Let me tell you a little story about the last couple weeks.
There has been a great many stories we have added to our lives over the years. I have some pretty unique ones. When I start telling my life story as if it’s any other, the person listening usually ends with a wide open jaw. I guess I just consider life – life. Crappy things are going to happen but its how we handle them that makes us better people, stronger people.
Our marriage started out with being separated in two countries, 3 days after our wedding. I was then banned for 4 months from entering the states from attempting to marry for citizenship. {Ps he’s dual, so I was marrying a fellow Canadian that grew up in the same city as me, and 5 years after getting here, I still have not gone after citizenship, and probably never will.} But here we are almost celebrating a 6 year anniversary, and this seem’s like only a distant memory.
My first pregnancy I was deemed high risk even though I was healthy and only 24. I had a condition called polyhydramnios. In short, I carried an excess amount of amniotic fluid, to the point of them debating whether it was worth the risk to remove some. I was measuring over 40 weeks pregnant while I was only 35. I had an ultrasound done every 2 days for the last 2 months to monitor it. I was hooked up to machines to watch the contractions it had begun to develop because of the rate of fluid. I was having full blown labor contractions and I wasn’t even feeling them because of the cushion the fluid provided. I was put on a bunch of medication to stop the contractions and hopefully slow the fluid. But we made it to 39 weeks. And a healthy little boy was born.
The healthy little boy turned out to have yet another condition. This one not so rare. Its actually unbelievably common. 1 in 2000 children are born with Craniosynostosis. Mine was that one. It was a word that sounded like gibberish that first time a doctor uttered it. Now I could tell you every little detail. And it is an honor to help other cranio families through that journey. He was born without a soft spot. His head began to grow only length wise and could have caused mass amount of pressure on his brain and development, had we not had the surgery. My tiny baby had surgery at 8 months old. It should have been the worst day of my life, it was the most humbling moment to see how horrible the surgery and recovery was, and know he was still the healthiest child in that PICU unit.
The second baby was stubborn. I wanted children close together. My sister and I were 18 months apart. I wanted that desperately. It wasn’t in the cards. That’s the thing, you imagine your life, plan it out perfectly and you never stop to think about what will go wrong in between. It was easy as pie to conceive the first child. Why would it be any different with the second. Silly naive thoughts. It took over a year to get pregnant with the second. Each month that ticked by felt like a year. I never understood the agony of not getting pregnant. It seem’s like such an easy task. For me it was the hardest months I’ve faced. Constant fb announcements, babies everywhere. I wanted to shut the world out. But you cannot stop the world from turning. And it turned and turned and turned and finally those lines showed up. But I have a new respect for those women who are going through, or have gone through those months that slowly turn into years. And that silently tell themselves it’s not their fault, when it feels like the biggest personal let down in your life. And a new heart break for the ones that never get those lines and relief.
Now we were finally on our way again! Having lived so many stories. Having learned to love the roller coasters ups & downs. As you cannot see how beautiful life is, without living some dark days.
And then we hit a dark day. I was back in my childhood home and country, visiting family for a funeral. It was a very last minute trip. I was only 3 hours away from returning home again after being away from my husband for 12 days. Since I’m pregnant I opted for the last minute bathroom trip before the drive to the airport. Instead we drove to the hospital.
At 21 weeks I began to bleed. Heavily. You read about women losing babies this far, and further into pregnancy, but you never imagine yourself in the situation. I can honestly say I think my mind went into shock for the first 5 minutes. I just stared at this bright red color and couldn’t think past the idea of how bright it was, and how wrong I knew it was. Then from somewhere beyond me I heard my own voice screaming for my mom. Because in the end we will always be the child, and our mothers will always be the hero to save us.
It was a 15 minute drive to the hospital, it felt more like 60. For me, leaving Sawyer behind as he sobbed because his mommy was crying, was almost as hard as dealing with the present situation. It broke my heart into a million pieces to see my sister holding him back as I ran out the door to the car. I called my husband and couldn’t get any words beyond the broken gasps of air, dry heaving, sobbing, trying to explain an impossible situation. I was beyond shock, I knew exactly what this could mean. You never understand distance until you are in a hospital, in another country from someone you need.
I was immediately checked in, and hooked up, and blood taken. Since there was no record of my pregnancy at all in Canada, they had to start from scratch. But they found a heartbeat and it was the most amazing thing I’ve ever heard. It had to mean we were all ok. It didn’t. They moved me to the maternity wing for better care. You don’t know how awful it is to have every nurse and doctor look at you with pity when they start talking. The optimistic OBGYN began with “maybe the blood is not even coming from your cervix.” Seconds into a physical exam she stopped and said they needed to do an ultrasound immediately, as it was definitely coming from the pregnancy. Then the optimistic view left her voice. She sat on the edge of the bed and looked at me deeply and stated, “I’m sorry, if this continues, you are just not far enough along.” It took a moment to settle over me, what that meant. I was 21 weeks, I was out of the dangerous first trimester. I knew the sex, I knew his name, I was attached to this little baby, of course in my mind I was far enough along. But I was not. I went into that first night wondering if I was going to fly home with a baby or not.
First it was a Placenta Previa. But then they noticed a tear. They told me they were going to hold me overnight to monitor the bleeding. {Here is where I was so touched by everyone who came rushing to the hospital to help in any way. Thank you from the bottom of my heart to those special people who saw me at my absolute worst that day, and loved me even more because of it}. In the morning I was sent for the most in depth ultrasound I’ve ever had. They spent 2 hours combing over this little man inside of me, making sure every little detail was perfect and healthy. Hearing that he was doing fantastic was the biggest, best news ever. And as if he knew, he began to kick that day like a zumba instructor. He kicks me constantly, which keeps me awake all night. But I will take his constant reminders that he is a fighter over sleep any night.
During the ultrasound they tossed aside the previa diagnoses, instead they saw the tear again. Yet another doctor came to tell me all about placenta abruption. Don’t google it. I should have listened to him. He said it was small, but it would never repair itself. My placenta had ripped away from the wall and that was what caused the bleeding. He said there was nothing that caused it and nothing that will trigger it again. At this point myself and baby were healthy, and he would discharge me with some restrictions. I was not allowed to fly for 72 hours. He didn’t even want to let me fly, but what can you do when you live in another country? I am no longer allowed to lift sawyer or anything over 10 pounds. {Who remember’s we are moving this summer, twice. Let the good times roll!} And I was advised to stop photography altogether. But it wasn’t bedrest so I will take whatever I can get.
It has been slightly frustrating since returning home. I bled for 5 days straight but then it stopped. The greatest thing ever. Except, once it stops they can no longer see the tear or where the blood began. So since my records are in Canada and I cannot have full access to them, the doctors here have little to go on. Without my full ultrasound scans they cannot see the tear so they have now diagnosed that it was simply an early contraction. Frustrating, since in Canada they pointed out multiple times to me where the tear was and I have seen it with my own eyes. But, it hasn’t happened again so I am just trying to stay positive that it was a one time thing. One more story to add to the list of downs, and one happy ending to add to the list of ups.
This week marks the beginning of my third trimester. Officially I am far enough along. The survival rate of saving a premature baby jumps to 90% I have waited patiently the last few weeks to get to this point before telling this story. But like all the other stories in my life, I believe there is always someone out there that needs to read a happy ending to a dark day. We are not at the end yet but with each kick, and each week we get a little closer to a healthy newborn, and a little further away from May 19 and some awful memories.
“We’re all stories in the end, just make it a good one.” A favorite quote, from a favorite person. {And if you know the reference, you’re awesome.} I believe we benefit the most from the dark stories. I have a whole new value to the uncomfortable parts of pregnancy. The kicks, the sleepless nights, the everlasting heartburn, even the possibility that I will have the same high risk fluid issue this trimester. Because all those annoying things mean I still have a baby growing inside this bump. Sometimes it just takes a little perspective to see the silver lining of the annoying every day issues we like to complain about.
So that’s the newest story in the lissables life. Why I haven’t been talking pregnancy news lately. Why we are taking over 2 weeks to move when most people do it in one day. Why I have slowed down drastically on photography, and bookings this summer. And most importantly why I am not going home this summer like I have for the past 5 years. I am used to staying for the entire month of August, beating the heat of Vegas. Especially on a year where I am pregnant and am already dying from the summer heat in June. It’s the first time ever I have not gone home for the summer. It’s a little disappointing, but we’ll manage. We get to move into the new house this August, so there is always something to look forward to. And in September we will finally welcome this little fighter. Both my boys have shown such endurance through medical setbacks in their first years. And both have proved to be little warriors who can handle the worst. I can’t wait to meet this next little hero of mine.
As always this was a very personal post. If you made it this far, congrats on reading my novel of a virtual diary. I like to share my experiences, good and bad. It makes me who I am and I wouldn’t change it. If you wish to talk more about this topic, you can reach me at lissables@gmail.com Thank you everyone for your amazing and continuing love and support through the years.
