left for work he revealed why he had been aloof all day. He was mad because today was the 14th, and he had that dated circled (his words not mine) for the all important love making session that would occur. My disbelief and shock soon turned to rage. He had that date circled?!?! Well by all means let the romance begin. He then asked accusingly if I had noticed anything different about our bedroom..."no...did you clean it?" because in my mind that would have been a momentous occasion and deserve reward. "No, I made up Edie's cot, and there was a condom and lube on the bedside table". Again my shock at his lack of foresight was enormous...was he really digging this hole even deeper for himself? "well excuse me" I retorted. "If I had noticed what effort you put into finding lube and a condom, I would have been taken aback by your alluringly romantic intentions. How dare I not notice how much time you put into having your wife switch from mommy mode to sex kitten. Who cares that I haven't slept a solid night since Edie came home, that I haven't showered or shaved for three days, or that I'm still stiff and sore since her birth. By all means may I once more put my needs last so I can fulfill someone else's".
Scott mumbled something about being late and started to walk out the door when I yelled "if you want it, earn it". When he got home the next day my lecture continued and I said that since he clearly wasn't understanding what women need I would spell it out for him. "I want time to myself, a bath drawn for me, some candles, maybe a glass of wine. Then I want a massage, and after I feel human again, then you will receive my bounty. Until then you can go visit Miss Palm a la Handerson and never mention your ill fated attempt at sex again.
He did let me have a bath and gave me a full body massage and although it was missing some key romantic ingredients, I rewarded the effort, and I think hes a little wiser to what I require for next time. At the very least I hope he realizes that "fix the Internet" will never register as an obvious hint for having sex in an already exhausted and barely there mommy mind, although really, I'm not sure it would have registered as a request for sex in a fully rested brain either.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Tears
Well it seems these days that crying is all my children seem to do. I'm sure this is an exaggeration at least regarding Gabriel, but Eden just never seems to stop crying during the day. I've tried so many different things it ridiculous and nothing seems to work. I've tried Oval, Bio Gaia, tummy massages, leg pumping, jiggling, walking, rocking, singing, cooing and she responds to none of it (unless its to cry even harder). Finally I have come to realize that perhaps her colic is directly tied to my breast milk. The only thing I can think is that since Gabe is lactose intolerant, so is Edie. So goodbye milk, cheese, butter...anything dairy for me. SO sad since i absolutely love my fiber one cereal in the morning and my cool glass of milk at dinner. I have also decided that she won't be doing all day feeding marathons anymore and through research I have discovered that babies do this when they are not receiving enough hind milk. SO in order to stop the all day feeding marathons i have to keep her to one breast every time she wants a top up or a suckle. I just find it weird that she has such a difficult time during the day but feeds and sleeps like a champ at night. I just hope that with the new routine of a lactose free diet for me and top ups from the same breast for her we can beat the colic and thus the incessant crying.
If I can prevent her from screaming all day I can prevent Gabriel from the tantrums he is now throwing on a regular basis due to the severe lack of time I get to spend with him. I feel so guilty neglecting him and I try and spend as much time with him when Scott's home, which doesn't amount to very much since Edie has decided she hates Scott. I'm not exaggerating, not even a little. She can be completely content in her chair or in my arms and the minute she is held by Scott, literally within a minute, she resumes her hysterical crying once more. Truthfully I think Edie is having a bit of colic due to lower gastrointestinal issues but I also think its partially personality. She is so attached to me that she can be sound asleep and if she wakes, even just briefly, to see that I am not in the room she will cry. If shes held by anyone else, she cries. If I leave her line of sight for a brief period of time, she cries. Now I love that she loves me, but this is becoming ridiculous. At this rate she will be living in my home until shes 40 because god forbid she spend more than a nanosecond on her own.
Now I know shes only two months old and my patience should not be wearing as thin as it is but Gabriel was so different as a baby. He was the most serene, laid back, baby who ever lived. It took quite a bit to make him cry, he was always so happy. Just such a good baby that I jokingly referred to him as "bad baby"; of course as with all things, he found this alliteration hilarious. SO in comparison its hard to have a baby who is upset the majority of the time, although in those rare instances during the day that she smiles, and coos, it makes all of it worth it.
God knows I love my kids, now if one could love me a bit less I think the household would be a little happier ;)
If I can prevent her from screaming all day I can prevent Gabriel from the tantrums he is now throwing on a regular basis due to the severe lack of time I get to spend with him. I feel so guilty neglecting him and I try and spend as much time with him when Scott's home, which doesn't amount to very much since Edie has decided she hates Scott. I'm not exaggerating, not even a little. She can be completely content in her chair or in my arms and the minute she is held by Scott, literally within a minute, she resumes her hysterical crying once more. Truthfully I think Edie is having a bit of colic due to lower gastrointestinal issues but I also think its partially personality. She is so attached to me that she can be sound asleep and if she wakes, even just briefly, to see that I am not in the room she will cry. If shes held by anyone else, she cries. If I leave her line of sight for a brief period of time, she cries. Now I love that she loves me, but this is becoming ridiculous. At this rate she will be living in my home until shes 40 because god forbid she spend more than a nanosecond on her own.
Now I know shes only two months old and my patience should not be wearing as thin as it is but Gabriel was so different as a baby. He was the most serene, laid back, baby who ever lived. It took quite a bit to make him cry, he was always so happy. Just such a good baby that I jokingly referred to him as "bad baby"; of course as with all things, he found this alliteration hilarious. SO in comparison its hard to have a baby who is upset the majority of the time, although in those rare instances during the day that she smiles, and coos, it makes all of it worth it.
God knows I love my kids, now if one could love me a bit less I think the household would be a little happier ;)
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Edie the Sweetie
On April 3rd Scott and I moved into our new home. Its beautiful, and serene but I love it mainly because its our first family home together. Gabe's biggest thrill about the new house was the carpets. We had never had carpets before and he would spend hours running around and diving all over them! My favorite part of owing my own home was the need to decorate it. I spent way too much money on home furnishings but in my defence I had three floors to decorate! Besides its our own little finishing touches which makes this house ours.
On June 29th (three months after moving in) Scott and I decided to explore our new little town and ended up travelling to a lake on the outskirts of our little town. As it turns out it would be the last thing we ever did as a three person family.
After wading around in the water with Gabe for about a half an hour I suddenly felt a gush of fluid and knew immediately that my water had broken. Scott was on the beach so I took Gabe's hand and we walked back to shore. When I got to Scott I told him that we should head back into town now. He looked at me quizzically and asked "why"? When I replied that it was because my water had broken his response was immediate panic. "WHAT! We're an hour out of town!!" He grabbed Gabe and practically ran back to the vehicle. I told him that I was just going to go to the bathroom to double check. When i got to the Porto potty I decided i had to pee as well. I closely inspected my underwear first and determined that my water had definitely broken and then sat down to go. After peeing for a few seconds i felt something brushing up against my butt. I immediately thought it was a spider and being an arachnophobe I panicked and jumped up as quickly as possible. I glanced back and saw more than a few hundred flies leave the toilet, filling the Porto potty with a black insect cloud, apparently they weren't impressed that I had just pissed on them. I stumbled out of the bathroom with my pants around my ankles...thankfully no one was around to see that little show and I quickly made my way back to the vehicle where i announced that flies had just attacked me. Scott, ever patient, demanded to know if my water had broken. I told him it had. Having gone through this once before he didn't question me on my certainty but instead drove back into town like a cop chasing a suspect. A trip that should have taken an hour took us 15 minutes. At that time we had no idea that this labour would be longer than the first and the need for quick action was less than needed.
That night I phoned the hospital to tell them my membranes had ruptured, and they told me to come in to get it verified. We dropped Gabe off with his Uncle Shaun and Aunt Denise and made our way to the Abbotsford Regional Hospital. Once there they confirmed my suspicion and told me that they would induce me the following morning if I didn't start labour naturally that night. Again, they were worried about infection if I was left too long with broken membranes. As it would turn out I wouldn't need to be induced. I started labour that night and laboured for six hours before heading back to the hospital. When I got there I was only three centimeters dilated and that was my first indication that a quick and easy labour was slipping from my grasp. I walked around the hospital for another hour before they admitted me and by then the contractions were getting quite intense. Again I was having a lot of back pain and when my doctor checked me she announced that the could "feel the fontanelle's" and I was a "face presentation". In other words Eden was face up like Gabe. This causes back labour because then the back of the baby's head bounces off your spine as they drop and descend farther into your pelvis. By the time I hit 5 cm the pain was just too much to bear. I was in the shower on the birthing ball wishing to god they had a bath when salvation arrived in the form of an anesthesiologist. I was going to receive an epidural. Thank God! Little did I know things would not go as planned for my epidural and I would end up in even more pain than I already was, something at that time, I couldn't imagine was possible.
Soon I was sitting on the bed with my legs hanging off, hunched over and leaning on the nurse while the doctor sterilized my back, froze it, and then tried to find a good place between my spine to put the catheter for the anesthetic. He shoved a needle into my spine once, twice, three times...four, five, six....his hands were shaking at this point...seven, eight...then he decided to call in a different anesthesiologist who got it in on the first try. Twenty minutes later and after a few tests were done on my legs the nurse realized that the epidural hadn't taken. Later on we would discover that the catheter had been stuck in a vein. I remember that in between contractions i would think "maybe its finally starting to work" then another contraction would hit and I would know that the medicine definitely hadn't kicked in.
The unfortunate thing about having a catheter stuck in your back is that you have to lay on it. Being required to lay flat on your back while in back labour is enough to make you pray for death. By the time I was ready to push I was telling Scott I couldn't do it. My back didn't just ache, it burned, which I can only assume was caused by the faulty catheter. In fact, my back burned so much that I was absolutely convinced I would leave the delivery room with third degree burns and kept touching my back to reassure myself that it wasn't blistering.
After 14 hours in labour, the nurse determined that I was 10 cm dilated and Edie's head was so far down that she could actually see it. She told me that I should give a little push so she could evaluate how long it would take me to deliver her. Scott intervened and said that I was a really good pusher and got Gabe out in a little under 25 minutes with only five pushes. She still insisted that I try. I looked at Scott shrugged and did as i was told. Almost immediately the nurse started yelling at me to stop pushing!! Scott laughed and said "i told you". I was less amused and told her to phone the "beeping" doctor cause i wanted this thing out of me!! The nurse made the call. The doctor finally arrived, right around the point I had decided to deliver the baby myself, and after only four pushes Eden's head emerged. "well dad, do you want to get your hands dirty?" she asked Scott. Scott looked bewildered, "What?!" "Reach down and grab her dad, you can deliver her the rest of the way". Scott turned a bit ashen and told the doctor that it was quite alright if she did it. At that point i just wanted one of them to flipping deliver her and told them so. After one more push the doctor delivered my daughter and Scott stuck by the old standby of cutting the cord.
Eden arrived in this world at 2:26 pm on June 30th, 2009. She weighed 6lbs 10 ounces and was 50 cm long and absolutely beautiful. Unfortunately she was born with a temperature and had to stay in the NICU for two days while receiving IV antibiotics. I had hoped to avoid the NICU this time around but luckily after the two days were up her blood tests came back clean and we were able to bring her home.
I was stiff and sore for the next few weeks and my back still aches to t
his day but she is so worth it. My favorite things to do now is to watch my two kids interact with one another. Edie has decided that she hates Gabe and screams bloody murder when she sees him coming and Gabe has decided that Edie is his baby. He gives her a soother if he sees it has fallen out of her mouth (a little too roughly), covers her with blankets when he sees she doesn't have one, steals wipes when I'm changing her diapers and washes her with them and he tries to pick her up when she cries ( of course I don't allow this!) Those two bring me so much laughter and joy. Being a mother is worth all the trouble of pregnancy and birth. I would do it all over again. Although if I had to do it again I would avoid the epidural all together!
On June 29th (three months after moving in) Scott and I decided to explore our new little town and ended up travelling to a lake on the outskirts of our little town. As it turns out it would be the last thing we ever did as a three person family.
After wading around in the water with Gabe for about a half an hour I suddenly felt a gush of fluid and knew immediately that my water had broken. Scott was on the beach so I took Gabe's hand and we walked back to shore. When I got to Scott I told him that we should head back into town now. He looked at me quizzically and asked "why"? When I replied that it was because my water had broken his response was immediate panic. "WHAT! We're an hour out of town!!" He grabbed Gabe and practically ran back to the vehicle. I told him that I was just going to go to the bathroom to double check. When i got to the Porto potty I decided i had to pee as well. I closely inspected my underwear first and determined that my water had definitely broken and then sat down to go. After peeing for a few seconds i felt something brushing up against my butt. I immediately thought it was a spider and being an arachnophobe I panicked and jumped up as quickly as possible. I glanced back and saw more than a few hundred flies leave the toilet, filling the Porto potty with a black insect cloud, apparently they weren't impressed that I had just pissed on them. I stumbled out of the bathroom with my pants around my ankles...thankfully no one was around to see that little show and I quickly made my way back to the vehicle where i announced that flies had just attacked me. Scott, ever patient, demanded to know if my water had broken. I told him it had. Having gone through this once before he didn't question me on my certainty but instead drove back into town like a cop chasing a suspect. A trip that should have taken an hour took us 15 minutes. At that time we had no idea that this labour would be longer than the first and the need for quick action was less than needed.
That night I phoned the hospital to tell them my membranes had ruptured, and they told me to come in to get it verified. We dropped Gabe off with his Uncle Shaun and Aunt Denise and made our way to the Abbotsford Regional Hospital. Once there they confirmed my suspicion and told me that they would induce me the following morning if I didn't start labour naturally that night. Again, they were worried about infection if I was left too long with broken membranes. As it would turn out I wouldn't need to be induced. I started labour that night and laboured for six hours before heading back to the hospital. When I got there I was only three centimeters dilated and that was my first indication that a quick and easy labour was slipping from my grasp. I walked around the hospital for another hour before they admitted me and by then the contractions were getting quite intense. Again I was having a lot of back pain and when my doctor checked me she announced that the could "feel the fontanelle's" and I was a "face presentation". In other words Eden was face up like Gabe. This causes back labour because then the back of the baby's head bounces off your spine as they drop and descend farther into your pelvis. By the time I hit 5 cm the pain was just too much to bear. I was in the shower on the birthing ball wishing to god they had a bath when salvation arrived in the form of an anesthesiologist. I was going to receive an epidural. Thank God! Little did I know things would not go as planned for my epidural and I would end up in even more pain than I already was, something at that time, I couldn't imagine was possible.
Soon I was sitting on the bed with my legs hanging off, hunched over and leaning on the nurse while the doctor sterilized my back, froze it, and then tried to find a good place between my spine to put the catheter for the anesthetic. He shoved a needle into my spine once, twice, three times...four, five, six....his hands were shaking at this point...seven, eight...then he decided to call in a different anesthesiologist who got it in on the first try. Twenty minutes later and after a few tests were done on my legs the nurse realized that the epidural hadn't taken. Later on we would discover that the catheter had been stuck in a vein. I remember that in between contractions i would think "maybe its finally starting to work" then another contraction would hit and I would know that the medicine definitely hadn't kicked in.
The unfortunate thing about having a catheter stuck in your back is that you have to lay on it. Being required to lay flat on your back while in back labour is enough to make you pray for death. By the time I was ready to push I was telling Scott I couldn't do it. My back didn't just ache, it burned, which I can only assume was caused by the faulty catheter. In fact, my back burned so much that I was absolutely convinced I would leave the delivery room with third degree burns and kept touching my back to reassure myself that it wasn't blistering.
After 14 hours in labour, the nurse determined that I was 10 cm dilated and Edie's head was so far down that she could actually see it. She told me that I should give a little push so she could evaluate how long it would take me to deliver her. Scott intervened and said that I was a really good pusher and got Gabe out in a little under 25 minutes with only five pushes. She still insisted that I try. I looked at Scott shrugged and did as i was told. Almost immediately the nurse started yelling at me to stop pushing!! Scott laughed and said "i told you". I was less amused and told her to phone the "beeping" doctor cause i wanted this thing out of me!! The nurse made the call. The doctor finally arrived, right around the point I had decided to deliver the baby myself, and after only four pushes Eden's head emerged. "well dad, do you want to get your hands dirty?" she asked Scott. Scott looked bewildered, "What?!" "Reach down and grab her dad, you can deliver her the rest of the way". Scott turned a bit ashen and told the doctor that it was quite alright if she did it. At that point i just wanted one of them to flipping deliver her and told them so. After one more push the doctor delivered my daughter and Scott stuck by the old standby of cutting the cord.
Eden arrived in this world at 2:26 pm on June 30th, 2009. She weighed 6lbs 10 ounces and was 50 cm long and absolutely beautiful. Unfortunately she was born with a temperature and had to stay in the NICU for two days while receiving IV antibiotics. I had hoped to avoid the NICU this time around but luckily after the two days were up her blood tests came back clean and we were able to bring her home.
I was stiff and sore for the next few weeks and my back still aches to t
his day but she is so worth it. My favorite things to do now is to watch my two kids interact with one another. Edie has decided that she hates Gabe and screams bloody murder when she sees him coming and Gabe has decided that Edie is his baby. He gives her a soother if he sees it has fallen out of her mouth (a little too roughly), covers her with blankets when he sees she doesn't have one, steals wipes when I'm changing her diapers and washes her with them and he tries to pick her up when she cries ( of course I don't allow this!) Those two bring me so much laughter and joy. Being a mother is worth all the trouble of pregnancy and birth. I would do it all over again. Although if I had to do it again I would avoid the epidural all together!
Monday, July 27, 2009
Perfection with a little work.
The next two weeks were spent in the Prince George Neonatal Intensive Care Unit where Scott and I were taught anything you could ever need or want to know about babies. We learned to give baths, change diapers, clean the belly button area, and breast feed (the breast feeding was mainly my domain!) We also learned to adjust wires, gavage feed (he was tube fed for the first week as he was too weak to eat), weigh and take his temperature. Scott and I spent most nights in the hospital with him, sleeping together in the single bed they had in his room, not an easy feat if you've ever seen Scott in person...he's not a little guy!
Lucky for us the only true problem he had was eating and that resolved with soother time, and bottle feeds (they helped to develop the muscles in his cheeks for suckling). He did have three decels within the first two days after his birth (his breathing and heart rate dropped off) but that also resolved in a short period of time. He was the perfect preemie and we were told as long as he continued to gain weight we would be able to bring him home sooner than expected.
Before being released he had to pass a car seat challenge test (a preemie is weaker than the normal infant, and due to the position they are put in while in a car seat, they can stop breathing after a period of time because they can't lift their chin off their chests). He passed the hour long test with flying colors!
Gabe was ready to leave after 13 days in the NICU. As his parents we were given careful instructions on how to keep him safe and healthy. We were told that for the next three months we shouldn't take him out to any public places (like malls, restaurants, etc) because his immune system was still immature and any cold or flu bug could create infection and land him right back in the NICU. We were also told that sterilizing bottles, which we used strictly for vitamin D drops and Iron drops, and sterilizing his soother everyday was a must. The nurses informed us that we would not be able to take him on long road trips without stopping every hour to let him out of his car seat so that his little muscles could take a break. Finally we were given a handful of exercises to do with him in order to build his strength and it was stressed how vitally important tummy time would be for him.
Convinced that we had everything in hand we were given the go ahead to leave. We were taking our baby home and I don't think I've been anymore scared in my entire life.
To say that Scott and I over did it in the first few months would be an understatement. We sterilized everything; his soothers, nipples, bottles, crib, changing pad (to the point that it was falling apart). We washed our hands so many times a day that both of our hands would crack and bleed. The trip we had to make every month for him to see his paediatrician was an hour and a half and we would stop at Vanderhoof every time to let him out of the car seat. I sat in the back seat with him, with a mirror under his nose for the first four months of his life to ensure he was still breathing...needless to say...we were pretty exhausted by the time he was six months old.
We also had appointments with our family doctor every month, nurses who specialized in infant massage, and infant development coming to do home visits to assess him and give us even more exercises to do. We also had appointments with the child development center because he wasn't using the left side of his body and was once again given a multitude of physical therapy exercises for him. Gabe was probably the most well cared for infant in all of Fraser Lake and we were probably the most informed parents in that little town as well.
We were told that certain products on the market we would not be allowed to use as it could stunt his physical development even more than it already was. We weren't allowed to use "Bumbos", as it encourages kids not to develop proper muscles in their backs and tummys for sitting, not to use "exersaucers" or "jolly jumpers" as it encouraged arched backs and pointed toes which would affect his walking. And we were also told to expect that he would be six weeks behind every other baby his age, and in fact not to even count his age from his birthday, but from his gestation.
I know a lot of people think six weeks isn't very much, and its not when kids get older, but at six weeks old babies have their first smiles, we got our first smile from him when he was 3 months old. Sitting up, and crawling were also behind. He didn't follow objects with his eyes or grasp for things when most kids do either. Eventually though, at about a year, Gabe caught up. But for those first few months when you're waiting with baited breath for your child to interact with you it was difficult. And of course there were also those people who would make comments like "Oh, hes not doing that yet?" or "my kid was doing that months ago", etc etc. I know I shouldn't have let it bother me, but it did. I hated people judging him. It wasn't his fault he was a little behind.
For all of our worries over Gabe he has become a very animated, intelligent little boy. He makes me laugh everyday, and I wouldn't change anything about him. To me he's perfection. I love him with every grain of my being.
Lucky for us the only true problem he had was eating and that resolved with soother time, and bottle feeds (they helped to develop the muscles in his cheeks for suckling). He did have three decels within the first two days after his birth (his breathing and heart rate dropped off) but that also resolved in a short period of time. He was the perfect preemie and we were told as long as he continued to gain weight we would be able to bring him home sooner than expected.
Before being released he had to pass a car seat challenge test (a preemie is weaker than the normal infant, and due to the position they are put in while in a car seat, they can stop breathing after a period of time because they can't lift their chin off their chests). He passed the hour long test with flying colors!
Gabe was ready to leave after 13 days in the NICU. As his parents we were given careful instructions on how to keep him safe and healthy. We were told that for the next three months we shouldn't take him out to any public places (like malls, restaurants, etc) because his immune system was still immature and any cold or flu bug could create infection and land him right back in the NICU. We were also told that sterilizing bottles, which we used strictly for vitamin D drops and Iron drops, and sterilizing his soother everyday was a must. The nurses informed us that we would not be able to take him on long road trips without stopping every hour to let him out of his car seat so that his little muscles could take a break. Finally we were given a handful of exercises to do with him in order to build his strength and it was stressed how vitally important tummy time would be for him.
Convinced that we had everything in hand we were given the go ahead to leave. We were taking our baby home and I don't think I've been anymore scared in my entire life.
To say that Scott and I over did it in the first few months would be an understatement. We sterilized everything; his soothers, nipples, bottles, crib, changing pad (to the point that it was falling apart). We washed our hands so many times a day that both of our hands would crack and bleed. The trip we had to make every month for him to see his paediatrician was an hour and a half and we would stop at Vanderhoof every time to let him out of the car seat. I sat in the back seat with him, with a mirror under his nose for the first four months of his life to ensure he was still breathing...needless to say...we were pretty exhausted by the time he was six months old.
We also had appointments with our family doctor every month, nurses who specialized in infant massage, and infant development coming to do home visits to assess him and give us even more exercises to do. We also had appointments with the child development center because he wasn't using the left side of his body and was once again given a multitude of physical therapy exercises for him. Gabe was probably the most well cared for infant in all of Fraser Lake and we were probably the most informed parents in that little town as well.
We were told that certain products on the market we would not be allowed to use as it could stunt his physical development even more than it already was. We weren't allowed to use "Bumbos", as it encourages kids not to develop proper muscles in their backs and tummys for sitting, not to use "exersaucers" or "jolly jumpers" as it encouraged arched backs and pointed toes which would affect his walking. And we were also told to expect that he would be six weeks behind every other baby his age, and in fact not to even count his age from his birthday, but from his gestation.
I know a lot of people think six weeks isn't very much, and its not when kids get older, but at six weeks old babies have their first smiles, we got our first smile from him when he was 3 months old. Sitting up, and crawling were also behind. He didn't follow objects with his eyes or grasp for things when most kids do either. Eventually though, at about a year, Gabe caught up. But for those first few months when you're waiting with baited breath for your child to interact with you it was difficult. And of course there were also those people who would make comments like "Oh, hes not doing that yet?" or "my kid was doing that months ago", etc etc. I know I shouldn't have let it bother me, but it did. I hated people judging him. It wasn't his fault he was a little behind.
For all of our worries over Gabe he has become a very animated, intelligent little boy. He makes me laugh everyday, and I wouldn't change anything about him. To me he's perfection. I love him with every grain of my being.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Just Breathe
Finally on March 13th, two days after being admitted to the hospital for preterm premature rupture of membranes, I received an ultrasound to measure my amniotic fluid levels. They were so low they decided to induce me that night. There was a mad scramble to try and set up an ultrasound for my heart and get a cardiologist to review the film before they set labour into motion.
Later that afternoon the obstetrician came to tell me she didn't think they would have time to do the ECG and they would just have to proceed as though I did have aortic stenosis. She said it would be tricky because they would need to control my pain without giving me drugs that could affect the heart and send me into cardiac arrest, or worse.
I remember feeling very little at that point. Everything had happened so fast. I wasn't registering anything anymore. I was past the point of panic. Two hours later the doctor came back with news that she had finally managed to get me in for an ECG. The test took a little over an hour and in the end they discovered that I did have an aortic, bicuspid, valve defect, but that it wasn't aortic stenosis and it wouldn't affect me during the birth of my child. My relief was short lived. I now had my son to worry about.
At 9 pm that night I was induced, and for anyone who has had an induction you know there is very little transitioning between prelabour to birth. My labour was hard and fast from the beginning and on top of it I was in back labour. I remember thinking that the pain was just too much to bear. I repeatedly asked for an epidural and they repeatedly told me that it was too early for one and that from the look of the contractions (which never got closer than three minutes apart) I wasn't progressing. So instead they gave me a shot of morphine and told me to suck back on the laughing gas. Now the reason they never checked to see how far I was dilated was because the obstetrician forbid it. If labour didn't take and the induction failed then the constant checking of my cervix could cause infection and I would have even more problems to deal with.
I think not knowing how much longer you have to be in excruciating pain for was the worst part of my labour. There was no jumping off point. I couldn't say okay, I've made it to seven centimeters, i can make it the rest of the way. The only way the nurses could tell if I was progressing was by how close my contractions were, and like I said, they were never any closer than 3 minutes apart.
The nurses were so convinced of my lack of progress that after 12 hours they sent my husband to the cafeteria to get something to eat. Ten minutes after he left I began to throw up, and a resident who had been following my case and had come to check on me, decided that she would check me against doctors orders. She soon announced that I was 9 centimeters dilated and the nurses better page the doctor. The doctor wasn't the only one called, Scott was also paged and he later told me how he sprinted up three flights of stairs to get back to my room. He made it before the doctor did, but I also told him that if he left my side again I would murder him. Needless to say with our next child he was not allowed to leave the room, no matter how tired or hungry he became.
After the doctor arrived he told me it was time to start pushing. It took five pushes and 20 minutes to get Gabriel into this world. Meanwhile four NICU nurses and the paediatrician, along with three of his residents waited in the back of the room to receive my son. There were also the two induction nurses, the maternity resident who had been following my case, the nurse who had originally admitted me and her two student nurses, and the delivery doctor all crammed into the induction suite. It was a regular birth party. After Gabriel was born he was rushed to the back so quickly I didn't even get a glimpse of him.
Later that afternoon the obstetrician came to tell me she didn't think they would have time to do the ECG and they would just have to proceed as though I did have aortic stenosis. She said it would be tricky because they would need to control my pain without giving me drugs that could affect the heart and send me into cardiac arrest, or worse.
I remember feeling very little at that point. Everything had happened so fast. I wasn't registering anything anymore. I was past the point of panic. Two hours later the doctor came back with news that she had finally managed to get me in for an ECG. The test took a little over an hour and in the end they discovered that I did have an aortic, bicuspid, valve defect, but that it wasn't aortic stenosis and it wouldn't affect me during the birth of my child. My relief was short lived. I now had my son to worry about.
At 9 pm that night I was induced, and for anyone who has had an induction you know there is very little transitioning between prelabour to birth. My labour was hard and fast from the beginning and on top of it I was in back labour. I remember thinking that the pain was just too much to bear. I repeatedly asked for an epidural and they repeatedly told me that it was too early for one and that from the look of the contractions (which never got closer than three minutes apart) I wasn't progressing. So instead they gave me a shot of morphine and told me to suck back on the laughing gas. Now the reason they never checked to see how far I was dilated was because the obstetrician forbid it. If labour didn't take and the induction failed then the constant checking of my cervix could cause infection and I would have even more problems to deal with.
I think not knowing how much longer you have to be in excruciating pain for was the worst part of my labour. There was no jumping off point. I couldn't say okay, I've made it to seven centimeters, i can make it the rest of the way. The only way the nurses could tell if I was progressing was by how close my contractions were, and like I said, they were never any closer than 3 minutes apart.
The nurses were so convinced of my lack of progress that after 12 hours they sent my husband to the cafeteria to get something to eat. Ten minutes after he left I began to throw up, and a resident who had been following my case and had come to check on me, decided that she would check me against doctors orders. She soon announced that I was 9 centimeters dilated and the nurses better page the doctor. The doctor wasn't the only one called, Scott was also paged and he later told me how he sprinted up three flights of stairs to get back to my room. He made it before the doctor did, but I also told him that if he left my side again I would murder him. Needless to say with our next child he was not allowed to leave the room, no matter how tired or hungry he became.
After the doctor arrived he told me it was time to start pushing. It took five pushes and 20 minutes to get Gabriel into this world. Meanwhile four NICU nurses and the paediatrician, along with three of his residents waited in the back of the room to receive my son. There were also the two induction nurses, the maternity resident who had been following my case, the nurse who had originally admitted me and her two student nurses, and the delivery doctor all crammed into the induction suite. It was a regular birth party. After Gabriel was born he was rushed to the back so quickly I didn't even get a glimpse of him.
Now, I knew that I shouldn't expect him to cry. I was warned multiple times that he may not be able to breathe on his own, but as a mother you don't really have a choice to whether or not you are going to listen for your child's first breath. I remember peering around Dr. Preston as he tried his best to distract me while I was trying my best to ignore him. I knew then that it was taking too long for Gabriel to cry, I began to panic. All I could think was "he can't die". The word "breathe" became a mantra in my head as I prayed to whatever god might be out there. I looked at Scott and could see that he was listening for the cry as well. I never wanted anything so badly in my life but to hear my child scream his little lungs out. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, we heard him. His cry rang throughout the room and I collapsed backwards onto my pillow from exhaustion and relief.
My baby was alive. He was alive.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Bedside Manner
After a full day of wedding planning I was happy to get off my feet and fell unconscious a little after ten. At about six am the next morning I turned over in bed, not an easy feat with 50 extra pounds, and was embarrassed to feel myself pee the bed. Luckily I was wearing a pad and quickly rushed to the bathroom. I emptied my bladder and was about to go back to bed convinced that there shall be no further instances of incontinence, now that my bladder was empty, when I was confused to discover that, after standing, another large gush filled my pad. It was then that I realized that it hadn't been an embarrassing case of incontinence, but something more ominous. Fifty thoughts ran through my mind at once, the first thought being "what does it feel like to have your water break"? the second thought being "its too early". I wandered back to the bedroom where Scott lay asleep, oblivious to the drama that was unfolding around him. I hesitated in waking him because a part of me truly couldn't believe that my water could have broken so early. After a few moments i decided that I couldn't ignore the possibility and prodded Scott awake. "I think my water broke" I remember that he seemed much calmer than I felt was warranted in the situation. "did you have a bloody show"? he asked. I immediately responded "no". He smiled and said "then you're fine, go back to bed". He turned over, convinced that I was overreacting, but I wasn't going to let this go so easily. He wasn't a doctor after all. "I don't think you have to have a bloody show to have your water break...I'm phoning my sister".
I decided I would phone my sister Michelle, she had birthed three babies, and if anyone would know, she would. I got ahold of her on the second ring and immediately knew something was off. Her voice sounded strained, a little off. "were you still sleeping?" I asked. "No, I've been up for hours". I remember thinking that she must have a cold or something because she just didn't' sound right and I even stated as much to her. Her silence was deafening, "you haven't heard, have you?" she asked. Hadn't heard what I wondered. Before I could ask she stated, "Aaron killed himself". Aaron was my sister's brother in law. Her husbands youngest brother. He lived with them in Fort St. John and I had just seen him a few months earlier. My voice stuck in my throat and I suddenly felt like an idiot phoning her for such a stupid reason. After all, the chances of my water breaking so early was slim to none. I expressed my condolences and was about to hang up when sisterly intuition caused Michelle to ask what was wrong. I then explained the situation and she told me to get to the hospital as soon as possible, she told me that they could do a test to check to see if my water had broken. I promised to keep her updated.
I rushed upstairs and told Scott we were heading to the hospital my thoughts racing from my baby back to Aaron. He had driven himself off a cliff. Disbelief ruled all. Shock from all the less than stellar events began to set in. The one stupid thought that kept playing over and over was how when one life ended another would inevitably begin. Even then, a part of me believed my baby was on his way.
After taking the scenic route to the hospital (did i mention Scott was beginning to panic) we finally arrived and I told the maternity nurse what I thought had happened. She looked at me with an accommodating, but doubtful look and said the doctor would see me in the assessment room. After hearing my story the doctor stated that it did sound as though my water had broken and he did a few tests that, of course, came back inconclusive.
Instead of sending us home (since we lived an hour and a half away) he phoned the obstetrician on call and she said to admit me, and it would become known within 24 hours whether or not my water had indeed broken. I was wheeled to maternity and told that if I felt anymore gushes to page the nurse and she would do another swab test to confirm whether or not my membranes had ruptured. Because I hadn't felt any gushes for a while Scott and I began to believe that I had indeed been hysterical to believe that anything was wrong. Assured that everything would be alright he headed off to Walmart to get us some over night clothes for the hospital (we didn't have anything since we hadn't planned to stay in Prince George the night before). While Scott was shopping in Walmart I had another large gush of fluid and it was then confirmed, by three nurses nodding their heads and speaking in unison, that I was indeed ruptured. I love how doctors and nurses speak to one another as if you aren't in the room. "what does that mean" I asked interrupting their less than private meeting. The nurse glanced over and merely stated "your water broke". I was then left alone to try and contemplate what the hell was going to happen now. When I asked her what that meant, I hadn't meant the literal translation; I wasn't a complete idiot! Soon there after Scott arrived back at the hospital and I told him that it was confirmed. My water was broken. Dr. Preston, the one who admitted me, and the one who would later deliver my son, came in and informed us of protocol in this sort of situation.
He told us that in some cases the rupture if small enough could repair itself and I could go on with the rest of my pregnancy, on bed rest, but at least to full term. I would have to stay in the hospital because I would need antibiotics in order to prevent a uterine infection and I would receive steroid shots that would help my babies lungs to develop. If worse came to worse, they would induce me and I would deliver my baby within a few days. My head was reeling from all the information but I was still coherent enough to mention my heart murmur. His look of concern was deja vu and I became an enigma once more. He told me that he would mention it to the on call obstetrician to see what, if anything, should be done.
Later that night the obstetrician came to examine me and to tell me what was going to happen in the next 24 hours. She went over the steroid shot information once more and said I would receive an ultrasound to determine amniotic fluid levels, and if levels were good they would keep me in the hospital for as long as possible. I would have my temperature checked every three hours to ensure I hadn't developed an infection and before they induced me (if they had to induce me) she would very much like to get the ECG done of my heart. To say that this doctors bed side manner was somewhat lacking would be an understatement. She told me the facts in a cold calculated manner explaining everything in under five minutes. In her little speech she told me what to expect from a 34 week old preemie. "At this gestational age its a toss up to whether their lungs will be developed enough to breathe on their own, even after the steroid shots, so don't expect to hear your baby cry, and don't expect to hold him after birth. He may need to be intibated which will be performed by the NICU nurses, he will have to be put on antibiotics right away, and he may need a tube in order to eat. Because he is so gestationally young the chance of infection is high and he could develop one at any time. You should expect that he will remain in hospital up until your original due date. Babies being born at 34 weeks have a 95% chance of survival". I glanced at Scott not fully convinced of what I just heard. Did that mean he had a 5 percent chance of not surviving? Then she rushed on to the explain what could happen if they induced me and I indeed had aortic stenosis. She said the stress on my possibly weakened heart could cause heart attack, stroke, or my lungs to fill with fluid effectively drowning me. "Hopefully", she stated, "we'll have time to get the echo cardiogram done on your heart before your baby is born". I blinked in surprise...hopefully....?
After that jolly woman left I looked at Scott and was again amazed by how calm he looked. "aren't you scared?" I asked. He shook his head and said "i get to meet our son soon, how could i be scared about that?" Little did I know he was freaking out. I suppose being a cop makes it so you can hide your emotions quite effectively. Later he would tell me "how do you think I felt? I was just told in a little under 5 minutes that I could lose my son and the woman I loved". Looking back now i realize, Scott must have been 100 times more terrified than me.
I decided I would phone my sister Michelle, she had birthed three babies, and if anyone would know, she would. I got ahold of her on the second ring and immediately knew something was off. Her voice sounded strained, a little off. "were you still sleeping?" I asked. "No, I've been up for hours". I remember thinking that she must have a cold or something because she just didn't' sound right and I even stated as much to her. Her silence was deafening, "you haven't heard, have you?" she asked. Hadn't heard what I wondered. Before I could ask she stated, "Aaron killed himself". Aaron was my sister's brother in law. Her husbands youngest brother. He lived with them in Fort St. John and I had just seen him a few months earlier. My voice stuck in my throat and I suddenly felt like an idiot phoning her for such a stupid reason. After all, the chances of my water breaking so early was slim to none. I expressed my condolences and was about to hang up when sisterly intuition caused Michelle to ask what was wrong. I then explained the situation and she told me to get to the hospital as soon as possible, she told me that they could do a test to check to see if my water had broken. I promised to keep her updated.
I rushed upstairs and told Scott we were heading to the hospital my thoughts racing from my baby back to Aaron. He had driven himself off a cliff. Disbelief ruled all. Shock from all the less than stellar events began to set in. The one stupid thought that kept playing over and over was how when one life ended another would inevitably begin. Even then, a part of me believed my baby was on his way.
After taking the scenic route to the hospital (did i mention Scott was beginning to panic) we finally arrived and I told the maternity nurse what I thought had happened. She looked at me with an accommodating, but doubtful look and said the doctor would see me in the assessment room. After hearing my story the doctor stated that it did sound as though my water had broken and he did a few tests that, of course, came back inconclusive.
Instead of sending us home (since we lived an hour and a half away) he phoned the obstetrician on call and she said to admit me, and it would become known within 24 hours whether or not my water had indeed broken. I was wheeled to maternity and told that if I felt anymore gushes to page the nurse and she would do another swab test to confirm whether or not my membranes had ruptured. Because I hadn't felt any gushes for a while Scott and I began to believe that I had indeed been hysterical to believe that anything was wrong. Assured that everything would be alright he headed off to Walmart to get us some over night clothes for the hospital (we didn't have anything since we hadn't planned to stay in Prince George the night before). While Scott was shopping in Walmart I had another large gush of fluid and it was then confirmed, by three nurses nodding their heads and speaking in unison, that I was indeed ruptured. I love how doctors and nurses speak to one another as if you aren't in the room. "what does that mean" I asked interrupting their less than private meeting. The nurse glanced over and merely stated "your water broke". I was then left alone to try and contemplate what the hell was going to happen now. When I asked her what that meant, I hadn't meant the literal translation; I wasn't a complete idiot! Soon there after Scott arrived back at the hospital and I told him that it was confirmed. My water was broken. Dr. Preston, the one who admitted me, and the one who would later deliver my son, came in and informed us of protocol in this sort of situation.
He told us that in some cases the rupture if small enough could repair itself and I could go on with the rest of my pregnancy, on bed rest, but at least to full term. I would have to stay in the hospital because I would need antibiotics in order to prevent a uterine infection and I would receive steroid shots that would help my babies lungs to develop. If worse came to worse, they would induce me and I would deliver my baby within a few days. My head was reeling from all the information but I was still coherent enough to mention my heart murmur. His look of concern was deja vu and I became an enigma once more. He told me that he would mention it to the on call obstetrician to see what, if anything, should be done.
Later that night the obstetrician came to examine me and to tell me what was going to happen in the next 24 hours. She went over the steroid shot information once more and said I would receive an ultrasound to determine amniotic fluid levels, and if levels were good they would keep me in the hospital for as long as possible. I would have my temperature checked every three hours to ensure I hadn't developed an infection and before they induced me (if they had to induce me) she would very much like to get the ECG done of my heart. To say that this doctors bed side manner was somewhat lacking would be an understatement. She told me the facts in a cold calculated manner explaining everything in under five minutes. In her little speech she told me what to expect from a 34 week old preemie. "At this gestational age its a toss up to whether their lungs will be developed enough to breathe on their own, even after the steroid shots, so don't expect to hear your baby cry, and don't expect to hold him after birth. He may need to be intibated which will be performed by the NICU nurses, he will have to be put on antibiotics right away, and he may need a tube in order to eat. Because he is so gestationally young the chance of infection is high and he could develop one at any time. You should expect that he will remain in hospital up until your original due date. Babies being born at 34 weeks have a 95% chance of survival". I glanced at Scott not fully convinced of what I just heard. Did that mean he had a 5 percent chance of not surviving? Then she rushed on to the explain what could happen if they induced me and I indeed had aortic stenosis. She said the stress on my possibly weakened heart could cause heart attack, stroke, or my lungs to fill with fluid effectively drowning me. "Hopefully", she stated, "we'll have time to get the echo cardiogram done on your heart before your baby is born". I blinked in surprise...hopefully....?
After that jolly woman left I looked at Scott and was again amazed by how calm he looked. "aren't you scared?" I asked. He shook his head and said "i get to meet our son soon, how could i be scared about that?" Little did I know he was freaking out. I suppose being a cop makes it so you can hide your emotions quite effectively. Later he would tell me "how do you think I felt? I was just told in a little under 5 minutes that I could lose my son and the woman I loved". Looking back now i realize, Scott must have been 100 times more terrified than me.
Where the heart is.
Now to the story of my first pregnancy and all the interesting twists and turns along the way. Scott and I had decided that we would stop using protection and if we got pregnant then it was meant to be. Our attempt at not trying but not preventing pregnancy lasted a few months before I decided to start charting my cycle. Pregnancy tests were just getting to damned expensive and the silent hoping and constant let downs just became to much to bear. I decided to take matters into my own hands and during peek ovulation in the month of July we did it, had sex, took a roll in the hay. Ironically, Scott got cold feet and we both agreed to wait one year before trying again. Turns out once was enough and the pregnancy test I took in the China Cup restaurant (a Chinese buffet of which I lost my appetite for ) quickly revealed a positive pregnancy test result. I came out of the bathroom with what I can only assume was a look of shock on my face and Scott mistakenly assumed I had received another disappointing result. When I sat across from him and blurted "looks like you're going to be a daddy" he thought I was teasing him and insisted on seeing the test before his expression took on a look of numbed shock as well. Within a half an hour we had phoned everyone we knew and told them the good news, never believing for one second anything could ever go wrong. Never believing that this pregnancy would be anything but perfectly routine and normal. Boy were we in for a shock.
My first prenatal exam (at ten weeks) revealed a healthy pregnancy, good hormone levels, a healthy blood pressure, and the most perfect sounding heartbeat I had ever heard. So when it came for the doctor to listen to my own heart her extended silence, the look of worry, and hushed meeting held just outside my room should have forewarned me to the problems to come.
When at last their worried faces reentered the room they informed me that I had a heart murmur and in their opinion it was my aortic valve, and could be a condition called aortic stenosis. Well let me tell you, anytime you hear aorta and problem in the same sentence you freak out a little. Now i wasn't an expert on the heart but isn't the aortic valve the most important?! Looking over at Scott's face confirmed my belief in the necessity of aortic valves and a slow sinking began in the pit of my stomach. "What does that mean", I finally had the courage to ask. They said it could mean nothing, lots of people have heart murmurs, or it could mean that keeping a close on eye on me, especially during the birth of my child, could be more than necessary. I didn't have a clue as to what that meant but it didn't sound good. They refused to elaborate sooner until they had some concrete results. They then informed me that I was in luck because the top cardiologist in BC just happened to be passing through town in a few days and they were going to get him to examine me. Call me a pessimist, but I sure as hell didn't feel lucky.
Now I'm not good at sitting around and twirling my thumbs while waiting for reassurance or information. So I googled aortic stenosis and from what I could gather it was an abnormally narrow valve which affected blood flow in and out of the heart. Well that didn't sound so horrible and in a few days when I got to meet the top cardiologist in BC I was assured that it didn't sound like aortic stenosis after all. Which would have been such a relief if the man hadn't easily been 80 years old and surely didn't have the hearing he once had. He must not have been convinced of the condition of his ears either, as he suggested that to be on the safe side I should receive an echo cardiogram. An ECG, he explained, was basically an ultrasound of the heart. So the oldest, cardiologist alive in BC set up an appointment for me, which thanks to the slow health care system was set for my 35th week of pregnancy, 25 weeks away.
To say my heart murmur played on my mind was an understatement and it was difficult to ignore since every time i went for a prenatal exam different doctors, nurses, and residents were called into listen to my heart. I was something of a case study. On the bright side, my pregnancy was chugging along beautifully. I hadn't had morning sickness, I wasn't overly moody, and I glowed just as people say happens when you become pregnant. I gained entirely too much weight, but I was enjoying all the little things along the way so much, that the 50 plus lbs I had packed on just didn't matter.
Around week 30 of my pregnancy Scott's mother convinced us to get married before the baby was born. We were already engaged, so why not? I feverishly began to plan our wedding, and I was finally able to push the possible, faulty, aortic valve out of my mind. We had the venue arranged, I had my dress, and we had hired a commissioner we both liked. The last few things I needed to wrap up (the cake and flowers) could be done in a day. We travelled to Prince George in my 33rd week of pregnancy to put the final touches on our wedding and spent all day cementing the plans on the upcoming nuptials. That night we decided to stay at my mothers house (she was in Mexico) before travelling back to Fraser Lake (our home, an hour and a half away). I collapsed into bed that night elated. The plans were done, we were going to be married in less than a month and soon enough I would have my little baby in my arms. Little did I know how true this statement would become.
My first prenatal exam (at ten weeks) revealed a healthy pregnancy, good hormone levels, a healthy blood pressure, and the most perfect sounding heartbeat I had ever heard. So when it came for the doctor to listen to my own heart her extended silence, the look of worry, and hushed meeting held just outside my room should have forewarned me to the problems to come.
When at last their worried faces reentered the room they informed me that I had a heart murmur and in their opinion it was my aortic valve, and could be a condition called aortic stenosis. Well let me tell you, anytime you hear aorta and problem in the same sentence you freak out a little. Now i wasn't an expert on the heart but isn't the aortic valve the most important?! Looking over at Scott's face confirmed my belief in the necessity of aortic valves and a slow sinking began in the pit of my stomach. "What does that mean", I finally had the courage to ask. They said it could mean nothing, lots of people have heart murmurs, or it could mean that keeping a close on eye on me, especially during the birth of my child, could be more than necessary. I didn't have a clue as to what that meant but it didn't sound good. They refused to elaborate sooner until they had some concrete results. They then informed me that I was in luck because the top cardiologist in BC just happened to be passing through town in a few days and they were going to get him to examine me. Call me a pessimist, but I sure as hell didn't feel lucky.
Now I'm not good at sitting around and twirling my thumbs while waiting for reassurance or information. So I googled aortic stenosis and from what I could gather it was an abnormally narrow valve which affected blood flow in and out of the heart. Well that didn't sound so horrible and in a few days when I got to meet the top cardiologist in BC I was assured that it didn't sound like aortic stenosis after all. Which would have been such a relief if the man hadn't easily been 80 years old and surely didn't have the hearing he once had. He must not have been convinced of the condition of his ears either, as he suggested that to be on the safe side I should receive an echo cardiogram. An ECG, he explained, was basically an ultrasound of the heart. So the oldest, cardiologist alive in BC set up an appointment for me, which thanks to the slow health care system was set for my 35th week of pregnancy, 25 weeks away.
To say my heart murmur played on my mind was an understatement and it was difficult to ignore since every time i went for a prenatal exam different doctors, nurses, and residents were called into listen to my heart. I was something of a case study. On the bright side, my pregnancy was chugging along beautifully. I hadn't had morning sickness, I wasn't overly moody, and I glowed just as people say happens when you become pregnant. I gained entirely too much weight, but I was enjoying all the little things along the way so much, that the 50 plus lbs I had packed on just didn't matter.
Around week 30 of my pregnancy Scott's mother convinced us to get married before the baby was born. We were already engaged, so why not? I feverishly began to plan our wedding, and I was finally able to push the possible, faulty, aortic valve out of my mind. We had the venue arranged, I had my dress, and we had hired a commissioner we both liked. The last few things I needed to wrap up (the cake and flowers) could be done in a day. We travelled to Prince George in my 33rd week of pregnancy to put the final touches on our wedding and spent all day cementing the plans on the upcoming nuptials. That night we decided to stay at my mothers house (she was in Mexico) before travelling back to Fraser Lake (our home, an hour and a half away). I collapsed into bed that night elated. The plans were done, we were going to be married in less than a month and soon enough I would have my little baby in my arms. Little did I know how true this statement would become.
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